Page 203 of I’m The Worst

I take a step after her, but David moves in front of me.

“Maddox. I’d strongly advise against taking another step.”

“What the fuck did you do to her?” I snarl. Because that isn’t AJ.

“Me?” A faint smile pulls at his mouth. “I didn’t do anything.”

Bullshit.

I look past him, catching one last glimpse of her disappearing around the corner. David follows my gaze, then looks back at me with that same infuriating smile.

“Looks like she finally sees you for the monster you really are.”

I grab the front of his jacket and slam him back into the wall, hard enough to rattle the framed artwork beside his head. His guards move instantly, hands dropping to their weapons, but David lifts a hand without taking his eyes off me.

They stop.

“Careful, K9. Take your hands off me before I have you demoted back to Lieutenant, where you belong.”

I hold his stare for a second longer, then shove off him and step back. He smooths the front of his jacket and adjusts one of his cuffs, eyes flicking toward the hallway AJ disappeared down before landing back on me.

“Let me make this simple for you, Maddox. If you so much as breathe in her direction again, I’ll make sure they never recover enough of your body to identify it.”

I don’t answer.

Because if I stay another second, I’m going to kill him. I turn and stalk toward the exit, barely registering the people who jump out of my way.

I wanted her to hate me.

I wanted her to stop looking at me like there was something worth saving. I just never thought she’d look at me like she was afraid.

The bell rings.

My fist cracks across the bastard’s jaw again, blood spraying hot across my chest and face. He’s down on one knee, fists half-lowered, too slow to block the next hit.

The bell rings again.

Someone shouts my name.

I hit him once more.

His head snaps sideways. Blood spatters across the mat. My knuckles split wider with the impact, but I barely feel it. I drive my fist into his face again, then again, until other Sovereigns are hauling me backward and the medical staff is flooding the ring around him.

I jerk out of their grip, sending one of them stumbling and hop down from the platform, chest heaving.

The bastard I was sparring isn’t moving. His blood slides down my ribs and drips from my jaw onto the concrete floor as I grab a towel and stalk toward the locker room.

Dropping onto the bench in front of my locker, I drag the towel over my face, smearing blood across the back of my hand.

The door swings open behind me.

“Jesus Christ.” Graves’s voice bounces off the cinderblock walls. “Remind me never to flirt with you when you’re on your period.” He sits on the bench beside me, smelling of cigarettes.

“He still breathing?”

“Unfortunately. But if it makes you feel better, he’s gonna be pissing through a tube for a while.”

I toss the blood-soaked towel onto the floor. “What do you want?”