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

she says as I approach.

I give her shoulder

in the dining

it’s not long before the front door swings

tells me all that I need to know: they have that classic “I’d like

and my heart sinks. They

the woman asks,

worthy of her

bracing myself

washing dishes? Something about a prank?” the

his arms over his

Yes,” I say, swallowing the lump in my

and there was damage to our

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

tired look with her

sorry you have to deal with this,” she says, shaking

them, but teenagers will be teenagers,

that doesn’t excuse mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes

a joke. Someone got

their words. This is not the reaction I was expecting, but

lifting off my shoulders.

be a fitting punishment for them to help

cautiously, gauging their response.

indeed.” The man nods, looking toward the kitchen. “In fact, we’d like

A week of scrubbing your kitchen and doing

should drive

ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want

me. “It’s about time

not expect to deal with

the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. His

subtly, a smile breaking through my

agree with your punishment. Actually,

an

extending a hand to each parent. “I appreciate

He glances at me, winking subtly.

my gaze to my

the man says,

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

the bar,

leans next to me, his shoulder barely touching mine. “Not what you

softly, a slight laugh escaping

chock full of surprises.”

and comforting. “Some

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