Page 162 of Controlled Burn
The worst part wasn’t the divorce. Or the suspension.
It was missing her.
Talia.
Her laugh was rough and reckless. Her fire. The way she looked at him—like he was a man worth something. Like she saw him.
And now she was the one left cleaning up the wreckage he’d caused.
He’d left her.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he had no choice.
But choices didn’t matter. Only consequences.
A couple at the other end of the bar laughed, heads tipped close, hands brushing on the counter. Dean swallowed hard. For half a second, he imagined Talia there instead—grinning at him through the smoke and neon, daring him to ruin her lipstick again.
The fantasy hurt more than the drink.
He ordered another and tried to forget her.
But all he could taste was her name on his tongue.
McKenna
From the second-floor landing, McKenna watched Talia pace the bay—her stride sharp, face set in lines too hard for someone her age.
She’s running on fumes.
Still standing. Still burning.
But McKenna saw the threats.
Brooks, lurking in shadows. Jake, unraveling—his obsession turning in on itself.
Brooks was quieter, more deliberate. Dangerous.
She texted IT:Flag Brooks’s workstation. Check for remote access tools.
He’d been wiping metadata. That meant he was covering tracks he hadn’t even laid yet.
This wasn’t about fires anymore.
This was war.
And Talia needed backup.
McKenna would make damn sure she had it.
Maddox
He found himself parked outside Station 12 at 2:04 a.m., rain hammering the windshield until the world blurred into streaks of light.
He didn’t remember driving.
Didn’t remember buying the gas station bouquet or the bottle of whiskey on the passenger seat.
