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 I approach. “All that

fault.” I give her

the slack in the dining area to relieve some of the anxiety from

not long before the front door swings open, and a

that I need to

them, and my heart sinks.

asks, her eyes scanning me up and down as

whether I’m worthy of

I am,” I reply, bracing myself for

they’re here, washing dishes? Something

arms

in my

and there was damage

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

a tired look

have to deal with this,” she says, shaking her head. “We’ve been

of responsibility in them, but teenagers will be

that doesn’t excuse mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes in. “They told us it was

goes beyond a joke. Someone

absorbing their words. This is not the reaction I was expecting, but it’s a relief, like

lifting off my shoulders.

be a fitting punishment for them to help clean up,”

cautiously, gauging their response.

indeed.” The man nods, looking toward the kitchen.

if you’d be willing. A week of scrubbing

should drive the message

I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t

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

and not expect to deal with

his hands on a towel. His eyes

nod subtly, a smile breaking

these are the parents,” I explain. “They agree

for an entire

a hand to each parent. “I appreciate

would know.” He glances at me, winking subtly. My

gaze to my

the man says, shaking Karl’s hand

to have a

against the bar,

his shoulder barely touching mine. “Not what

slight laugh escaping my lips. “But these past couple of days

chock full of surprises.”

eyes warm and comforting.

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