Page 41 of I’m The Worst

I don’t care.

I just need silence. Inside my head. Inside my chest. Just silence.

Even if it kills me.

AJ’s been out cold most of the drive, slumped against the far window in the back seat.

Thank fuck.

Silence is the only mercy I’ve had since dragging her out of that basement. When she’s awake, she’s always too fucking close. Always talking. Always touching. Like she can’t tell when a man doesn’t want a goddamn thing to do with her.

Snow blurs past the windows, the endless white swallowing the world. The road’s shit, and the truck keeps jerking through ice ruts.

Hours pass. The sky goes dark fast this far north. Another night in another shithole. This mission just never fucking ends.

We stop for gas. I grab two sandwiches and a bottle of water from the rear cargo, get back in the truck, slam the door, and toss the food into her lap.

“Wake up.”

She shifts at the sound of my voice. Eyes crack open. And that’s all I need.

Her pupils are blown wide.

My hand snaps out before I think. I grab her chin, pinning her head still when she tries to pull away.

“What the fuck did you take?” I bite out.

She mumbles something useless, barely words.

My grip tightens. “Don’t play stupid.”

She tries to look away again, but I force her face back to mine, fingers digging into her jaw.

“Answer me.”

When she doesn’t respond, I shove her back into the seat, unzip her jacket, and shove my hand under the hoodie, my fingers curling at her waistband. I feel it immediately. A warm baggie. I rip it free and hold it inches from her face.

“This shit? What is it, AJ? Who gave this to you?”

Her lips tremble. “Wolff…please⁠—”

“Who. Gave. It. To. You.” I slam the bag against the window, leaving a smear on the glass.

Her whole body jumps. “S-Sergei.”

My molars grind as my blood boils.

Her eyes start to close again, eyelids fluttering.

She’s high. Really fucking high.

I hold her tighter, and she winces. “Was I not clear? When I told you to stay away from them?”

“I’m sorry⁠—”

You will be.

I yank the door open and drag her with me. Her boots skid on the icy gravel as she stumbles. The men are leaning against the truck, smoking, laughing like they’re on vacation. Sergei looks up first. A smug grin spreads across his face when he sees her.