Page 9 of Controlled Burn
"You forget again, and you're out of the rig before we even hit the street. You get me?"
Watts blinked like she didn't expect the tone. Then nodded.
Good.
Talia wasn't going to be the reason something went wrong.
The call came in at 11:38 a.m.
Structure fire. Residential. Possible entrapment.
Talia's pulse jumped.
Controlled chaos exploded through the station—gear flying, boots slamming, adrenaline hitting like a second skin.
She climbed into the officer's seat and grabbed the MDC, barking out route details, checking hydrants, and planning first-in attack while her mind mapped the layout from the dispatch notes.
Watts was silent in the back.
Too silent.
The house was already vomiting thick, black smoke when they pulled up. Flames curled from a second-story window, bright and alive.
First-due engine.
Talia turned, voice sharp. "Watts, you're with me. We're going in for a fire attack."
Watts hesitated. "I—I think we should wait for backup."
"You are backup. Let's go."
They forced the door. Smoke poured into their gear like water. Talia swept left, calling out, flashlight cutting through the dark.
She pushed deeper into the house and realized something.
Watts wasn't behind her. She wasn't pulling the hose line.
Talia spun, heart thudding.
"Watts?" she shouted. "Watts!"
No response.
No beam of light. No movement. No backup.
She was alone.
The silence punched through her chest like a fist.
Not again. Not fucking again.
Her voice cracked as she called out again, breath tight, adrenaline now laced with something colder. Regret. Rage.
Then—a heavy hand on her shoulder.
She whirled.
Maddox.
