Page 131 of Controlled Burn
She sat in the locker room, elbow propped on her knee, phone balanced in her palm. Brooks’s last message glared upat her—no ransom, no demand. Just that quiet, persistent reminder:you’re constantly being seen.
He didn’t want silence. He wanted ownership. Not with violence, but with documentation. He wanted her leashed, always twitching beneath the lens.
Good.
Because now she knew his rhythm. Now she could plan the fire.
She stood, stretched her spine, and left the locker room with her head high, boots echoing like gunshots in the tiled hallway. Her reflection flickered in the glass panel—hair loose, jaw sharp, the faintest cut of a smile ghosting her lips.
Tonight. My terms.
Jake made it easy.
He was waiting in the hallway between the turnout room and dorms, just like she knew he would be. Posture lazy. Smirk crooked. Arms folded like a boy trying to look like a man. That same needle grin that used to dig under her skin like glass.
“Been missing me?” he asked, trying to sound bored. But his voice wavered.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She let the silence breathe—let him twitch in it. Then leaned in, voice low, dark as burnt sugar. “You still watching?”
His eyebrows flicked. “What?”
“You said you liked watching. Maybe you want a second round.”
She saw it then—the hunger. The twitch in his jaw. The flare in his nostrils. Pathetic.
“You serious?”
“I’ll be in the turnout room after lights out,” she said, velvet wrapped around a blade. “If you can keep your mouth shut and follow orders.”
His breath caught. That was all she needed.
She turned on her heel, hips loose and unapologetic, walking away with the kind of deliberate sway that was bait, not invitation.
Hook set.
Later, in the engine bay, McKenna caught her alone. Arms folded. Eyes sharp as searchlights.
“You’re wound tight,” McKenna said.
Talia shrugged. “We’ve all been tight lately.”
McKenna didn’t smile. “Just make sure you’re the one holding the lighter.”
Talia tilted her head. “You ever play chess?”
McKenna’s mouth curved, half-grin. “Queen moves in every direction.”
“Exactly.”
McKenna’s gaze lingered, sharp and knowing. “Don’t get burned.
Night fell.
Talia took her time changing. Deliberate. She stood before the mirror, studying herself under the harsh fluorescents.
No paint. No costume. Black tank top. No bra. Joggers low on her hips. Boots laced just enough to move fast.
Not pretty. Not polished. Not for him.
