The night sky was split open with flashing red lights.
The truck roared through the empty streets, sirens screaming, wind hammering against the windows. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her teeth. Calls like this always felt different. There was something sharper in the air when they were first on scene. Something that made every breath taste like metal.
“Warehouse,” Beck shouted over the noise. “South end. Two alarms.”
She nodded, adjusting the strap of her helmet, the weight of the turnout gear pressing into her shoulders. She could already smell it — that thick, unmistakable scent of burning wood and diesel. By the time they turned the corner, orange light was already crawling across the sky.
Flames licked at the edges of the warehouse roof, smoke rolling upward in hea
