"I smell rust and rot, yeah," Cain muttered, his nose wrinkling as he tested the air, "but that's all."
Leticia stepped closer, slow and cautious, as if approaching an animal foaming at the muzzle.
"Will-yum, baby… maybe we step outside, jus' breathe some fresh air, cher? Come on back after. Nothin' gotta be rushed."
"You don't get it!" William's roar echoed up the steel walls. His pupils were blown to thin slits, vibrating with animal terror. He jerked his head side to side, eyes chasing shadows that weren't there. "It's here! Can't you smell it? That stink—burned venison—Jesus Christ! It's choking me, it's wrapping around me!"
He hissed the words through clenched teeth, ripping his own forearms open with hooked claws, blood sliding down his wrists in sharp drops.
Cain sucked in a breath through his teeth, grimacing.
"Man, I don't smell jack. Just old meat and rust and—"
