#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

as I approach. “All

give her shoulder a squeeze. “Little

pick up the slack in the dining area to relieve some of the

the front door swings open,

need to

them, and my heart

this establishment?” the woman asks, her

I’m worthy of her

am,” I reply, bracing myself for

here, washing dishes? Something about

his arms

the lump in my throat. “They tripped one of my

and there was damage to our

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

a tired look with her

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

but teenagers

chimes in.

a joke.

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

lifting off my shoulders.

one of my… cooks, thought it would be a fitting punishment for them to help clean up,”

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

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

fit should drive

sure?” I ask, stunned.

assures me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson. You can’t

causing trouble and not expect to deal with the

then, Karl emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes

I nod subtly, a

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

an

hand to each parent. “I appreciate your understanding. Trust

a kitchen. I would know.” He glances at

gaze to my

settled,” the man says, shaking

the kitchen, presumably to have a serious

against the bar, suddenly

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

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

chock full of surprises.”

his eyes warm and comforting.

truth in his words. Maybe it’s the

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