Page 128 of Controlled Burn
Smoke clawed at her throat before the mask sealed. Heat curled around her ribs, threatening to crack her open. She dropped to her knees, crawling low. Sweat soaked her back, mixing with soot and adrenaline. Every sense was wired for survival—searching for movement, breath, anything at all.
“King—line. McKenna, go vent. Watts, you’re with me.”
They breached the front door. Heat slammed into them like a wall.
Inside was chaos—blinding smoke, walls boiling, air thick and wrong. Talia crawled fast, scanning.
The floor flexed under her gloved hand, joists creaking.
“Come on, come on,” she whispered, voice drowned by her regulator.
“Right side clear—back room!”
King’s hoseline swept in, cutting the fire just enough.
Talia found the boy—probably around five—curled up behind a dresser. She scooped him up. His skin was hot; his breath was shallow. Her heart pounded hard enough to shake her gear.
Watts stood frozen in the hallway, mask fogged.
“Watts!” Talia bellowed. “Move your ass!”
Nothing.
“Get the fuck out of the way!”
That broke her.
Watts stumbled over the hose line as Talia passed, the boy cradled against her chest.
Outside, EMTs met her on the lawn. CPR started instantly.
Talia collapsed to her knees, panting.
The woman shrieked beside her. “Is he breathing? Please—oh God—”
Talia didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her throat was scorched raw, her brain full of static.
But under the chaos, another fear pulsed—not of fire or pain, but of exposure. One mistake, and the trap she’d built would snap shut on her instead.
She looked up. McKenna stood across the rig. Silent. Steady. She gave a slight nod before turning back to work.
Back at the station, Talia slowly stripped off her gear. Her shirt clung to her back. The shower hadn’t helped. Her skin was clean.
But inside? She was still burning.
Every glance in the hallway was a question. Did they know? Did they suspect? Had Brooks already made his move?
The bay was quiet. Watts had vanished the second they returned. No one asked why.
HR would eat that one alive.
Talia grabbed a protein bar from the kitchen and bit into it without tasting. Then went upstairs.
McKenna was in her office, tapping a stylus against the whiteboard. A dozen timestamps. Camera angles. Brooks’s name was written in red marker at the center like a cancer.
“He accessed the locker hallway feed at 4:12 a.m.,” McKenna said without looking up. “Again. He’s still watching every interaction you have. Especially the ones with King. With me.”
Talia leaned against the desk, arms crossed. “So he saw the last drop?”
