Page 5 of A Wolf of War
Milo’s ears perked, but he kept his face impassive.
“Sure is. Really love the flowers and the birds.”
McGarvey smiled at the lackluster reply. “The birds and the bees, as well.” A scuffle caught Milo’s attention. Titan dove out of the way as the previously tied-up man lunged after him. Rolling his eyes, Milo glanced back at McGarvey. The man’s eyes had never left him. His icy blue gaze sent a chill down Milo’s spine.
“Alright, enough. Let’s go,” McGarvey barked, turning his gaze back to the car.
The kidnapped man stormed past them, throwing open the door to the SUV and slamming himself inside.
“So dramatic, isn’t he?” McGarvey murmured, amused.
“I might have been more so, myself,” Milo responded dryly.
“I’m sure you would. It’s higher stakes when you suddenly have so much to lose.”
That caught Milo’s attention. He couldn’t possibly be talking about Willow. They shouldn’t even know about her. No one outside of his pack did. He declined to respond, however, and raise even higher the guillotine hanging overhead.
“You’re absolutely right. Good night, McGarvey. Let’s not do this again.”
With that, Milo turned sharply, Arlo and Titan following, and the three walked away, not once looking back.
3
WILLOW
Sunlight filtered through the windows, stretching across her giant bed, inching closer and closer to her face. Willow shifted restlessly, trying to avoid the early morning. After the third attempt, she sat up with a frustrated huff.
It was Saturday, 6:00 a.m. Why the hell was she up so early on a Saturday? Especially after a night like the one before. She’d barely scraped together five hours of sleep—far too little for her to function properly, usually.
Willow rolled over and felt something hard jab into her side. Her brow furrowed, and she reached beneath herself, letting out a little laugh when she realized what it was.
“Oh, uh, hey. I think it’s time to go home now.”
She leaned over to slip the sex toy back into the drawer of her bedside table, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Standing up, she winced, her head throbbing lightly. It wasn’t unbearable. She’d braced herself for a full-blown hangover, but instead, it felt like she could take some ibuprofen and move on. She was feeling oddly optimistic about the day ahead.
After all, there was a farmer’s market downtown.
Willow padded over to her dresser, pulling out her clothes for the day. She chose a white tank top embroidered with delicate sky-blue birds, one of herfavorite shirts, with blue jean shorts. The forecast had sold her on the promise of warm weather, perfect for getting a little sun.
She and Poppy didn’t go into the heart of the city much. It was only a fifteen-minute drive, but Willow’s anxiety kept her from getting behind the wheel of a car. Poppy didn’t mind the traffic, but her tendency to drive like a rally car racer put Willow off taking trips with her sister.
Today, she decided she’d pop an anti-anxiety pill and just try to get through it. There was ice cream to devour, lattes to sip, and baked goods to acquire.
Willow made her way downstairs. The condo was hers for the moment; Poppy wouldn’t be awake for a couple of hours at least. The stillness of the morning was a blessing. She loved lighting candles and sipping coffee in the quiet before the world was awake. As much as she adored Poppy, her rapid-fire chatter wasn’t exactly ideal while she was still trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.
Willow slowly began working the drip coffee maker, filling a liner with fresh grounds and then setting it to make a full pot. Her sister insisted they use it instead of a newer machine that used plastic pods. “Terrible for the environment and our bodies! There are microplastics,Willow!” she had said. Once the coffee maker was done brewing, Willow filled a white mug with the ambrosia of dawn.
Swirling steam danced upward, a soft tornado of scent. She liked her coffee sweeter than most, much to Poppy’s dismay. Her sister was convinced that sugar before noon would ruin your entire day. It was endearing, her need to protect Willow however she could, even if it ended in rolling eyes and exaggerated sighs.
With her creamy, sweet beverage in hand, Willow sank into a seat at the counter. The ceramic mug warmed her chilled fingers, grounding her.
She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on nothing but the warmth of the mug, the taste of the coffee on her lips, and the rich, comforting aroma that surrounded her.
***
“Come on,Willow, it’s not that bad!”
Willow was not reassured by her sister’s words. She gripped the handle above her seat with one hand, her other clutching the middle console as if it could somehow anchor her. The anxiety was suffocating.
