Page 22 of Controlled Burn
“You escalated it.”
“I told the truth.”
That shut him up.
He ran a hand down his stubble-rough jaw, tension pulling across the lines of his face. Broad shoulders shifted as he moved behind the desk—but he didn’t sit. He needed the barrier. The wood. The distance. His 6’4” frame felt too big for the room, too tightly coiled.
“I should write you both up.”
“Then do it.”
No apology. No plea. Just a soldier awaiting orders.
“You’re better than this,” he said quietly. “Smarter.”
Her voice cracked. “I’m tired, Captain.”
He looked up.
“I’m tired of carrying people who can’t do the job,” she said, quieter now. “Tired of pretending we’re all equal when we’re not. Watts is dangerous. She freezes. She lies. She blames. And we act like that’s okay because she’s fragile and angry and has HR on speed dial.”
His throat tightened.
She wasn’t wrong. But politics were real. Watts was protected—a walking liability wrapped in buzzwords and fear.
“I’ve tried to be fair,” she added, voice shaking. “But she made me look reckless in front of a physician. She jeopardized my career to save face. Then she abandoned me in a fire.”
This wasn’t just rage. This was hurt. Disillusionment. The slow kind that corrodes everything.
He stepped to the side of the desk—not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel her heat. She smelled like defiance and danger and something he’d never admit.
How could someone smell like heaven and a five-alarm fire at the same time?
“You did the right thing on that call,” he said softly.
Her eyes lifted, surprised.
“I reviewed the report. The dose was appropriate. Vitals stabilized. No adverse reaction.”
Her eyes shimmered. “Then why does it still feel like I’m the one under the microscope?”
Because you’re beautiful, he thought, because you don’t shrink. Because they hate what they can’t control. And because I want you.
He said none of it.
“You can’t give them ammo,” he said instead. “Not even once. You want to lead? Start acting like it.”
She nodded. “Understood.”
But before she turned to go, she hesitated.
“You told me I’d ruin you,” she said quietly. “But this job—it’s already trying to ruin me.”
Then she opened the door and walked out.
Leaving him hollow. Strung out. Utterly consumed. He felt like an empty hydrant—pressure building inside with nowhere to go.
Chapter 10
