ECHOES OF BLOOD
(Sasha's POV)
I have always believed that fear has a smell.
Most people think fear looks a certain way.
Shaking hands.
Sweaty foreheads.
Stuttering voices.
They're wrong.
Fear has a smell.
A distinct one.
Sharp.
Bitter.
Almost metallic.
And after spending most of my life around criminals, liars, and killers, I learned how to recognize it almost immediately.
The man sitting across from me smelled exactly like fear.
The warehouse was silent except for the distant hum of machinery outside.
Scara stood against the wall with his arms folded while several wolves watched from different corners of the room.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Everyone was waiting for me.
But I wasn't in a hurry.
Prison taught me patience.
My father taught me patience was a weapon.
T
