Page 62 of A Wolf of War
Her gaze flicked to Milo at the wheel, his profile calm and controlled. The same man who had taken her against her will now positioned himself between her and another predator. Her captor, now her protector. The paradox made her skin prickle.
Logic said she shouldn’t trust him—not entirely, or maybe not at all. But the truth was, if McGarvey’s people came for her right now, she’d want him there to save her.
That thought twisted in her chest, leaving her unsettled. Every time she thought she had her emotions in order, something else blindsided her, and everything inside her knotted back up again.
She turned back to the window, willing the road ahead to hold no surprises. But deep down, she knew that with Milo, surprises were inevitable.
It was the very nature of the beast.
Ofhisbeast.
Willow’s feet swung lazily in time with the music; some heavy metal track she didn’t recognize. The riffs crawled over her skin in a way that made her shudder with delight.
“You like that, huh?” Milo’s voice cut through, casual, his sunglasses catching the last blaze of the setting sun.
“I’m a fan,” she said, forcing a small smile when he glanced at her.
“Nice.”
The rest of the drive slipped into a comfortable quiet, the kind that almost let her drift off. Her eyelids were heavy when Milo eased the SUV into a right turn and rolled into a parking lot. She blinked, straightening, and scanned their surroundings.
A plant nursery.
Willow arched a brow at him, unsure what to make of it. He was drumming a finger against the steering wheel, watching her with a look that suggested she was supposed to react.
“Uh… thanks?” she offered, her mouth curving into a crooked smile. It wasn’t that she minded—plants were fine—but it wasn’t exactly what she’d expected when leaving the safety of the manor. Whatever reason he had for bringing her here, she decided not to question it.
Titan yawned, then leaned forward between the front seats. Milo turned and shoved his head back with a flat palm, forcing him into the rear again.
“Aw, fuck you, Milo,” Titan muttered, raking a hand through his mussed hair.
“Fuck yourself.” Milo reached into the console and held out a small case. “Here. Earbuds. You know the drill.”
Titan took them, sliding them in before making a move for the door.
“Oh, and Titan?”
He paused, glancing back.
“Don’t fuck it up, or it’ll be the last thing you ever fuck up. Tracking?”
Titan’s smile was tight, the kind that knew better than to push back. “Tracking,” he confirmed, before slipping out fast.
Willow crossed her arms, watching him disappear. “Do youreallyneed to be such a dick to him?” She didn’t see the point in grinding down the youngest member of the pack. She’d never been a fan of hazing.
Milo hummed low in his throat, one arm stretched out on the wheel, the other resting loosely in his lap.
“Yeah,” he said at last, a playful grin tugging at his mouth. “I do, actually.”
She huffed, not satisfied with the answer. “What are we waiting for, anyway?”
“Titan’s sweeping the place before we step inside. Cameras already say it’s clean, but I want boots on the ground before we arrive.”
The nerves she tried to bury flickering in her eyes. Her fingers worked restlessly in her lap, twisting until her knuckles turned pink. Milo still spoke like a soldier—clipped, precise—and she found herself wondering if that would ever fade.
Milo plucked another earbud from a separate case, fitting it snugly in place before pressing a finger to its side. “Titan, do you copy?”
A brief pause. Then, “I copy. Over and out.”
