Page 1 of The Firefighter's Fate

PROLOGUE

CONNOR

I emerge from the fire with black soot on my face and anger brewing in my heart. The fire itself is not anything I care about, and the soot covering me is something I can easily get rid of.

But the anger never goes away.

I’m simply doing my job – the job I am trained to do well - but nothing can prepare me for what happens next.

Nothing prepares me for what is waiting at the fire station...

I have had to deal with a lot of crap in my role as a firefighter, and every job I’m called out for is another job I hate. It’s an occupation where you don’t actually want to do the occupation. Some days you wish you were just back at the station – bored at your wit’s end – because at least that means no one out there is getting hurt.

That’s why I hate going out on jobs – seeing ordinary people in pain.

And seeing people die.

This is not one of the good days. I’ve seen people hurt today. And we’ve tried our best to help them despite the suffering it inflicts and the soot it covers and the effort it requires. Buildings may collapse and prized possessions may burn in the flames, but you can’t bring back a human life, no matter how good of a firefighter you are.

I try to securely fast them to the back of my mind... those images of people hurt. I have to, otherwise I wouldn’t get the job done. As a firefighter, I have been a witness to the best of humanity, and also the worst.

And some days it’s hard to remind yourself of the good. But when you see that child smile, or that adult thank you from the bottom of their heart, or that mother cry in pure joy as you hand over their baby you’ve just saved... those are the moments that make all the bad days worth it.

And now I’m being driven back from the job, and the anger is still there, and the black soot is still stuck to my face, and my hair seems like it’s been burnt off, but I am calm. I’m calm because I know we’ve done all that we can - that’s all we can do as firefighters.

I step through the front doors of Crystal River’s sole fire station, and I see a sight that shouldn’t be seen. It’s a sight worse than a home on fire.

Yeah, I’m not prepared to see him.

My father.

The bastard.

The very same man who caused all the anger forever brewing in my heart.

He’s standing in my fire station. Waiting for me.

“What do you want, Waylen?” I ask him sharply and bluntly as I come to a stop in front of him – the anger clear in my deep, violent tone. Only a few yards separate us, but there is also a chasm between father and son full of years of suffering.

Dust and ash fall from my uniform. I’m probably barely unrecognizable under the soot and the slight burns. I can tell my hair is a mess.

And yet my father instantly knows it’s me.

He looks so out of place in this building with his fancy, tailored European suit and perfect hair. He is a man with enough wealth to buy this building and all of its contents and not even bat an eyelid at the expense. I’ve come from that money.

But the man doesn’t belong here... this fire station is a place of work – honest, manual work with your hands – and my father hasn’t done a day’s manual work in his entire life.

“You might as well call me by my first name,” my father replies. “I will let that slide. I need to talk to you, Connor.”

I stand up tall and stay put on the other side of the room to Father. We’re in the main reception area of the fire station. My firefighting colleagues – all drenched in the same soot and ash as I am – have smartly slipped away to give us privacy. They don’t have any desire in the slightest to be a part of this confrontation.

My heart is beating fast as I look at the preened face of the man who raised me.

“I know why you’re here,” I say with unsubtle menace dripping in my voice. “I know what you’re going to say to me...”

“Then there’s no point in me being here, then.”

Father turns to leave, but I cut him off.

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