Page 136 of Controlled Burn
The silence wasn't calm. It was a held breath. The kind that came before an aftershock.
She didn't breathe.
Ghosts didn't stay gone.
They waited in corners and listened for weakness.
The rec room was still.
Talia sat alone, water bottle sweating in her hands, hair damp and clinging to her collarbone.
The trap had worked.
Brooks had accessed the dummy server just like they'd baited. The fake footage landed in Jake's inbox. The rage came next. Then the unraveling.
Jake was suspended.
But not gone.
She knew better. He wasn't the kind of man who just disappeared. Not when he thought he was right.
Unless Brooks got to him first.
The door opened behind her.
Dean.
He looked like hell—eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched, tension rolling off him like steam. The line between him and collapse was wearing thin.
He poured a glass of water. His hand shook.
“I heard about Jake,” he said.
Talia didn't answer right away. “It was time.”
Dean's throat bobbed. “I should’ve seen the signs.”
“You weren't the one whispering in his ear.”
“No,” he rasped. “I was too busy trying not to touch you.”
Talia stepped closer, slow and sure.
Dropped to her knees.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“I’m not breaking,” she said.
“I am.”
“No,” she whispered. “You're bending. There's a difference.”
Dean's breath caught.
She placed her hands on his thighs. “If you need to break something—break me.”
