Page 63 of A Wolf of War
He turned to her, his voice low, almost gentle. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
For once, she didn’t bristle at the endearment. A faint, weary smile tugged at her mouth as she nodded. Together, they stepped out of the SUV, the air outside cooler, sharper, and carrying the weight of whatever waited in their future.
***
“Are you fucking joking?”Willow’s voice pitched up in surprise as she clutched his arm, her face breaking into a grin so wide it almost startled her. Her eyes lit, sparkling as she took in the scene ahead.
A little animal shelter.
“They do this every week,” Milo said, as if it were nothing. “Figured you might like to play with some puppies.”
His tone was casual, but she could feel the tension coiled beneath it, the way he was watching her too closely. He was waiting for something—for the other shoe to drop, maybe. And it hit her then that after everything, he might not fully trust this version of her. The onesmiling, excited. The one who, for the moment, had forgotten to fight him.
“I’ve heard of these. They do it for adoption events or whatever, right?” She asked.
“Yeah, exactly.”
Willow’s hand rested lightly on his arm as they walked in step. His scent wrapped around her—clean and sharp, with something darker and muskier beneath. Where they touched, heat seemed to pool under her skin, spreading until she felt luminous. Milo adjusted his arm, crooking it to give her a more secure hold, and the small gesture sent warmth through her.
She was… happy. If this were another life—her life, the one she’d had before—she could have sworn this was the kind of man she might marry. The kind she’d come home giddy over, curling up on the couch to gush to Poppy about how he’d swept her off her feet with a thoughtful surprise.
But this wasn’t that life.
And Milo wasn’t just some man.
In fact, he wasn’t merely a man at all.
The reality pressed in like a cold draft, reminding her of the jagged edges beneath the moment. She was still caught in a web of shifting danger and emotional whiplash, and the sweetness of it all deflated under the weight of that truth.
“Hey. You good?”
She glanced over to findMilo watching her, his gaze lit with concern.
Willow brushed her hair out of her face and looked straight ahead. “Yeah. Fine. Just… a little all over the place. It’s a lot to process.”
Silence stretched for a beat before his free hand came over to cover hers, still hooked in the crook of his arm.
“It’s going to be alright,” he said, voice low, steady. “Whatever comes, we were always meant to be with each other. You feel it too. I know you do.”
She tensed. Her mouth opened, ready to tell him to tone it down, but he kept going.
“We don’t have to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just… enjoy tonight. Pretend it’s all fine. Just for a little while.”
Willow let the words settle. He wasn’t wrong—dragging herself through the weight of it now would ruin the one moment of lightness she’d had in what felt like years. With a small nod, she decided to let herself breathe.
Just like Milo had said.
Just for a little while.
30
MILO
“Absolutely not.”
Milo pinched the bridge of his nose, elbow braced in the palm of his other hand. When he finally looked up, his fingers slid to cup his cheek, and he found Willow staring at him with the most pitiful expression he’d ever seen.
His chest gave an uncomfortable squeeze.
