Page 6 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
Then there’s Nicole. Quiet, efficient, always one step ahead of instructions. The kind who hands you the tool you need before you ask. She’s a pleaser, and that worries me—people like her will burn themselves out before they ask for help.
They’re all green, but they’ve got potential. Together, they’re a rough draft of something solid. But it’s Sera who throws off the curve. She doesn’t defer. Doesn’t ask what’s next. She moves like someone who already knows.
Which means she’s either got real training—or she’s hiding something.
The others haven’t picked up on it yet. They just see the quiet girl who doesn’t complain and keeps up.
But I see the gaps.
And I’ve learned the hard way—It’s the quiet ones who carry the loudest secrets.
I’m halfway through rehydrating and scanning the next drill schedule when Greene’s voice barks from the bay doors. “Benson. Office. Now.”
His tone is all gravel and grit, like he gargled a sandstorm before coffee.
I dismiss the greenhorns for the day and toss my clipboard on the bench. I follow the Captain into his office. He doesn’t look at me right away, just sinks into the squeaky chair behind his desk and gestures for me to shut the door.
The air shifts the second I do.
He pulls a file from the stack beside him and taps it with two fingers. “We’ve got a problem.”
I stay standing. “What kind?” My internal guilt always weighs on me in these moments.
“Pattern recognition kind.” He opens the file. Maps, crime scene photos, thermal imaging from the wildfires. The air smells faintly of char, even though it’s just paper.
He points to six marked locations, spread like a twisted constellation across the Bitterroot region. “Every single one of the fires from the past six months. Same ignition pattern. Same residue. And—” he flips a photo toward me “—every one of them had at least one corpse...we think. They're still testing the ash samples for DNA.”
I narrow my eyes. “Murder victims or just people caught in the burn?”
Greene leans back, face hard. “One or two, maybe the wrong place, wrong time. Six different fires with burned bodies. We’d be foolish to discount homicide as the motive behind the fires.”
He lets the silence stretch, jaw working like he’s grinding down the words before speaking.
“The sheriff’s trying to keep this quiet. No panic. But I heard whispers this morning that the Feds might take interest if we don’t get ahead of it.”
My jaw tightens. “Let me guess—still no suspects?”
“None that hold up. But with the body count adding up, I think we can assume this is more than just an arsonist. Keep your ears open,” Greene says. “And keep your rookies closer. Especially the small one.”
I blink. “Sera?”
“She’s green but sharp. Too sharp.” He fixes me with a look. “Remind you of anyone?”
I grunt. The ghost of a younger me flickers in his stare. Lone wolf. No leash. No backup. Too sharp for my own good. “I’ll keep an eye,” I affirm.
Greene nods once. “Dismissed.”
I leave the office with a dozen new questions and a pit in my gut the size of a flare pack.
Back at the bay window, I watch the probies drifting north alongside the road.
Except one.
Sera.
She’s heading straight for the woods in the opposite direction.
Not the path to the rookies’ dorms where the firefighters stay when they’re off duty or in training. Not the parking lot. The forest line.
