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

fault.” I give her shoulder a squeeze. “Little

pick up the slack in the dining area to relieve some

it’s not long before the front door swings open, and a

me all that I need to know: they have that

air about them, and my heart

woman asks,

I’m worthy of

I am,” I reply, bracing myself for a potential scolding—or worse, pressing

they’re here, washing dishes? Something about a

his arms over his

my throat. “They tripped one of

was

even threats of a

tired look with

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

responsibility in them, but

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

beyond a joke.

the reaction I was expecting,

lifting off my shoulders.

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

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

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

drive

stunned. “I

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

not expect to deal with

wiping his hands on a towel. His

subtly, a smile breaking

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

an entire

each parent. “I appreciate your understanding. Trust me, there’s

I would know.” He glances at

gaze

the man says, shaking

the kitchen, presumably to have a

lean against the bar, suddenly drained but

shoulder barely touching mine. “Not

laugh escaping my lips. “But these past couple of days have

chock full of surprises.”

glances at me, his eyes warm and comforting. “Some

in his words. Maybe it’s the parents owning up to their