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

Abby,” she says as I approach. “All that

fault.” I give her shoulder a squeeze.

the slack in the dining area to relieve some of the anxiety

the front door

me all that I need to know: they

air about them, and my heart sinks. They must be

owner of this establishment?” the woman asks, her eyes scanning

whether I’m worthy of her

myself for a

children informed us they’re here, washing dishes? Something

arms

swallowing the lump in my

and there was damage

even threats of a lawsuit. But instead,

exchanging a tired look with her

she says, shaking her head.

responsibility in them, but teenagers will

excuse mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes in. “They told us it was a joke,

beyond a joke. Someone got

reaction I was expecting, but it’s a relief, like

lifting off my shoulders.

thought it would be a fitting punishment for them to help clean up,” I

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

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

fit should drive the

ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want to

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

not expect to deal with

the kitchen, wiping his hands

subtly, a smile breaking through my

are the parents,” I explain. “They agree

an entire

each parent. “I appreciate your

glances

my gaze

the man says, shaking Karl’s hand

toward the kitchen, presumably to have

lean against the bar, suddenly drained but

barely touching mine. “Not what you

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

chock full of surprises.”

warm and comforting. “Some surprises are good, don’t

I murmur, realizing the truth in his words. Maybe