The hacking sound makes Kaiden freeze. His muscles tense and all his movements pause, even his breathing. Like a faucet that's been turned off, the pheromones he had been unconsciously exuding vanishes in a split second.
It's all an attempt to make his presence smaller, if not invisible—a series of actions that is inherent through instinct but has been trained through repeated practice.
Kaiden doesn't have the mind to worry about how between fight or flight, his response is to freeze. He can't afford to when there's only one question in his mind:
How did he not notice that someone was there?
Still, the thick scent of his sadness lingers in the space between him and the source of the sound. He can't think properly when his mind is clouded by fear, a buzz of memories ringing in his ears.
