Page 161 of I’m The Worst

Grabbing Graves by the back of his shirt, I yank him backward. He laughs like a fucking lunatic, wiping blood across his swollen knuckles while Harlan stumbles upright, blood pouring from his nose onto his suit.

Graves rolls his shoulders. “That’s two fucking bones. Want me to make it three?”

Harlan lunges forward⁠—

The conference room doors slam open.

“Gentlemen,” Commander Weston says as he steps into the room beside Commander Harrington, “kill each other on your own fucking time. Not mine. I’ve already got enough paperwork drowning my desk.”

The entire room stills.

Graves drops back into his chair beside me, muttering under his breath, “After this bullshit meeting, I’m gonna peel that prick’s face off and fuck the hole where his skull used to be.”

The doors open again behind the Commanders as catering staff wheel in carts loaded with food and bottles of whiskey. The smell hits the room instantly—steak, roasted vegetables, fresh bread.

Then another man steps inside behind them.

Commander David Holmes.

Tall. Dark-haired. Expensive suit tailored to his broad frame. The kind of man raised for rooms like this. Exactly the kind of man Sovereign Commander daughters are supposed to marry.

Something ugly twists low in my stomach.

Weston gestures toward him.

“As of today, Commander Holmes will be overseeing General operations within the North Section.”

Weston leaves the room again with Harrington following close behind, discussing something low under their breath. I tune out the rest of David’s polished bullshit introduction while pouring myself whiskey. The burn down my throat does absolutely nothing to dull the tormenting ache in my chest.

My attention drifts toward the conference room doors after Weston disappears through them. The same fucking thought I haven’t been able to let go of flashes to the forefront of my mind.

Why was AJ targeted?

The more I searched overseas, the less sense the story made. Akim doesn’t run sloppy operations. He doesn’t spend that kind of money and manpower grabbing random rich girls out of clubs for fun.

AJ was specifically chosen.

Why?

Every lead I followed turned into another dead end. Missing files. Bribed informants disappearing before I could question them. Security footage wiped clean. Financial records scrubbed. Even the fucking shipping manifests vanished the second I started pulling names.

Like somebody knew exactly where I was looking before I got there.

Weston knows something.

I’m fucking certain he did some dirty deal with Akim. Something went bad. And AJ got caught in the middle of it somehow.

He fucked up somewhere.

Everybody does eventually.

And when I find it—I’ll finally understand why AJ was dragged into that nightmare in the first place.

David clears his throat and loosens his cuffs before glancing toward the food.

“Lunch is on me today,” he says casually. “Figured somebody should enjoy all the catering after my fiancée decided menu tasting was optional.”

A few of the older Generals laugh quietly.