Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Chapter 102

“What happened?” I rush over, my eyes narrowing with concern.

“I, erm… I rolled my ankle while serving table nine. Just give me five minutes and I’ll get back out

there,” she says, grimacing with each word.

I take one look at her flushed face, her ankle swelling before my eyes, and shake my head. “No, you’re

going home. Put that leg up. I’ll take over your tables tonight.”

Daisy starts to protest, her eyes filled with worry. “But the tips—”

“Don’t worry about that. Whatever tips you miss out on tonight, I’ll cover. Just go home and take care of

yourself.”

She hesitates for a moment before finally nodding, gratitude flooding her features. “Thank you, Abby.”

“Get better, okay?” I say as she limps out of the restaurant, supported by Ethan.

I tie on an apron and grab a notepad, turning my attention to Daisy’s tables. And then I see her—Emily,

the Luna who used to be an acquaintance of mine, sitting there with her friends, smirking as if she

owns the place.

Here we go.

“Nice to see you all again,” I greet, forcing a smile as I approach the table.

“Well, well! If it isn’t Abby,” Emily says, a stiff smile taking over her features. “We were just talking about

you.”

“Were you?” I manage an equally stiff smile and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Hopefully only

good things.”

Emily and her friends exchange glances, their eyes twinkling with a fakeness that makes my skin crawl.

“Of course,” Emily says.

“Can I get you started with some drinks?”

“Two red wines, a cosmopolitan, and a gin and tonic,” Emily says, her tone dripping with fake

sweetness.

“Coming right up,” I reply, making a note on my pad.

As I move away, my ears catch snippets of their conversation, laced with contempt. “Wow. Last time I

figured it was just a fluke, but she’s waiting tables again?”

“To think an ex-Luna doesn’t even get to run her own restaurant, but has to wait tables instead…”

There’s a giggle. “Maybe she can’t handle running the place. Probably gave it over to one of the men.

She was always like that, you know. Letting Alpha Karl run everything, always giving him goo-goo

eyes.”

As I listen to their words, my hands start to tremble. I head into the back room to catch my breath, my

eyes stinging, the weight of their comments crashing down on me. Who do they think they are, coming

into my restaurant and speaking about me like that?

“Abby, you alright?”

I look up to see Karl standing there, his expression etched with concern.

“I’m fine,” I lie, unable to hide the shake in my voice. Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

“You don’t look fine. What happened?”

Against my better judgment, I find myself spilling the story about Emily and her friends. His face

tightens with each word, his eyes darkening like a stormcloud.

“I’ll handle this,” he says, setting his jaw.

“No, Karl, don’t make a scene,” I protest, but he’s already pushing through the swing door, his resolve

unbreakable.

I follow him out, my heart pounding as he approaches Emily’s table and pulls up a chair.

“Evening, Ladies.”

Emily and her friends perk up, their eyes widening.

“Alpha… Alpha Karl?” Emily exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

Karl smirks. “I work here. As a dishwasher-slash-line cook,” he says, locking eyes with Emily.

She looks up, surprise flickering across her face. “You’re… working here? Why?”

“Why not?” Karl asks. “Got a problem with it?”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment of surprise before Emily collects herself and shoots him a smirk.

“No problems. None at all. For an Omega or a Beta, at least. But an Alpha such as yourself…”

“And what of it?” Karl says, standing to his full height. His shadow casts across the table, making Emily

and her friends appear small. “Think that service jobs aren’t fit for Alphas?”

Emily swallows. “Well—”

“Don’t worry,” Karl assures her. “No offense taken. In fact, since I’m working on the line, I’ll make sure

your food tonight is cooked real well.”

“Really?” Emily says, taking the bait. “You’ll take care of that?”

Karl grins. “Yup. To a crisp, in fact.”

Emily scoffs. Without another word, she gathers her purse, her friends following suit, and they march

out of the restaurant.

Karl watches them go, then turns back to me. “You think that will ruin my reputation?”

“Do you care?” I ask, my voice softer now.

He shakes his head. “Not anymore. I’ve learned something valuable working here, something I

should’ve known all along.”

“And what is that?” I ask.

Karl smiles. It’s a genuine, warm smile, one that makes my heart flutter. “Service jobs are hard, honest

work,” he says gently. “And I’ve realized that now. All thanks to you.”