Page 58 of I’m The Worst

Before I can say anything, he’s out of the truck. I scramble after him, dragging my duffle through the snow.

Inside, the empty building is freezing. Savva is breaking apart wooden crates, stacking pieces into a rough pile.

Wolff grabs my arm as I step in, his grip firm as he steers me into a darker corner, away from the others.

“Sit. Shut up.”

Swallowing a huff, I drop to the floor. He sits a few feet away from me, gun in his hands, angled toward the only entrance.

“What’s going on?” I whisper. “Where are we?”

Nothing.

He looks…off.

Not that he ever looks normal, but this is different. Pissed. More wound up than usual. His attention flicks between the door, the windows, Savva’s men.

Savva crushes his cigarette under his boot and sparks the fire. The flames catch slowly, then build, pushing heat into the room. Wolff pulls my sleeping bag from his duffle and tosses it over without looking at me.

I slip inside it, curling into the warmth. It helps a little, but not enough.

Time drags by slowly. Only Viktor and Niko talk, murmuring to each other under their breath. Wolff stays still beside me, eyes locked on the door. The firelight catches on the blade flipping slowly between his fingers. Over and over.

“Do you have any family? Anyone waiting for you in Chicago?”

Nothing.

“Is your family Sovereign?”

Still nothing.

My chest aches. I think about Gage—his stupid jokes, that loud laugh he always tries to hide. I miss him so much, it hurts.

“My brother just finished recruit training.” My voice cracks a little. “He was so excited. Couldn’t shut up about finally taking the vow and getting branded.”

I rub my face, nerves making my words spill faster, not that it matters. “Why are we even traveling with Savva and his men if you don’t trust them?”

“The Nightshades are looking for two people.”

I try to hide the shock on my face that he’s actually talking.

“Not a group. Gives us cover. Makes us harder to track.”

I open my mouth to ask another question.

“Go to sleep,” he cuts in.

“I don’t think I can…”

He reaches into his duffel, pulls out an empty magazine and a box of bullets, and drops them into my lap without looking at me.

“Then shut up and practice loading a clip.”

I stare down at the magazine, then back up at him.

“So…teaching me to shoot. Now this. Wow.” I glance back at the bullets, turning one between my fingers. “Keep this up, and I might start thinking you’re opening up to me. Or worse,” I add under my breath, “being nice.”

He keeps flipping the knife, eyes never leaving the door.