The air in the woods feels thicker tonight. Lowell moves cautiously, keeping his footsteps silent against the crunch of dried leaves. Every sound seems louder, every shadow a threat. He’s too familiar with this game of cat and mouse, and Marco never plays fair.
But then it hits him.
A scent. Soft at first, like a whisper in the breeze. But it grows stronger, weaving through the air like an invisible thread, wrapping around him, pulling him in.
“What the hell…” Lowell stops dead, his chest tightening.
It’s her. Nana.
He knows it instantly, the scent as unmistakable as her voice. Sweet, warm, with that subtle hint of wildness he’s always associated with her. But there’s something different now, something more… potent.
And then it clicks.
Heat.
“f**k,” Lowell mutters, his fists clench
