Page 58 of A Wolf of War
Willow took a step forward, her socks silent against the cool tile, though the heat rising in her chest was anything but quiet. She could feel it, thick and bitter, crawling up her throat. Her eyes bounced between Milo and Lachlan, locking on the former.
“You don’t get to keep me in the dark,” she said, voice trembling at first, but growing steadier with every word. “If there’s danger, if something’s happening, I deserve to know.”
Milo’s jaw flexed. His arms crossed over his chest, his whole posture shifting into something immovable. “The less you know, the safer you are.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Willow stalked closer, planting herself in front of him, eyes blazing. “I’m not a child. I’ve been kidnapped, locked away, and dragged into your world without a choice. I have a right to know why you’re doing this to me.”
Lachlan cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, this is a whole lot of tension I don’t need before noon,” he mumbled, edging toward the door. “I’m gonna… give you two some space.”
He slipped out, disappearing into the house, leaving Willow and Milo locked in a standoff.
“I won’t lie to you,” Milo said quietly, but thefinality in his voice was unmistakable. “But I won’t tell you everything, either. Not yet.”
Willow shook her head, lips parted in disbelief. “Why not?”
“Because it’ll just scare you, Willow. There’s nothing you can do except stay here and make the best of it.” He stepped in closer, lowering his voice. “I won’t letanythinghappen to you. Ineedyou to trust me, baby. I promise.”
“Trustyou?” she echoed, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. “That’s rich, Milo. Really.” Her arms crossed over her chest like armor, trembling as she held herself together by sheer force of will. “You ripped me out of my life, kept me in the dark, and now you want trust from me?”
She took a shaky breath, but didn’t give him time to respond.
“I might—might—be able to forgive you for all of it. The kidnapping. The secrets. The manipulation. But only if you start talking to me like I matter. Like I’m a person, not some fragile thing you want to protect.” Her voice thickened, tinged with desperation now. “I don’t need you to shield me. I need answers. I deserve that much.”
Dread was clawing its way up her spine,cold and relentless. The kind of dread that whispered worst-case scenarios into her thoughts until they took root and grew thorns.
If Milo didn’t give her something soon, she was going to spiral.
“Is someone after me? Is Poppy in danger?” Willow’s voice was sharp, each word laced with rising panic.
Poppy.
The thought of her sister hit like a gut punch, her chest tightening with guilt. She hadn’t been thinking about her enough. Not like she should’ve.But how could she, trapped in this nightmare with her emotions twisted up in knots and her sense of reality fraying at the edges? Still, it didn’t excuse it.
Milo just stood there, silent.
He looked like a kicked dog—eyes soft, brow tight, the weight of the world painted across his face. That expression only made her angrier. She didn’t want pity. She wanted the truth. Her lips parted to unleash another wave of demands, but he cut her off before she could even inhale.
“Look, Willow. There are some people, some very bad people, who might want to get their hands on you.But we’ve got it handled. Poppy is fine. Arlo will move her to a secure location if necessary.”
Willow stared at him, pulse thudding in her ears.
Some very bad people.
The words settled like lead in her stomach, coiling tighter with each passing second. He’d said it so casually, like he was begging her to stay calm. Like he hadn’t just confirmed her worst fear in a tone better suited for weather reports.
Her arms wrapped tighter around herself. She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. If the head of the fucking werewolf mafia thought they were bad, then what kind of monsters were they really?
This was a man who could break someone in half without blinking. A man who had served in the military and who now ran a criminal empire. And he was afraid?
Her knees felt weak.
She wanted to believe him—wanted to cling to the idea that Poppy was safe. That Arlo would protect her. But Willow’s trust had been scraped raw, and every new truth felt like a lemon being pressed into the wound.
Still, the look in Milo’s eyes… It begged her to believe that he’d keep her safe. And she wanted so desperately to give him that faith.
Willow swallowed the lump in her throat, the tension pressing hard against her ribcage. Her voice came out low, barely more than a whisper.
“Who’s after me, Milo?”
