Page 135 of Controlled Burn
“Back out!” she shouted, dropping low.
King yanked Watts flat. Maddox pivoted, shielding the exit with a wide spray. Talia hit the floor, dragging the line, crawling toward the breach.
They made it out. Barely.
On the street, she yanked her mask off last. Her face was soaked in sweat, skin flushed and shaking from the heat. She bent forward, elbows on knees, head swimming from exertion—not smoke.
Watts crumpled to the curb, crying.
Talia didn’t hate her. She just didn’t have time to carry passengers anymore.
McKenna crouched beside her, calm and clinical. But when she looked up at Talia over Watts’ slumped form, her eyes were made of steel.
Talia just nodded.
No words.
Just war.
***
By mid-morning, Jake was gone.
But it wasn't a clean break.
He spiraled first.
It started with a slammed locker. Then muttered accusations in the hallway. Then a broken cabinet door and a screaming match with King, who walked away with a bloody lip and a fire in his eyes.
Jake didn't deny it.
He ranted. Raved. Cornered Talia by the comms room, eyes wild, spitting about how “she was turning people against him” and “he knew what this was.”
It was the cameras that did him in.
When he tried to rip the one outside the kitchen off the wall, McKenna stepped in—firm and calm—and handed him the folder.
He didn't read it.
He just stood there for a second, breathing like an animal in a trap.
Then he slung his bag over his shoulder and left.
But not before turning to Talia and saying, “You're not who you pretend to be.”
He meant it as a threat.
But she took it as a compliment.
***
The locker room reeked of sweat and ash. Talia peeled off her sweat-drenched shirt. Her arms ached from the weight of the line. Her gear bag sagged beside her bench, silent and heavy.
She'd dragged Watts through the smoke, taken point, and pushed past the heat, flame, and fear.
She should feel proud.
Instead, the whole building felt as though it was being watched.
