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

says as

your fault.” I give

in the dining

long before the front door

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

them, and my heart sinks.

the owner of this establishment?” the woman asks, her eyes

worthy of her

reply, bracing myself for a potential scolding—or worse,

informed us they’re here, washing dishes? Something about a

his arms over

Yes,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “They tripped

there was damage to

accusations, perhaps even threats of a lawsuit.

a tired

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

but teenagers will be teenagers,

mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes in. “They told

beyond a joke. Someone got

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

lifting off my shoulders.

would be a fitting punishment for

cautiously, gauging their response.

fitting punishment indeed.” The man nods, looking toward the kitchen. “In

if you’d be willing. A week of scrubbing

should drive the message

I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want to

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

and not expect

Karl emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands

I nod subtly, a smile breaking

agree with your punishment. Actually,

for an entire

“I appreciate your understanding.

a kitchen. I would know.” He glances at me, winking

my gaze to my

settled,” the man says, shaking

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

I lean against the bar, suddenly drained but also

me, his shoulder barely

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

chock full of surprises.”

warm and comforting. “Some

I murmur, realizing the truth in his words. Maybe it’s the parents owning up to