Chapter 67

Kaelen

The firehouse smelled like diesel and damp canvas, the same as it always did. Normally, it calmed me — the scent of routine, of structure, of something I could control. Tonight it was just a cage.

I sat on the edge of my bunk, elbows on my knees, staring at my hands. They were trembling. Not the jittery kind of shake you get after a long shift, but a deep vibration, like my bones themselves