Page 91 of The Firefighter's Fate

“That’s the article,” I announce grandly, nodding at the pile. “All done, as you requested. I’m pretty proud of it. The thing was not easy to write.”

Waylen, sitting in his plush office chair, doesn’t even look at the work.

“I’ll read it later,” he calmly replies, his intense focus totally on me.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“You’re done, then?” he asks me.

I nod.

“Yes, I’m done.”

“You know Connor won’t want to see you again, even if you do write a glowing article about him.”

I shrug. “I did what you asked me to do.”

“Yes, you did. And I am sure it matches my expectations. It’s just a shame that it didn’t work.”

“Yeah. I know. So, I’m not fired?”

Waylen chuckles at that.

“No, Ember,” he replies. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Ah, good.”

“What are you going to do now?” he asks.

“I’m getting out of Crystal River,” I reply.

“Oh?”

“I’ve actually got my bag here and everything. I’ve checked out of the motel. I’ll head from here to the last coach of the day now and go overnight back to the city. Back to home.”

Waylen regards me with his piercing stare.

“You should stay the night here,” he says.

“Pardon?”

“No need to stress yourself running around and getting some overnight coach. Stay the night here, Ember.”

“I should get back to work in the city as soon as I can,” I reply. “I’m sure I’m needed at the office tomorrow morning. My editor is already on my ass for my next project.”

“I’ll get you on the private helicopter to take you back to the city in the morning,” Waylen explains nonchalantly. “It’ll beat the coach and will be a hell of a lot more comfortable.”

“What? The helicopter?”

“Yes, my helicopter. I’ll inform the pilot now.”

“I can’t...”

Waylen lifts up a hand to silence me.

“I will not sit here and waste my time with your protests, Ember. You’re getting on that flight. Now, go ahead. Head downstairs and speak to the butler and relay what I’ve told you. He’ll put you in one of the guest rooms. I’m expecting this is the last time we’ll see each other. Unless you fuck up, of course. I pray that won’t happen.”

I open and close my mouth like a goldfish, but I finally say something.

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