Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 79: Mean Spirited
Abby

The lunchtime rush is finally easing up. Much unlike yesterday, it’s been a smooth day so far, and I feel

relieved; but that’s exactly when it happens.

I’m scanning the restaurant floor, making sure everything is running smoothly, when I hear the crash.

It’s a shocking mix of the sound of ceramic shattering, gasps, and the thud of a body hitting the floor,

followed by a loud “Ow!”

My heart lurches into my throat as I rush over to see one of my waitresses, Sarah, sprawled on the

ground amid a mess of broken dishes and spilled food.

“What happened?” I ask, my eyes darting around the room, locking onto a group of snickering

teenagers at a nearby table.

“I saw it,” Karl says, striding past me. “Those little s hits tripped her. Deliberately.”

In seconds, he’s at their table, his face dark with anger. “You think that was funny? Get up.”

“It was an accident!” one of the kids says, feigning innocence. But it’s clear that he’s full of sh it. They all

are.

I kneel beside Sarah, who’s clutching her wrist, her face pale. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“I think so,” she mumbles, grimacing as she attempts to move. I call over two other employees to clean

the mess and guide Sarah to a chair.

Karl reappears, dragging the shame-faced teenagers behind him. “Apologize,” he commands, his voice

icy. They mumble sca ttered apologies, looking anywhere but at Sarah or me.

“Sorry isn’t enough,” Karl continues. “You’re washing dishes for the rest of the night. And if I see any of

you around here again causing trouble, you’re going to wish you never set foot in this place.”

“Karl, you can’t—” I begin, but my voice trails off with a look from Karl. A look I know all too well, one

that embodies his spirit of an Alpha.

I watch the teenagers slink off to the kitchen, led by Karl. The room is quiet now; even the low hum of

conversations has died down. But my focus is on Sarah, who is sitting by the bar and wiping tears from

eyes, her

sorry, Abby,” she says as

fault.” I give her shoulder a squeeze. “Little

while, I help pick up the slack in the dining area to relieve some of the

before the front door swings open, and

I need to know: they have that

them, and my heart sinks. They must

asks, her eyes

whether I’m worthy of her

I reply, bracing myself for

here, washing dishes? Something about a

his arms

lump in my throat. “They tripped one

and there was damage to

the accusations, perhaps even threats of a lawsuit. But instead, the

tired

says, shaking her

in them, but teenagers will be teenagers,

man chimes in. “They told us

goes beyond a

words. This is not the reaction

lifting off my shoulders.

cooks, thought it would be a fitting punishment for them to help

cautiously, gauging their response.

indeed.” The man nods, looking toward the

week of scrubbing your kitchen and doing whatever

fit should drive the message

stunned.

assures me. “It’s about time they learn

not expect to deal with

the kitchen, wiping his hands

nod subtly, a smile breaking through

I explain. “They agree with your punishment.

an

“I appreciate your understanding. Trust me,

He glances at me, winking subtly. My face flushes

gaze

it’s settled,” the man says, shaking

parents walk toward the kitchen, presumably to have a serious chat with their d

lean against the bar, suddenly drained but

his shoulder barely touching mine.

say softly, a slight laugh escaping my lips. “But these past

chock full of surprises.”

eyes warm and

in his words. Maybe it’s the parents owning