Page 65 of A Wolf of War
“So,” he asked gruffly without looking up, “if you like animals this much, why don’t you already have some?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have had time to take care of them.” Her arms crossed, her tone dry but not sharp. “But now I don’t have a job, so… y’know. I think I can manage it.”
She didn’t sound genuinely upset. Which, somehow, irritated him more.
Milo exhaled hard as he scrawled the last signature and handed the clipboard back to the woman. Willow cradled the cardboard carrier like it was the most precious thing in the world, his card sliding into thereader, the beep of approval, and then the two of them stepping out into the evening air.
Titan was exactly where Milo had told him to be, posted by the SUV.
“Oh—Wow, I forgot you were even here,” Willow said, blinking at him in genuine surprise.
“Uh… thanks?” Titan frowned, leaning to get a look. “What’s in the box?”
Milo groaned, pulling open Willow’s door. She set the kittens down on the seat first, then climbed in and put the box in her lap.
“They’re kittens!” Willow announced to Titan as he slid into the back seat.
“You let her get kittens?” Titan said in pure disbelief, like Milo had just gone off the deep end.
Milo felt the urge to put his head through the steering wheel.
“So does this mean I can finally get a dog?” Titan leaned forward between the seats, all hope and no sense.
Milo shoved him back the same way he had earlier. “Absolutely the fuck not.”
“Come on, Milo. That’s so unfair, dude!”
“She doesn’t know it yet,” Milo said, eyes on the rearview, “but I’m making her take them back tomorrow.”
Willow’s head snapped toward him in horror and outrage. He couldn’t help it—he laughed, shaking his head as he eased the SUV out of the parking spot.
“Okay, but seriously, why can’t we get a dog?”
“Because we have you. Close enough.”
“Oh, fuck you, man.”
“Right back at you, punk.”
***
They stoppedat a pet store for the essentials, against Milo’s better judgment. The idea of walking into an unsecured location without eyes or ears already inside made his skin prickle.
But Willow had begged him, insisting the kittens couldn’t go without for even one night. And when she looked at him like that, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do but give in.
He grumbled the whole way in, pushing the cart with the boxed-up kittens riding in the seat. Willow moved ahead of him, plucking toys and treats from the shelves, comparing food brands like she was making a call that might decide the fate of the entire world.
She wore the quiet act of caring like it had alwaysbelonged to her. It likely had. His chest tightened as he watched her crouch to read the side of a bag, her hair falling forward, her lip caught lightly between her teeth.
She had no idea what she did to him. No idea how deep it went.
In his head, it was too easy to picture her like this in his home—barefoot, glowing, the swell of his child under her shirt as she moved around the kitchen, or leaned over a laundry basket. That vision hit low and hard, heat curling through him, possessive and dangerous. The beast was coming back to the surface, and it wanted to breed its bitch.
He dragged his eyes back to the cart, forcing himself to focus on the here and now. But the image stayed with him, stubborn as his thudding heartbeat.
“Are you okay?” Willow asked, brows knitting as she studied him.
“Yeah, fine. Just thinking.” His tone was easy, the smile that followed enough to put her at ease. She turned back to the row of litter boxes without pressing.
