Chapter 58

Kaelen

The firehouse had its own rhythm, a pulse I’d lived in for years. Boots clanging against tile, radios buzzing with static, the faint stench of smoke that clung to the walls no matter how hard the rookies scrubbed them down. For most men, it was background noise. For me, it was a cage.

I tugged my gear into place, movements mechanical, trying to focus on muscle memory rather than the coil of