He was looking at the world from a slightly taller height. The colors felt flatter. The air colder.
He was inside Bone Fist.
The sensation was strange. There was no heartbeat in his chest. No breath filling his lungs. And yet, he could feel strength. Raw, compact power coiled in every limb. The undead body was sturdy, dense, almost immovable. It didn't ache. It didn't tire.
It felt wrong.
Without hesitation, Aiden bent Bone Fist's knees and leapt.
The jump was clean and silent. He caught the edge of the second-floor window frame with ease, fingers biting into the wood. No strain. No shaking. Just controlled strength.
Carefully, he shifted to the side and peered through a small opening in the curtains.
Inside, Vayne was already tangled with the woman on the bed.
He focused his gaze elsewhere, scanning the room instead of staring directly. Candles burned steadily. Silk curtains swayed slightly. Nothing looked out of place.
Then he noticed it.
A scent.
