Page 169 of Controlled Burn
Back in high school, he was king. Golden boy. Quarterback. Every girl wanted him. Every guy wanted to be him.
Now he was a ghost. Haunted by the one girl who never wanted him enough.
He didn't know what scared him more—what he almost did, or how good it would've felt to stop pretending he was the victim.
"You think you're fire?" he spat at Talia, voice low. "You're nothing but smoke."
Nobody moved.
He took one last step forward, helmet in hand, then let it fall at her feet with a hollow, metallic thud. The sound echoed across the bay, sharp and final.
"This place deserves to burn."
HR closed in on either side.
Jake bared his teeth, voice climbing.
"THIS IS BULLSHIT! YOU'RE ALL JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE SHE PICKED ME FIRST!"
Brent coughed, hiding a laugh. Reyes muttered, "Bro's having a full Bravo meltdown."
Talia didn't blink.
He followed HR out, his world shrinking with every step.
Kennedy
She stood in the corner, just out of sight, pressed flat against the cool cinderblock. She heard the thud of Jake's helmet, the crack of his voice, and the quiet, mean laughter from Brent and Reyes.
Her stomach twisted.
Part of her wanted to hate him—wanted to never think of him again.
But a smaller, darker part still craved the way he made her feel. Seen. Wanted. Special.
She pressed her fist to her chest, feeling her heartbeat like a bruise. Tears pricked her eyes.
She ducked into the supply closet and let herself sink to the floor, breathing him out of her lungs, pressing her forehead to her knees.
But even in the dark, she couldn’t shake the thought that there were eyes on her. Cameras in corners. A lens catching her shame. Brooks had been watching before. What if he still was?
She wasn’t Talia. She didn’t command rooms—she disappeared into corners.
But God, she didn't want to disappear either.
She prayed, not for forgiveness, but for silence. For stillness. For the memory of his hands to finally fade.
Talia
She sat in McKenna's office, door shut, blinds drawn tight against the world.
McKenna handed her a steaming mug of black coffee. The heat bled into her palms, grounding her.
"You alright?" McKenna asked, eyes sharp, voice gentle.
Talia took a slow, measured breath. "No. But I'm getting there."
McKenna leaned against the desk. "Jake was a symptom. Not the source."
