Page 31 of A Wolf of War
Milo’s eyes flickered gold in the light of the sun’s dying throes, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “You have every right to hate me right now. But I am trying to keep you both safe.”
“Safe from what?” she demanded, stepping closer. “Certainly not from you.”
Willow’s breath caught. For a moment, neither of them moved. They were just two people on opposite ends of a battlefield that only one of them understood.
Finally, he spoke. “Please, Willow, just come eat.”
She stood there for a moment before she began moving toward him. Willow knew she needed to eat, even if such a standard thing would feel so abnormal in theseconditions.
***
The entire pack was present,save for Mr. Country Club, and so was enough food to feed a small army. As Willow and Milo stepped into the dining room, Lachlan and Titan were mid-argument, voices low and clipped, clearly discussing something urgent. But the moment they entered, the conversation stopped on a dime. Both men turned toward them, masks slipping into place like soldiers caught off-duty.
“Hey, you two. I hope you’re hungry,” Lachlan said, offering a crooked smile. His blue-green eyes sparkled with a kind of effortless charm that made her uneasy. Too friendly. Too normal.
The table was overflowing, plated high with dishes she knew and loved. Comfort foods, indulgences, it was all there. Willow shivered, arms wrapping tight around herself. He must have been watching her longer than she realized.
She should’ve run the second he said her name without her having mentioned it. Instead, she was here, a prisoner served her favorite meal. It felt so much like a death row nicety.
“You have to eat first, Willow,” came a Milo’s low voice to her left, “It’s a sign of respect. The alpha’s mate always eats first.”
Feeling acutely out of place—and cringing inwardly at being called his mate—Willow moved toward the table, hand trembling as she reached for a plate. The scent of the food was rich and overwhelming, and though her stomach growled traitorously, the rest of her was too tightly wound to feel real hunger. Every bite would taste like ash.
She let her stomach take over. A cautious scoop of shepherd’s pie. A spoonful of creamy potatoes au gratin. A slice of bittersweet cranberry sauce. Before she realized it, the plate was nearly full, her body betraying her again by reaching for comfort where her heart felt none.
By the time she made it to an empty seat at the long dining table, she wasn’t sure if she was dreading the meal or quietly grateful for the distraction it offered.
Maybe both.
16
MILO
As soon as Willow set her fork down, Milo moved with quiet precision. He waited until Titan and Lachlan had filled their plates, a code ingrained deep in his bones. The alpha ate last. Whether they were crouched over a fresh kill on a ridge in the wilderness or seated at a mahogany table with warmth and civility, the principle stood. Protecting your own was the only objective that truly mattered.
He made his own selections with purpose—grilled chicken, a rare steak, roasted potatoes, and a medley of vegetables. Functional food to fuel him. It was a habit rooted in years of training under a commanding officer who lived and breathed nutrition. The man had been intense, borderline obsessive, but Milo couldn’t argue with the results.
Sliding into the seat beside Willow, his gaze flicked briefly to her plate. She hadn’t gone for anything overly indulgent, but she’d chosen hearty, nostalgic comfort. He allowed himself the smallest glimmer of pride. Maybe she didn’t realize it yet, but she was choosing to find comfort in the situation, however meager. She was surviving.
And survival was the first step toward belonging.
He desperately wanted her to belong. Needed her to. Willow wasn’t just some captive in a cage—shewas a queen, a leader-in-waiting who had no idea of the weight her presence carried. Milo ached for the moment when she would see it. When she’d stop shrinking and start taking up space. The power she could hold was breathtaking, if she reached for it.
He glanced sideways, watching her closely, cataloging every twitch of her fingers, every breath she took. She didn’t know it yet, but this was already hers.
The house, the land, the empire...
She could have itall.
While Milo sank deeper into his thoughts, the clatter of forks and knives filled the room. Everyone had begun eating in earnest, the quiet falling naturally, comfortably, and easily. It was Lachlan, of course, who broke it. He had always been a unifying force among a group, even when he and Milo had been kids.
“So, how are classes going, Titan?” Lachlan asked, light but loaded with implication.
The younger wolf groaned dramatically, slumping back in his chair like the weight of academia might kill him. “Can we talk about literally anything else? McGarvey’s up my ass on every paper. I haven’t seen anything higher than a C in weeks. My GPA’scircling the drain.”
Lachlan barked out a laugh, shaking his head like an older brother watching a younger sibling flail.
“Have you tried telling McGarvey he can meet you out back?” Milo teased.
