Page 180 of Controlled Burn
A photo near the center caught her eye—middle school, braces, a plastic tiara on her head at some birthday party she barely remembered. Beside it: a photo from just weeks ago. Bent over a rig. Hair damp. Lips parted. Unaware.
She thought she'd feel relief. But all she felt was rage—that no one had stopped him sooner. That no one had seen her.
She exhaled hard. "What the fuck."
McKenna came to stand beside her.
"He's a goddamn psycho," Talia muttered. "A perv with a badge and a backup plan."
McKenna nodded, quiet for a beat. "You okay?"
Talia didn't take her eyes off the wall. "No. But I'm not scared anymore."
McKenna's voice was calm. "He thought he was the fire."
Talia's eyes burned as she turned from the wall. "But he was just the fuel."
She stepped back into the night, letting the shadows swallow the bunker behind her. A place built for obsession and now reduced to evidence.
Later, alone in the station shower, she scrubbed her skin until it burned. Steam blurred the mirror. Drops traced her reflection until her face vanished in the fog.
He thought he could burn her down from the inside.
He forgot—
She was the fucking fire.
Chapter 61
Ashes
Talia
The station was too quiet.
After the chaos—cops, FBI, the hiss of radios and cameras snapping like firecrackers—this silence felt wrong. It was the silence after a burn, when the smoke cleared but the smell lingered, when the air still shimmered with heat though the flames were gone.
Talia walked through the empty bay, past the dark rig stalls and the engine Brooks used to park like he owned it. Her fingers grazed the cinderblock wall, grounding herself in something real.
Her skin still felt electric. Her throat dry. She hadn’t cried—not yet—but it was there, just under the surface. He thought hewas the fire. But he was only the fuel. And now all that was left was ash.
The bunkroom door was cracked. Dim light spilled out.
She pushed it open.
Dean sat on the edge of the lower bunk, in plain clothes—black jeans, gray t-shirt, elbows on his knees, head bowed like something in him had finally cracked. He looked smaller like this. Not the captain, not the fighter. Just a man, stripped of his armor, haunted.
She paused in the doorway.
He looked up.
“I followed you back,” he said, voice low. “After the scene cleared. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Talia stepped inside. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.” He stood slowly. “I just… I couldn’t leave it like that. Not with you.”
She crossed her arms, suddenly colder than before. “You’re suspended. HR’s circling. Rachel’s probably waiting to skin you alive.”
