Page 139 of Controlled Burn
Talia just wiped her mouth, nodded once.
No words. Just war.
Jake
By mid-morning, Jake was gone.
But it wasn't a clean break.
It started with a slammed locker—metal clanging so loud it silenced the entire hallway. Then muttered accusations in the kitchen. Then a shattered coffee pot. Then, there was a screaming match with King, who walked away with a bloody lip and fire in his eyes.
Jake didn't deny it. He ranted. He raved.
"She's turning everyone against me!" he shouted at anyone who'd listen. "You don't get it—this is all her game!"
The more he yelled, the quieter the firehouse grew.
He cornered Talia by the comms room, eyes glassy, spitting venomous words. "You think you can use me? Pretend like it never happened? You're not who you pretend to be."
Her stare didn't waver. That only made him louder.
"She's feeding you all lies! Maddox, King, all of you—you're too blind to see it!"
It was the cameras that did him in.
When he tried to rip the one outside the kitchen off the wall, McKenna stepped in—firm, calm, folder already in hand.
She handed it to him. His access logs. His messages. His trail.
He didn't read it.
He just stood there for a second, chest heaving, breathing like an animal in a trap.
Then he slung his bag over his shoulder and left.
But not before turning back to Talia in front of the whole room, voice hoarse, eyes wild.
"You'll regret this. You're not untouchable."
He meant it as a threat. She took it as a compliment.
Outside, Jake climbed into his truck. The engine idled, headlights glaring against the bay doors. He gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles went bloodless, his chest heaving as he stared into the rearview. The station glowed in the mirror—her shadow still inside it. He didn't put the truck in gear for a long time.
Talia
The locker room reeked of sweat and ash. Talia peeled off her sweat-drenched shirt. Her arms ached from the weight of the line. Her gear bag sagged beside her bench, silent and heavy.
She'd dragged Watts through the smoke, taken point, and pushed past the heat, flame, and fear.
She should feel proud.
Instead, the whole building felt as though it was being watched.
The silence wasn't calm. It was a held breath. The kind that came before an aftershock.
She didn't breathe.
Ghosts didn't stay gone. They waited in corners and listened for weakness.
