Page 7 of Controlled Burn
“You’re dismissed, Cross.”
She straightened, eyes glittering. “Not a no.”
Talia walked away, stride full of bravado, but inside her ribs something wild fluttered—regret, maybe, or hope. The stairs creaked under her boots, her hand trembling on the rail. She wondered if she’d regret this later, or if she already did.
***
Maddox stood rooted in place, clipboard loose in his grip, heart pounding until his ears rang. The ghost of Chanel and smoke lingered—her scent burned into the air.
He slammed his office door, leaned into the desk, knuckles white. One. Two. Three. The tension in his chest only coiled tighter, his uniform suddenly suffocating.
She’d smiled—like she saw straight through him. It rattled something old and hungry beneath the armor he wore for the world.
He yanked open her personnel file, flipped to her photo: blue eyes, lifted chin, defiance in every line. She wasn’t made to follow orders. She was made to burn. And he was already in the flames.
He slammed the folder shut. This was more than dangerous. It was lethal. And she had no idea what it would cost if he stopped pretending.
His phone buzzed—another group text, drills, and overtime, white noise he ignored. Closed his eyes.
Then show me.
Her words echoed—a dare, a promise.
God help them both—he wanted to.
He’d never let himself cross the line before. Never allowed anyone to get close enough to see where the cracks ran deep. But Talia Cross made him want to. Made him forget there were lines at all.
***
That night, he punished himself in the gym—sprints, iron, sweat streaking down his back. He ran until his lungs screamed, muscles burning with something that felt like penance. But herghost stuck with him: blue eyes, a braid swinging like a whip, lip gloss bitten off from some unspoken dare. Her laughter, sharp as glass, rang in his ears even as the weights clanged around him.
He lifted, pushed, ran—trying to chase her ghost out of his head. It didn’t work. It never did.
You’re her superior. You can’t even want her.
And yet—she was the only thing that made him feel alive.
Back at the rig, the night crept in hot and restless. Reyes tossed her a water bottle, eyes knowing. “Careful, Cross. Keep staring like that, and people’ll think you miss the captain.
She didn’t answer. She drank slowly, letting the cold sting her tongue, feeling it slide down into the ache that Maddox left behind. Her pulse thudded in her wrists, heat prickling at the back of her neck.
The truth was worse than missing him. She wanted him to chase her. And that, she knew, would get them both burned.
After roll call, when the lights were low and laughter was quieter, she found herself looking for his shadow at the end of every corridor. She told herself it was for her protection—just another way to anticipate the rules. But she knew better. It was hunger, pure and simple.
When she finally lay on her bunk, muscles sore and skin tight with dried sweat, her mind drifted back to the stairwell—to the heat, the almost, the words that lived in the space between want and ruin. She wondered if he was thinking of her, too. Suppose he could taste her in the air. If he’d ever let himself cross that line.
Talia closed her eyes, breath caught between hope and warning. In Station 12, every spark could start a fire.
And this one was already burning.
Chapter 4
Hazard Pay
Talia stood at the edge of the apparatus bay, hands tucked behind her back, eyes locked on the engine roster.
Her name was scribbled under Engine 12 – Riding Officer Seat.
