Page 137 of Controlled Burn
He didn't speak.
He kissed her like an answer.
Rough. Desperate. Unforgiving.
He pulled her up, shoved her hard against the wall, tore at her waistband like he was drowning, and she was the only way to breathe.
She arched into him. Bit his shoulder. Moaned into his mouth.
He buried himself deep, and for a moment, she felt everything splinter.
And she welcomed it.
After, they sat against the lockers, wrecked and silent
Dean finally said, “I'm sorry.”
Talia leaned her head on his bare shoulder.
“No, you're not.”
Neither was she.
***
Across town, Brooks sat at his desk, sweating.
He didn't like how fast things were changing.
Jake was off the floor. Maddox was still upright. Talia… Talia was playing too well.
He clicked on a file labeled “Control Variables.”
Inside: dozens of stills. Locker room. McKenna's office. Talia's phone logs. Dean's eyes tracking her across the bay.
He needed a new variable.
A new pressure point.
***
McKenna found Talia wiping down a tool belt, her sleeves rolled up and her forearms streaked with grime.
“You good?” McKenna asked.
Talia nodded. “Better.”
“Dean?”
“Spiraling,” Talia said. “But still standing.”
“Good. We'll need him.”
McKenna handed over a file.
“Jake's access logs were too clean. The trail was practically gift-wrapped.”
Talia flipped through. Images. Network data. Time-stamped screenshots.
