Page 78 of A Wolf of War
Both men froze at once, realization striking like lightning, their eyes widening in unison. Lachlan rose slowly from his chair, and together they moved toward her—silent, deliberate, almost predatory in the way they closed the distance.
To her credit, Willow didn’t shrink back. But the shift in their energy had her stiffening, brows drawing tight as her gaze darted between them. The air was charged, heavy with something unseen, and still she held her ground, even when they leaned in, tentative and testing the air like hounds on a trail.
Milo hardly registered her sharp, impatient look. The annoyed confusion on her face drowned beneath the tidal wave of hormones and instinct. His body was taut as a nocked arrow, pulse stretching long and slow as he straightened, Lachlan mirroring the motion at his side.
“What are you doing?” Willow demanded at last, her voice tight with exasperation, though there was a thread of unease beneath it.
Milo’s throat worked. The words didn’t come easily, but his chest ached with the wonder of it. “Willow, sweetheart…” He paused, eyes alight, caught between awe and disbelief. “You’re pregnant.”
He would never forget the way her expression shifted in that heartbeat. Annoyance faltered into shock. And then, like glass fracturing, devastation exploded across her face.
37
WILLOW
Willow lay curled on her side in the darkness, her arms wound tight around a pillow as if it could keep her from falling apart. The room was quiet but for the soft, uneven sound of her own breathing—hitching, stifled sobs pressed into the cotton so no one would hear.
She tried not to think about their superhearing, and the fact that they probably could hear her anyway.
Her body shook with the weight of it, a life inside her. The words plastered across her brain like a map of clues she couldn’t make sense of. She hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t dreamed of it. And yet, there it was—woven into her blood, rooted in her uterus, threatening to change everything about her life once again.
Her fingers clutched harder at the pillow. She didn’t even know what she wanted. The idea of a child was terrifying enough, but the thought of becoming a mother in this world—one filled with violence, betrayal, and monsters she hadn’t even known existed a month ago—made her feel sick.
She loved Milo. Or at least, she was circling dangerously close to it. That was the problem. The thought of breaking him, of watching his face when she told him she didn’t want this, that she wanted it gone, turned her stomach inside out. His entire being seemed wired for legacy, for pack,for bloodline…
But she wanted her freedom.
She buried her face deeper into the pillow, hot tears spilling freely now. If she kept it, she wasn’t sure she’d survive it. If she ended it, she wasn’t sure their bond would. Panic clawed through her chest, sharp and merciless, until she thought she might choke on it.
Her tears slowed but didn’t stop. She stared into the darkness, vision blurred and eyes painful, thoughts circling like vultures.
Would Milo evenlether have an abortion?
The question bled through her mind before she could stop it, and the horror of it nearly broke her. She’d heard stories—women trapped in situations where their partners decided for them. Bodies treated like vessels. Dreams discarded because a man’s decision weighed heavier.
And Milo… God, Milo wasnotjust a man. He was an alpha. His world ran on dominance, on control. If she told him she didn’t want this, would he tighten the chain around her neck? Would he see her body as his to claim, his right to dictate?
The thought made her shake harder, clutching her stomach with trembling hands. Already, her mind replayed his protectiveness, his intensity,the way his voice roughened when he talked about mating and bonds. He was overwhelming at the best of times. How would he be now, with something that shared their DNA between them?
Willow buried her face in the pillow again, muffling a sob. She didn’t want to lose him. But she didn’t want to lose herself either.
The bedroom door opened with the faintest creak, soft enough that she might have missed it if not for the way her heart immediately jumped into her throat. Milo didn’t say a word. His footsteps padded across the floor, steady, careful, and then the mattress dipped behind her.
A warm arm slid around her waist, slow and unthreatening, pulling her back against the familiar breadth of his chest. His breath fanned over her hair as he pressed his face to the crown of her head, just holding her, giving her time.
Willow trembled, fighting to keep quiet, but the moment she turned in his arms and met the solid wall of him, the dam broke. She buried her face against his chest and sobbed, her hands fisting into his shirt like she might drown without him there to keep her afloat.
He tightened his hold, murmuring into her hair, “Shh, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Helet her cry, his hands stroking down her spine, his chin resting atop her head. And then, when her body finally slowed in its shaking, he whispered, raw and unguarded, “I love you, Willow. That doesn’t change. Not with this. Not with anything.”
Her throat clenched painfully. She dragged in a shaky breath, her voice muffled against him. “I don’t know what to do, Milo. I don’t know if I can—” Her words broke into another sob, tears soaking through his shirt. “I don’t know.”
He exhaled slowly, like he was forcing himself to be calm when he wanted to be anything but. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, tilting her gently so he could look at her. His gaze was steady, fierce in its softness. “Then you don’t have to decide right now. We’ll figure it out together. But listen to me, Willow…” His thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “What matters is what you want. No one else. Not even me.”
Her chest heaved, a ragged sob escaping as she collapsed against him again, clinging to him as if she were afraid he’d vanish. “I don’t know,” she wailed into his skin, the words breaking on every syllable.
He held her through it, strong and unyielding,whispering the same words over and over into the darkness. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Whatever you decide, I’ve got you.”
Her tears finally ebbed into hiccuping breaths, her body still trembling but no longer wracked with sobs. Milo’s warmth surrounded her, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm beneath her cheek. The silence stretched, weighted but safe, until Willow forced herself to lift her head, blinking at him through swollen eyes.
