Page 6 of Controlled Burn
Maddox met his eyes, flat and unflinching, the scent of burnt coffee seeping under the door. “Keep it professional. She’s a firefighter, not entertainment.”
Reyes raised his palms, but his grin was all teeth. “Hey, I like her. Girl’s got more bite than anyone here. She cracked a joke about stroking a hose line—Hastings nearly choked.”
A muscle twitched in Maddox’s jaw. “She rides with you now.”
He waited for Reyes to push back—another joke, another crack about rookies who set the place on fire. But Reyes just shrugged, all swagger, and left with a parting smirk. The station was never quiet, but now it felt deafening—radios spitting static, boot heels echoing down concrete. Maddox’s pulse was the loudest thing in the room.
***
Talia found out the way she always did—secondhand, too late, never the hero in her own story.
After the lineup, Reyes flagged her over, helmet glinting in the morning sun, sweat already darkening his collar. “You’re with me today. Maddox made the switch.”
Her chest seized, sharp and cold—like the slap of AC after a hard run. “Excuse me?”
He smirked. “He said it was time someone else handled your sparkling personality.”
Across the bay, Maddox didn’t even look up. He paged through the gear reports, his calloused fingers moving like he was just another name on a list. If he had any thoughts about what he’d just done, they were locked down tight.
Talia shoved her pride down and climbed into the back of Engine 12. The cab felt too small—packed with Reyes, West, and the tension no one dared name. Sweat stuck her shirt to her spine, bunker pants rough against her thighs.
“Don’t worry, rookie,” Brent said from the front seat, voice pitched just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Reyes only bites if you insult his playlist.
The radio spat static, and someone’s half-laugh filled the space, the kind that never reached their eyes. Hastings picked at a rip in his gloves. Talia grinned, brittle, gaze drifting to the windshield. Beyond the rigs, Maddox’s silhouette was nothing but a shadow—motionless, unreadable.
Reyes flicked a glance back at her. “Hope you can handle the engine, Cross. Don’t want you breaking down on my watch.”
She let the jab pass, lips curling with just enough defiance to hide the way her heart rattled. This was the price of survival here: a smile, a joke, a punchline that never left a bruise but always left a mark.
The ride out was quiet. Too quiet. She watched the world blur past—sun burning off dew, city already thrumming with heat and promise and the threat of something that might break loose.
***
She cornered Maddox later in the stairwell, the metal steps radiating leftover heat, the air thick with the scent of soap, old sweat, and the tang of steel. Her heart thudded, skin tacky, braid damp against her neck.
Close now, she could see the sharp line of his jaw, the tension in his neck, how his biceps strained under the sleeves he always kept rolled just above the elbow. Everything about him was tightly wound and quietly dangerous.
“You pawned me off like a problem child?” Her voice scraped raw across the cinderblock, softer than she meant but twice as dangerous.
He didn’t look up. His pen scratched, deliberate and dismissive. “You’re on the engine. It’s not a demotion.”
She stepped closer, boots grinding on steel. “It’s a message.”
He looked up, slow and cold—eyes all warning, face shadowed in flickering light. “You don’t get to question my decisions.”
Her voice turned sharp, soft, but edged. “You’re just pissed you couldn’t write me up over a pair of shorts.”
His jaw flexed, mouth a thin white line.
“You think that’s it?”
She closed the space, heat from his body blurring her thoughts. “I make you uncomfortable. You’re too much of a coward to admit it.”
His voice was a growl, barely leashed. “You don’t know what I am.”
She didn’t flinch. “Then show me.”
Electricity crackled, air between them so tight it made her chest ache. Somewhere down the hall, a locker banged. Maddox jerked back—too quick, like he’d been caught in a current.
