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

fault.” I give her shoulder

I help pick up the slack in the dining area

front door swings

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

my heart sinks. They

establishment?” the woman asks, her eyes scanning me

worthy of

I reply, bracing myself for

here, washing dishes? Something about

arms over

lump in my throat. “They tripped one of my waitresses. She’s

was damage

the outburst, the accusations, perhaps even threats

exchanging a tired look with

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

of responsibility in them, but

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

goes beyond a

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

lifting off my shoulders.

cooks, thought it would be a fitting punishment for them

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

be willing. A week of scrubbing

should drive the

ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t

me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson. You

not expect

from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a

nod subtly, a smile

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

for an

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

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

my gaze to my

the man

presumably to have

lean against the bar, suddenly drained

shoulder barely touching mine. “Not what you expected,

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

chock full of surprises.”

eyes warm and comforting. “Some surprises

words. Maybe it’s