Page 77 of A Wolf of War
“Long shift?” Milo asked, voice low.
Lachlan dropped the jacket over a chair, exhalinglike the weight of the day was still pressing on his shoulders. “Thirty-six hours, I think. I stopped counting after the twentieth.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, eyes half-shut, then glanced toward the kittens now attacking one another under the table. “At least someone in this house is thriving.”
Milo let out a faint huff of amusement, though his gaze didn’t leave Lachlan. He looked hollow, but grounded—same as always after a shift like that.
Lachlan dropped onto one of the stools at the island, propping his elbow on the counter and letting his cheek sink into his palm. He studied Milo with that slow, heavy stare that came after too many hours engaging his brain.
“Any updates on Jenner? Or anything else I should know?”
Milo leaned back against the counter, arms folded. “Touched base with our friend in the shipping container.”
Lachlan’s lip quirked. “Still in the shipping container?”
“Yes.”
“Y’know, I really think it’s part of his charm.”
A dry laugh passed Milo’s lips. “Jenner’s been… doing nothing. Which, honestly, isworse. He’s pulled away from his pack, but no one can make sense of why. It’s like he’s on a vacation of some sort.”
Lachlan’s eyes went unfocused as he processed, expression flat but alive beneath the exhaustion. Always thinking, always pulling strings together in his head even when the rest of him was running on fumes. Milo felt a rush of relief having him home again. For all the sidearms they carried, Lachlan’s mind was still one of their sharpest weapons.
“Think he had a falling out with McGarvey?”
“Doubt it.” Milo’s answer was immediate. “He wouldn’t walk away from that alive. Jenner’s the brains, sure—but at the end of the day, he’s still expendable if McGarvey thinks he’s going AWOL.”
Lachlan straightened in his seat, fatigue pushed aside as his gaze sharpened on Milo. “Then what if it’s deliberate? What if they’re trying to split your focus?”
Milo’s jaw flexed as he considered it, arms folding across his chest. His head tilted, weighing the words. It wasn’t impossible. In fact, the idea slotted into place far too neatly.
“But what exactly are they trying to pull me away from?” Milo asked, voice low.
“Does it matter?” Lachlan countered, tone steadybut edged with weariness. “You’re pulled in a dozen directions already. That’s the whole point—you won’t see the primary objective if you’re chasing all these offshoots. Jenner’s little disappearing act feels like the biggest carrot, so to speak.”
“Yeah?” Milo’s lip curled. “Well, I’m about ready to shove that carrot straight up his weasel ass.”
Lachlan’s laugh cracked the tension, soft but genuine, his eyes narrowing with amusement.
“Milo, you cannot still hate him for things that happened when we were kids.”
“I sure can, actually.”
“He was a little boy.”
“He was a slimy tattletale.”
“He’s a grown man now.”
“He’s just a bigger, slimier tattletale.”
“Oh, good lord. Here we go.” Lachlan pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Let me grab a chair.”
“You’re already sitting.”
“I’ll need another.”
Before he could retort, he felt her. But, millisecondsbefore that, he smelled her.
And so did Lachlan.
