Page 33 of A Wolf of War
Milo tipped his head and looked at her, like she was some specimen he hadn’t finished studying. His gaze softened, warming as he cataloged each curve and crinkle of her face. The way her brows knit when she was uncertain. The tiny twitch in her jaw when she was trying to be brave. The lines near her mouth—not from sorrow, but from joy. From laughter.Fromlove.
She was so many things he was not.
And that was exactly why he needed her.
Not just as his mate, but as the part of him that had been missing all along.
The best part of him, he hoped.
When she walked away, Milo watched every step. The sway of her hips, the line of her spine as it curved down into the delicious swell of her ass—it was all burned into his memory, filed away like classified intel.
There were moments when he wished he’d installed cameras in the room he’d built for her. Not for control. Not even for strategy. Just to see her. To know she was safe. To feel connected. But he hadn’t.Because now, it wouldn’t be for her safety.
Before, he had only wanted to connect with her on a personal level, had only wanted to keep tabs on her to ensure her safety. He didn’t have the same excuse anymore. It would now feel like a violation.
Milo scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking the thought loose like a soldier clearing a jammed weapon. He didn’t have time for self-indulgence. Not tonight. Not with everything else in motion.
Pining could wait.
His wolves needed him.
***
“You know,this shit is getting really old.”
“Shut up, Titan, and keep digging.”
They were deep into nowhere now, miles beyond the last semblance of civilization. Just trees, shadows, and the cold bite of a springtime night. The air clung damp and sharp to their skin, but sweat still beaded down their necks andsoaked their collars as they worked.
Above them, the moon hung like a lazy sentinel, just a sliver of silver barely cutting through the dark. It wasn’t enough to see by, but they didn’t need light to do what they were doing. They’d done it often enough at this point. For Milo, perhaps in a different way entirely, but it was really all the same.
The job was simple. Two dealers had gone off script, started cutting shit into product without permission. Thought they could make a few extra bucks on the side and not pay the cost. Milo didn’t tolerate that kind of thinking.
Punishment was swift. Ruthless. Eternal.
And Milo always carried it out himself.
With every shovelful of cold earth, Milo cursed their names under his breath. His movements were sharp and methodical, the kind of effort that came not from anger but from a deep, steady belief in consequence. Justice, after all, didn’t have to shout. It just had to bury you deep enough that no one ever found you.
Milo paused, one boot crunching against the torn-up soil as he leaned forward, resting both hands on the shovel’s handle. His phone buzzed insistently against his thigh, a signal from the only man with clearance tointerrupt him mid-burial.
With a grunt, he yanked the device from his back pocket and pressed it to his ear. “Kind of busy here, Arlo.”
“Yeah, I figured. Didn’t mean to rain on your little funeral parade,” Arlo replied, voice laced with his usual dry edge, “but I thought you’d want to be in the know on this particular piece of intel.”
Milo’s jaw tightened. His eyes flicked toward Titan, who was still digging like his life depended on it. In fairness, it kind of did.
“I’m listening,” he said.
PART II
17
WILLOW
Willow walked the stairs slowly, her fingers trailing along the smooth banister. Every step echoed, feet dragging just enough to show her reluctance. The house was beautiful, achingly so. Not in the garish way that new money bragged. No, this was generational elegance. Quiet wealth, the type that whispered.
She took her time, letting her gaze linger on the oil paintings that lined the walls and on the antique rugs, woven with intricately detailed stories. Everything here had been chosen with intention, every detail laid out like a visual seduction.
