Page 17 of A Wolf of War
Milochecked his watch.
22:30.
Right on schedule.
Arlo would be closing in any second. Milo shifted his gaze to Willow, who was blissfully unaware of the world about to crack open at her feet.
He reached out, fingers curling gently around her shoulder. “Do you trust me, Willow?” he asked, serious in a way that sliced through her calm.
Willow’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide, body trembling under his touch. “I... I think so,” she whispered, the stammer revealing her uncertainty. Milo’s thumb traced slow, soothing circles against her shoulder as something massive stirred just beyond the clearing.
Arlo emerged out of the dark, his wolf form silent and hulking, black with streaks of gray around his muzzle and eyes. He looked like death incarnate, and he was staring straight at Willow.
“Don’t freak out, baby,” Milo murmured, his hand tightening slightly. “Just look behind you.”
Willow turned, inch by inch, likely unsure of what she’d find at nearly midnight in the woods.
And once she saw it, she screamed.
9
WILLOW
Willow shrieked, falling back in a frenzied scramble to put distance between herself and the animal. It looked like a wolf—except she’d never seen a wolf that big, even in a documentary or at a zoo. It was massive.
She was also pretty damn sure wildlife wasn’t supposed to be this bold. Or this close.
Unless it was starving.
Or rabid.
Each horrifying thought sent fresh waves of panic radiating through her chest. They rattled in her ribcage until her diaphragm hurt with her terror. Willow’s breaths came sharp and shallow, clouds of vapor curling in the frigid air as she fought off her desire to run. She was fairly certain running was the wrong option.
She squeezed her eyes shut, heart pounding, praying that when she opened them again, it would all be different.
Arms wrapped around her. Strong. Steady. Smelling like peppermint and vanilla. Milo pulled her close, and the moment his warmth pressed against her, the world steadied. In the middle of her chaos, his gravity pulled her slowly down until her feet could rest on solid ground.
“It’s okay, Willow. It’s just Arlo.”
“It has aname?” she whispered, high and frantic.
“Heis actually my best friend.”
She’d always heard dogs were man’s best friend, and sure, that might track for a guy like Milo. But knowing that did absolutely nothing to calm the fear unfurling inside her chest.
Willow clung to him like he was her lifeline, fingers digging into his forearms with a bruising grip. If it weren’t for his jacket, she would be scared of cutting into his skin. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she had to be hurting him.
He gave her a firm squeeze and then let go completely.
She whimpered, instinctively reaching for him again, but Milo was already up, turning away from her and calling to the animal like it wasn’t the stuff of nightmares. Her stomach dropped. The giant creature ambled toward them, each heavy pawfall sounding through the clearing with a thump, thump, thump. Willow swore the ground itself recoiled beneath it.
Best friend?she thought to herself with a growing dread.Maybe if you’re the reigning lord of hell.
“Arlo, roll over for us,” Milo said, his voice laced with amusement. It was strange how light hesounded in the presence of a creature that could easily tear them apart, but that ridiculous request made her let out a shaky laugh of her own. And when the massive beast obeyed, getting down and rolling onto its back with a grunt, she felt herself smiling nervously.
The whole thing was absurd.
Then his tone shifted, warmth turning to hesitance. “There’s something I haven’t told you, Willow,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been completely honest. But I think you’ll understand why.”
