Page 195 of I’m The Worst

No answer.

Rolling my eyes, I slam the door shut behind me, wandering back toward the kitchen. Jackal’s barking fades into an annoyed little huff as he circles my legs.

“Good boy.” I scratch behind his ears with my free hand.

I set the bottle on the counter, grab a glass, and pour another drink. After knocking it back in one swallow, I pour another.

Jackal’s low growl stops me cold.

I turn toward him, following his stare to the back door. The glare from the kitchen lights turns the glass black, leaving only the shape of someone standing on the deck.

“Jesus, Sien⁠—”

I head for the door, but the second I pull it open, the words die in my throat.

It’s not Sienna.

It’s Wolff.

That stupid wolf mask from the Hunt hides most of his face. Leather gloves cover his hands. A black jacket is zipped all the way to his throat, making his shoulders look even broader. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stands there in the dark, staring at me through the hollow black eyeholes.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

Jackal moves in front of me with another growl, hackles raised, teeth flashing.

I fold my arms over my chest and glare at the mask. “What do you want? Because if you came here to fuck me, you can forget it. I’m not that stupid anymore.”

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a knife.

“Very funny.”

He flips it once in his hand, the blade flashing under the moonlight.

“Are you fucking insane?” I back up a step. “Get the hell out of my house.”

Jackal barks viciously, teeth bared.

“You don’t scare me, Wolff. Leave before I call my dad.”

He steps inside. The back door swings shut behind him with a quiet click. A chill slides down my spine.

“Wolff—”

He keeps coming. I back up faster, pulse roaring in my ears.

“Stop. I’m serious.”

Jackal lunges first.

Wolff moves so fast, I barely see it—he kicks the puppy hard, sending him tumbling across the kitchen floor with a pained yelp. Jackal slams into the island. A bottle of vodka shatters, glass exploding across the tile.

“No!” I scream, the sound ripping out of me as I rush toward Jackal.

My bare feet crunch over broken glass, but the pain barely registers. All I see is my dog whimpering, blood already streaking his fur.

Wolff beats me there.

He grabs Jackal by the scruff and drags him across the broken shards. The puppy whimpers and yelps, still snapping weakly, trying to bite.