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

her hands

sorry, Abby,” she says as I approach.

give her

in the dining area to relieve some of

not long before the front door swings

at them tells me all that I need to know: they have that

air about them, and my heart sinks. They must be the

this establishment?” the woman asks,

I’m worthy of

reply, bracing myself for a

washing dishes? Something

his arms over

in my throat. “They tripped one of my waitresses. She’s

there was damage to

wait for the outburst, the accusations, perhaps even

a tired

this,” she says, shaking

them, but teenagers will be

the man chimes in. “They told us

beyond a joke.

This is not the reaction I was expecting, but it’s

lifting off my shoulders.

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

cautiously, gauging their response.

man nods, looking toward the kitchen.

willing. A week of scrubbing

fit should drive

sure?” I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t

an imposition,” the woman assures me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson.

and not expect to

emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands

I nod subtly, a smile

“They agree with your

an entire

“I appreciate your understanding. Trust

know.” He glances at me, winking subtly. My face flushes red,

gaze to

it’s settled,” the man

kitchen, presumably to have a serious

I lean against the bar,

his shoulder barely touching mine. “Not what

say softly, a slight laugh escaping

chock full of surprises.”

me, his eyes warm and comforting. “Some

murmur, realizing the truth in his words. Maybe it’s the