Page 194 of Controlled Burn
Pre-ignition—the hush before the explosion.
“Each house will rotate through the tower and split into task assignments,” the chief said. “You’ll be paired with Portview and Bayside crews.”
She resisted looking up until she heard a voice she knew.
“Search team will ladder second floor. Entry on command.”
Her gaze lifted.
Dean.
Turnout pants, navy station shirt, helmet tucked under his arm. No bars. No command insignia. Just his name embroidered over his heart. His 6'4 frame stood out from the other men—broad, tan, warmer-looking than she remembered. His bicepsstrained against the sleeves of his shirt, bigger than before, like he’d buried himself in the gym to outrun the wreckage.
He didn’t look at her at first—but she felt the exact second his awareness snapped into focus. His voice faltered.
Then his eyes found hers. A spark—old and fierce—zinged between them.
Talia blinked first, turning away.
They ran the drill in strict rotation. She watched him from across the yard. He moved with deliberate care—ribs still healing, every motion measured. No orders barked. No sharp critique. A man stripped of rank, yet rooted in purpose.
When the final evolution ended, crews broke for cleanup. Talia slipped to the rig’s shaded side, leaned against the cool steel, and closed her eyes for a breath.
She didn’t expect his shadow to fall beside her.
But there he was.
Dean
He spotted her against the ladder truck, silhouette backlit by morning sun.
“You were fast on the ladder,” he said, voice rough with ash and regret.
“I’m always fast,” she replied without lifting her gaze.
He ran a hand over his buzzed jaw. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
She turned slowly. Sunlight caught the smirk tugging at her mouth. “Didn’t expect you to still wear gear.”
“They put me back on the floor. No bars. No command.”
“You okay with that?”
His shoulders slipped down on the exhale. “Didn’t fight it. Felt… right.”
A pause.
“So, what now?” she asked. “You drop a line of something poetic, then walk away?”
He shook his head, gaze steady. “We used to speak in fire. Now all that’s left is smoke.”
Talia
She stepped closer, boots scraping concrete. Her skin still hummed from adrenaline. Soot clung to her knuckles.
“I didn’t come looking for you,” she said.
“I know,” he replied.
