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I need to forget Alexa Laine ever existed.

Deacon cuts into my thoughts. “How’s Lex, man? Did you figure out what her weird texts were about?”

Did I ever.“Yeah, she was high as a fucking kite when I got home yesterday. I took care of her sick, paranoid ass all night. When I dropped her off at Cam’s this morning, I told her I didn’t want to see her again, not that it matters much anyway. She's leaving in two days.”

“Really? Dude, that sucks. I’m sorry,” Deacon replies, sincerity in his tone.

“Yeah, me, too. She was cool, but I don’t want that shit anywhere near me. I had to be around it my whole life, so not gonna be around it now.”

“I don’t blame you,” he agrees.

“Hell no. You had to let that one go. That bitch has issues, and believe me, I know all about bitches with issues,” Pauly interjects.

“Seriously, Pauly?” Deacon shakes his head with an amused expression. “Maybe if you stopped calling Victoria a bitch, you two would have less issues.”

“Nah, she knows I love her. We’re good.”

I force a laugh, not that I find Pauly and Victoria drama funny this morning. But it is familiar, and that’s what I need—to go back to how it was. Before her.

Tiny walks into the common area, followed by Stokes, just as the siren goes off.

“Damn! I didn’t even get a cup of coffee!” Stokes complains as we jog to the garage to suit up.

“You okay to drive?” I ask, the question rhetorical.

Stokes jogs beside me. “You know I’m always okay to drive.”

We suit up and board our beautiful Benny. I slap the bear emblem on the side of the truck for good luck before jumping into the truck. “Let’s head out.”

The truck is followed by Captain’s SUV, our Ambulance 21, and Squad Engine 6.

The city buildings pass by in a blur, and I’m reminded of how much I love Chicago. I am so proud to be a lieutenant for the CFD. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.

We pull up to the abandoned warehouse. Sounds of falling metal and breaking glass fill the space as flames dance across the massive building.

“What do you think?” I ask Cap.

“Abandoned building. Shouldn’t be anybody inside, and that smoke is turning black,” he says, putting on his helmet.

“Could be squatters? Homeless?” I offer, knowing it’s more than likely. There aren’t too many abandoned buildings in the city that don’t house people.

Cap nods. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Listen, take the guys. Do a quick sweep and get out. By the look of that smoke, you don’t have much time.”

“Alright.” I turn to the guys. “You heard him, men. Let’s spread out, check for civilians. In and out.”

“Got it, Boss.”

“On it.”

The men acknowledge the command. We secure our masks and head toward the burning building. “Pair up,” I yell. “Stokes, you’re with me.”

We enter the building to a massive open floor plan. I’m assuming at one point this was a working factory that has now since had most of the equipment removed. There are remnants of a place of business. Shelves, desks, and garbage burn throughout the space in massive bonfires.

Passing an enormous pile of flaming material, I’m grateful, as always, for my turnout jacket—also known as bunker gear—and the two-thousand-degree Fahrenheit heat it can handle.

“Firefighters, call out!” I yell through my mask.

The same phrase echoes throughout the various corners of the factory as the men look for victims.

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