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

she says as I approach. “All

I give her shoulder a squeeze. “Little

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

the front door swings open, and a couple

them tells me all that I need to know: they

and my heart

the woman asks,

worthy of her

am,” I reply, bracing myself for a potential

here, washing dishes? Something about a prank?” the man

arms over

in my throat. “They tripped one of

was damage to

perhaps even

a tired look with her

have to deal with this,” she says, shaking her

but teenagers

man chimes in. “They told us

a joke. Someone got

This is not the reaction

lifting off my shoulders.

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

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

you’d be willing. A week of scrubbing your kitchen and

fit should drive the

I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want to

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

and not expect to deal with the

emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

a smile breaking through

parents,” I explain. “They agree with your punishment. Actually, they want

an

each parent. “I appreciate your understanding. Trust me,

I would know.” He glances

gaze to

the man says,

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

the bar, suddenly

his shoulder barely touching mine.

all,” I say softly, a slight laugh escaping my lips. “But these past couple of days have

chock full of surprises.”

his eyes warm and comforting. “Some surprises are good,

words. Maybe it’s the parents owning