Page 148 of Controlled Burn
And power, finally, was his.
Talia
The turnout room was empty at dawn. Dim and cool, with the flicker of the hallway light stuttering overhead. She walked in slowly, boots echoing. Waited like a fuse waiting for flame.
Jake showed up.
No grin this time. No cocky swagger. Just sweat, dark circles, and the sour scent of regret clinging to his collar.
“You think you’re clever?” he rasped. “The footage. The USB. Baiting Brooks.”
Talia didn’t flinch. Just met his gaze.
“Maybe.”
“You played me.”
“You let yourself be played.”
His hand slammed into the locker beside her head, the metal ringing like a bell.
“You used me.”
“I used what I had.”
His jaw twitched. “You liked it. Being watched.”
Her voice dipped, razor-thin. “Did I?”
He was close. Close enough to touch. His breath reeked of stale coffee and desperation. But she didn’t move.
“You’re not special,” he spat. “Just another whore in turnout gear.”
She smiled—cold, quiet, lethal.
“And you’re just another weak man trying to crawl back into power through my skin.”
Jake’s breath hitched. His eyes flicked down—just once, just enough to betray himself.
“You can touch me,” she whispered. “And I’ll scream loud enough to end you.”
Or…
“You can beg.”
Silence snapped tight. His shoulders locked. His mouth opened, then closed. He stepped back, shaking his head like she’d just pulled the floor out from under him.
He laughed once—hollow, sharp.
“This isn’t over.”
“No,” she said, voice flat as steel. “It’s not.”
He left first. She stayed. The hallway light sputtered overhead.
And Talia breathed out. Slow. Controlled.
Talia (Later)
