He leaned his head back as if something invisible drifted through the air, lodging in his senses. His nostrils flared. He drew a slow, deep, reverent breath, oddly out of place in a post-apocalyptic lane.
Like someone who had just smelled the most heavenly dish in a world that had forgotten flavour.
Ivan's posture tightened.
Voss's gaze narrowed.
Leaf Team's eyes stayed calm, but their attention shifted, a quiet click signalling that instincts were waking up.
None of them spoke. No one asked what he smelled. No one had to.
Because the scent wasn't here in a body, it was here in residue, on Ivan's clothing, on Voss's skin.
In the faint warmth that clung to men who had been close to Felicity only minutes ago.
The man's eyes did not widen. His expression did not change. But the pause lingered long enough to become a statement.
Leaf Team, the unmated apex mercenaries who had never shown interest, had just reacted to something they could not name.
