Page 193 of Controlled Burn
“Coffee’s shit,” she said.
Talia smirked. “That’s how I like my problems.”
The crew laughed. It didn’t feel forced.
She took a sip. Let it burn.
Dean hadn’t taken the fire when he left.
He’d just lit the match.
She was the one who kept it burning.
At 3 a.m., she padded barefoot into the watch office. Quiet. No tones. No chatter. Just the hum of a building settling into its bones.
She sat at the desk, coffee in hand, steam curling in the dark.
This was the reckoning hour.
The hour you either braced for dawn or unraveled.
She let herself feel it all—the bruises, the ghosts, the victories.
The way she’d begged him to ruin her.
The way she’d saved him.
The way she left—on her own terms.
She let her head fall back. Let the quiet hold her.
Let the fire settle behind her ribs—
Slow. Steady.
She was alone.
But not empty.
Because somewhere, in the city’s dark belly, another match waited. Another reckoning.
A new story, already itching to ignite.
And when it did, she’d be ready.
Because she wasn’t just the fire anymore.
She was the one who kept it burning.
Chapter 66
Choose Me Anyway
The briefing room smelled like burnt coffee and laminated paper.
Talia’s fingers tapped a steady staccato against her thigh as the battalion chief outlined the multi-jurisdictional drill: burn-tower evolutions, vent-enter-search tactics, low-angle rope work. Routine. But the charge in her chest wasn’t.
Not nerves. Not fear.
