I caught Liam checking the locks before bed. Once. Then again.
Caught him pausing at the window, eyes on the driveway, like he was listening for something more than sound.
Neither of us said anything.
We were waiting.
Counting.
Holding our breath.
Five days.
I tried to maintain a routine for Mia's sake.
School drop-off at 7:45, same as always. I walked her to the door, watched her disappear inside, waited until I saw her wave from the window of her classroom. Then I drove to the station for my shift, forcing myself not to look in the rearview mirror more than necessary.
Normal. We were doing normal. Normal was safe.
But normal felt like a costume that didn't fit anymore. Like wearing someone else's skin, going through motions that used to mean something and now felt hollow.
At the station, I ran through drills with mechanical precision. Ladder operations. Hose advancement. Search-and-rescue patterns. My body knew the movements, could execute them without conscious thought—which was good, because my mind was somewhere else entirely.
Three steps ahead. Always calculating. If Todd came to the ranch, which exits were closest. If he showed up at the school, how fast I could get there. If he found us on the road, where we could go, who we could call, what weapons we had access to.
Escape routes and worst-case scenarios. The mental math I'd been doing since I was sixteen years old.
Cal caught me in the apparatus bay during a water break. He didn't say anything at first, just leaned against the engine beside me, arms crossed, that steady presence he had.
“You okay, Santos?”
I forced a smile. It felt wrong on my face. “Ask me again next week.”
He nodded slowly, not pushing. Cal was good at that. Knowing when to ask and when to wait.
“If you need anything.”
Cal shifted his weight, boot scraping lightly against the concrete. His eyes stayed on the engine, not on me, like he wasn’t trying to corner anything fragile.
“Time off. Extra hands at the ranch. Whatever.”
He finally looked over, brief but steady.
“You know where to find me.”
“I know.”
He squeezed my shoulder once and walked away.
I stood there, staring at the engine's chrome finish, my reflection warped and distorted in the metal.
One week, I thought.When it's over. If we survive that long.
I didn't say that part out loud.
The call came in at 1:15 PM.
Kitchen fire on Maple Street that turned into a full structure by the time we arrived. The kind that ate hours without warning, that demanded every ounce of attention and left nothing for anything else.
