Page 79 of Controlled Burn
“Hey,” Kennedy said, keeping her voice low. “Ignore the looks. This place always eats its own for breakfast, but it forgets by lunch. You keep showing up. That’s all you can do.”
Talia risked a glance at her, her throat thick. “You don’t know—”
Kennedy shook her head, a sweet smile flickering across her face. “Doesn’t matter what I know. You’re here. You’re still standing. That’s more than most.”
Talia wanted to say thank you, but the words stuck. She nodded instead, a silent thread of gratitude running between them.
Just then, as Kennedy walked away, Lt. McKenna appeared—clipboard in hand, eyes sharp but unreadable. She scanned the bay, then paused beside Talia, voice low enough for only her to hear.
“Morning, Cross.” There was a pause—businesslike, but then she softened. “Listen. People have short memories in this job. Take it from me. You keep your head down, do your work, and one day soon, someone else will be the headline.”
Her gaze lingered—a flicker of something like pride, or memory, or warning. “You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. Stand tall. It passes.”
She gave Talia a nod and moved on, already calling out something about the training schedule as if nothing had happened. But Talia felt a tiny bit lighter. Just a thread, but it held.
“Besides,” Kennedy added in passing, almost a whisper, “I’ve never seen anyone here burn out quietly. You’re not done, Cross. Not by a long shot.”
And just like that, her spine straightened. Maybe she was fraying, but she wasn’t broken.
Maddox
He didn’t remember leaving the office, just the shock of fluorescent light in the apparatus bay and the anger drumming through his skull.
Jake was there—clipboard in hand, whistling, acting like he hadn’t set a match to Dean’s entire life.
Dean didn’t pause. He slapped the clipboard out of Jake’s hand so hard it skidded across the floor.
Jake recoiled. “What the hell—”
“You know what the hell.” Dean’s voice was razor-sharp. “You filmed it.”
Jake didn’t deny it. He just stared at the ground, color draining from his face. “It wasn’t meant to get out.”
Dean stepped in, close enough to see his fury reflected in Jake’s eyes. “But it did. You humiliated her. Now someone’s leaving threats?”
Jake raised his hands. “I didn’t give it to anyone. I swear. Ryan saw it—he lost it—but I never showed anyone else. Shit got out of hand.”
Dean’s fists clenched. “You think this is some joke? You could ruin her. Do you get that?”
Jake swallowed, shrinking back. “She’s not the victim here, man. She wanted it.”
Dean slammed his fist into the locker, the metal ringing like a bell. Jake flinched.
“Get out of my sight,” Dean snarled. “Before I remind you how rank works.”
Jake didn’t argue—just backed away, silent.
Dean stood there, fists trembling, breath ragged, staring at the dent in the locker.
He couldn’t go back to the office. Couldn’t face the looks. Couldn’t shake the image of Talia’s bruised throat, her parted lips in that blurry memory, the whole station whispering behind their hands.
So he took the only way out: up the stairs, boots echoing like gunfire, heart breaking and furious all at once.
Chapter 29
Hard to Swallow
Talia had peeled off her soaked bunker coat and fire-resistant pants in the laundry room, tossing them into the washer to dry. In their place, she’d pulled on a black tank top and leggings—the only dry clothes she’d brought for post-shift laundry duty.
