Page 51 of I’m The Worst

Weston sees it and doesn’t waste time. He slides a file across the desk. The papers scatter.

“Her name is Autumn Jane, but everyone calls her AJ.”

A photo lands in front of me.

She’s smiling, bright and alive. The kind of expression that doesn’t belong anywhere near this world.

“She was taken in Greece, attending a wedding. We traced the shipment as far as Russia then lost her. Akim has her now.” His jaw tightens. “I’ve never done business with that man. Never needed to. I don’t deal with traffickers. I offered him more money than most men see in ten lifetimes. He laughed. Said she was useful.”

I glance down at the file, flipping it open just enough to scan the surface details.

“She was the only one taken?” I ask.

He nods. “There were others in the area. Servants. Wedding guests. Locals. He didn’t touch them. Just her.”

Yeah. That’s not random. That’s targeted.

I close the file slowly, my thumb dragging along the edge of the paper. No one grabs a Sovereign Commander’s daughter by accident. And they sure as hell don’t refuse that kind of money unless they’ve already been paid.

Weston’s gaze drops back to the photo, his grip tightening around the frame.

“I have a future waiting for her. I was going to tell her when she returned from Greece…” He reaches down, fixing the chair that he knocked over earlier. “I arranged her marriage to a Commander. He’ll take care of her. She’ll… She’ll be happy.”

I glance back at the photo.

I’ve done a lot of shit I shouldn’t have.

But this…

Weston looks up at me again. But I don’t see a Commander. I see a desperate father.

“Please, Wolff. Bring my baby girl home.”

I hold his gaze.

And I don’t ask the question sitting at the back of my throat.

What aren’t you telling me?

Idon’t know what time it is when the door finally opens, but the room is dark except for the cold moonlight spilling across the floor. Wolff steps inside. The hardwood creaks under his weight.

He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t speak.

Of course he doesn’t. The man only opens his mouth to give me orders.

He moves straight to the dresser and starts laying out weapons. Metal clinks softly in the quiet. Every motion is precise, like he could do it with his eyes closed.

I watch him from the bed, arms wrapped around my knees. When he finally glances up, his eyes immediately find mine.

“Can you teach me to do that?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

His eyebrow lifts a fraction. “Teach you how to use a gun?”

I nod.

“No.”

He turns back to the dresser like the conversation is over.