Talia’s POV
I found him by scent.
Not because I was a wolf.
Not because I could truly smell the world the way others did.
But because Nixon’s presence was impossible to miss.
Violence had a scent.
So did loneliness.
And Nixon carried both like a second skin.
The pack bar sat near the western side of the territory, crowded and loud tonight with drunken wolves escaping winter cold through liquor and temporary affection. Music vibrated through the wooden walls hard enough for me to feel the rhythm beneath my shoes as I approached.
I disliked places like this.
Too noisy.
Too emotionally crowded.
Too human.
Yet Nixon was here.
And somehow…
I had come after him.
The realization unsettled me deeply.
I paused outside the entrance, fingers tightening slightly around the fabric of m
