Page 168 of I’m The Worst

It hammers behind my eyes, under my skin, through my fucking teeth. The same relentless static that’s been getting louder every single day. I shove off the body and pace, lighting a cigarette with blood-slicked fingers. The first drag burns all the way down, but it does nothing to quiet the noise in my head.

Cold air hits me as I step outside, rain clouds hanging low over the city. I pull my phone from my pocket. I shouldn’t, and I know I fucking shouldn’t. But my thumb is already moving before I can stop it.

AJ’s message thread opens.

Again.

The photo of her smiling with the dog fills the screen. Not the fake smile she wears at Sovereign events or the reckless one she throws around when she’s drunk and trying to convince herself she’s having fun.

A real one.

The closest she’s looked to the girl from before Russia. Before me. The realization makes my chest clench. I delete the thread and block her number.

Again.

Fourth time this month.

Maybe fifth.

I’ve lost count.

I toss the phone into the passenger seat and climb into the truck. I need a drink. Or six. Something strong enough to shut my brain the fuck up for a few hours. The drive back to Chicago is longer than necessary. By the time I walk into the Citadel, my irritation is edging on homicidal.

I need a mission as far away as fucking possible from Chicago.

“Jesus Christ. Do you ever answer your goddamn phone?” Graves’s loud voice cuts through the concrete hallway before I even make it to the elevators.

“I blocked your number.”

“Cute.”

I glance over, noting his dark hair is damp from the showers, but that’s about the only clean thing on him. A black sweatshirt stretches across his massive frame, one sleeve streaked with dried blood that’s probably not his. A fresh bandage sits crooked across the bridge of his nose, bruising already blooming beneath both eyes.

“What the hell do you want, Graves?”

“Get your suit dry-cleaned. There’s an event tonight at Commander Holmes’s estate.”

The mention of David’s name immediately puts me in a worse mood. Which shouldn’t be possible.

“I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. And I got you some pussy to take your mind off⁠—”

The punch happens before I consciously decide to throw it. My fist connects with his jaw hard enough to snap his head sideways. He stumbles a step and starts laughing, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“That’s my girl, K9. You know how to make a man feel special.” He straightens up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still grinning. “Get your suit cleaned.”

“No.”

“Shower.”

“No.”

“Comb your hair.”

“I’m going to gut you.” I step into the elevator.

“Now you’re talking dirty to me.” The doors start closing. “Seriously, K9. That’s the most physical affection you’ve shown anyone all month.” His psychotic laugh follows me as the doors close.