Chapter 3

The fire was a roaring beast, consuming an old warehouse down by the docks. Black smoke billowed into the sky, thick and choking. The heat was intense, a physical wall pushing against us as we pulled up.

"Vance, you take point with team two! Search and rescue, west side entrance!" my captain, Johnson, yelled over the sirens.

"Copy that!" I shouted back, pulling on my helmet and grabbing my gear.

My team followed me without hesitation. We moved with practiced efficiency, a well-oiled machine built on trust and training. We breached the door and were immediately swallowed by smoke. Visibility was near zero. The air was thick with the smell of burning chemicals and wood.

"Fan out! Sound off every thirty seconds!" I commanded, my voice muffled by my respirator.

We moved through the dark, cavernous space, calling out, listening for any sign of life. The roar of the fire was deafening, a constant, hungry sound. A section of the ceiling groaned above us.

"Watch out!" I yelled, shoving one of my men, a rookie named Peters, out of the way just as a burning beam crashed down where he had been standing.

"Thanks, Vance!" he coughed out.

"Stay sharp!" I responded, my heart pounding.

We pushed deeper into the warehouse. Through a break in the smoke, I saw a flicker of movement. A figure was huddled under a workbench, trapped by fallen debris.

"I've got one!" I yelled into my radio. "Moving in!"

My team provided cover, dousing the nearby flames as I worked my way to the trapped worker. He was conscious but terrified, a deep gash on his forehead.

"We're going to get you out of here," I said, my voice calm and reassuring. "What's your name?"

"J-John," he stammered.

"Okay, John. We're right here with you."

We worked quickly, using the Jaws of Life to pry the heavy steel shelving off his legs. The whole time, I kept talking to him, keeping him focused, keeping the panic at bay.

Just as we freed him, I heard a familiar voice over the radio chatter.

"Command, this is Captain Hayes. Army rescue unit on site, ready to provide support."

My breath caught in my throat. Daniel. His unit was often called in for large-scale civilian emergencies.

"Copy that, Captain Hayes," Captain Johnson's voice crackled back. "We need support on the north wall. It's about to collapse."

"Understood. Moving now."

Even in the middle of a four-alarm fire, our paths had to cross. But there was no time for personal feelings. We had a job to do. We got John onto a stretcher and began the slow, careful process of carrying him out. As we neared the exit, I saw Daniel and his team working on the north wall, a seamless, professional unit. For a moment, our eyes met across the smoky expanse. There was a shared understanding, a professional respect that transcended everything else between us. He gave me a short, sharp nod. I nodded back.

Hours later, the fire was finally out. The sun was rising, casting a pale, hazy light over the blackened skeleton of the warehouse. I was exhausted, covered in soot and sweat, but a deep sense of satisfaction settled in my bones. We got everyone out. No casualties.

I was leaning against the side of our engine, taking a long drink of water, when Captain Johnson walked over. A piece of debris had caught my arm earlier, a nasty burn that was now throbbing painfully, but I barely noticed.

"Good work today, Vance," he said, his tired face breaking into a proud smile. "You've got a great career ahead of you in Linwood. They're lucky to have you."

"Thanks, Cap."

He sighed, looking out at the smoldering ruins. "You know, the chief told me why you put in for the transfer. Said you didn't want your... situation... to affect Captain Hayes's career."

I froze, the water bottle halfway to my lips.

"He said Hayes is up for a major promotion," Johnson continued, his voice soft. "And a messy public divorce from a firefighter in the same city... it wouldn't look good. You did a noble thing, Eleanor. Sacrificing your own happiness for his future."

My mind went blank. That wasn't the reason. I was leaving for myself, to save myself. I had no idea about a promotion. Was that what Daniel thought? That I was leaving to protect him? The bitter irony of it all was a punch to the gut.

I finally made it back to my apartment hours later. The smell of stale pastries still lingered in the air. The flour was still on the floor. I was too tired to clean it up. I just wanted a shower and a few hours of sleep before I had to hit the road.

I was peeling off my smoky jacket when I heard a key in the lock again. My heart sank.

Daniel walked in, looking just as exhausted as I felt. His uniform was stained with soot. He saw the burn on my arm and his face immediately filled with concern.

"You're hurt," he said, rushing toward me. He tried to take my arm, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Let me see. You need to put some ointment on that."

I pulled my arm away, the ghost of his touch sending a confusing jolt through me. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you're always saying you're fine when you're not," he insisted, his voice laced with a frustration that felt all too familiar. He started rummaging through my half-packed bathroom box, looking for the first-aid kit.

It was all so painfully ironic. He was here now, trying to take care of me, after a public, professional incident. But all those nights I had cried myself to sleep over his neglect, all those times I had been sick and alone because he was with Olivia... where was this concern then?

"Daniel," I said, my voice flat. "Did you get the papers my lawyer sent over?"

He stopped rummaging and stood up, his back to me. "What papers?"

"The divorce papers, Daniel. The final decree. It was messengered to your office yesterday."

He turned around slowly, a look of genuine confusion on his face. "I didn't get any papers, Eleanor. I was in a briefing all day yesterday. No one gave me anything."

A cold feeling started to creep up my spine. He was a captain. Important documents didn't just go missing at his command post. Unless... unless someone intercepted them. Someone who had access to his office. Someone who would do anything to keep us together, to keep her little world from falling apart.

Olivia.