Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Forge
My mind races as Jordan drives me back to the firehouse.
Having her here, wanting to see me work, feels both thrilling and terrifying.
The guys said the hazing was officially over, that I’d proven myself.
But what if today proves the opposite? What if Jordan sees me falter and realizes I’m just the rookie they used to haze?
As we pull up to the bay doors, I give her hand a quick squeeze. “Stay well clear once you arrive at the scene. Park behind the cordon and keep back. Deal?”
“I’ll stay out of trouble. Don’t worry about me, firefighter.”
Her smile is brave, but the flicker of concern in her eyes hits me harder than it should. The idea of her anywhere near danger tightens something in my chest—but beneath that, there’s a spark of pride. She wants to see me do what I was born to do.
With no time to spare, I sprint inside to join the crew.
The bay is already a blur of movement. I haul on bunker pants, coat, and boots while Chief snaps out assignments.
Helmet and gloves in hand, mask clipped at my side, I climb aboard the engine with the others.
Within seconds, we’re rolling, siren bouncing off brick and glass.
Jordan follows in her car. When we reach the scene, she parks well back, safely behind the cordon. Even from here, I can see her leaning forward in her car, watching me with an intensity that makes something primal stir in my chest. She’s here to see what I can do. I won’t let her down.
The apartment building is a three-story brick structure, with smoke pouring from the second-floor windows. Chief Brokka barks orders, and we spring into action. “Ironwood, you and Kam take the second floor. Reports of two elderly residents still inside apartment 2B. Your size advantage—use it.”
The words send a surge of pride through me. My size isn’t a liability here—it’s an asset. I catch a glimpse of Jordan watching from behind the cordon, now leaning against her car door. Something fierce and determined settles in my chest. Let her see what this orc can do.
All of us turn on the radios strapped to our belts and gear up with face masks, helmets, gloves, and axes as the chief directs the crew. Oxygen tanks and masks are on standby; we typically don’t need them unless toxic chemicals are involved in the fire.
The stairwell is thick with smoke, but Kam and I navigate it with confidence. The sixty pounds of gear doesn’t slow either of us, even as smoke curls into my lungs. I was built for this. When we reach the second floor, I don’t hesitate. I know the couple in 2B.
I’ve got the couple,” I say to Kam.
“Good. I’ll clear the rest of the floor.” He moves off to the end of the hall.
“Thessa! Darius!” I call out, finding their door unlocked. I stride inside, my voice cutting through the blaring fire alarm and the sirens outside. My lungs are built for this. Smoke that would choke humans barely stings my throat.
I find them huddled in the bathroom, an elderly minotaur couple sitting on the floor, clinging to each other.
Thessa is conscious but disoriented; Darius is weak and appears to have inhaled too much smoke.
They have wet towels over their mouths, but both are coughing, tears pouring down their shaggy faces.
I hit the toggle on my radio, “I got them, Chief. They’re both alive and conscious.”
“Roger, Forge. Keep your radio open and let me know if you need help.”
“You’re safe now,” I tell them in their An’Wa dialect. The relief in their eyes when they hear their native language is worth everything.
I switch to English because the Chief is listening, and I know they speak English fluently. “Can you stand up?” Thessa nods yes as Darius shakes his head no.
“I’m going to help both of you get out of here. Keep the towels over your mouth and nose. When I lift you up, Darius, don’t struggle. Let me do all the work.”
I help Thessa up, and lean her against the sink, then shoulder Darius in a fireman’s carry.
Holding Darius secure with one hand, I wrap my arm across Thessa’s back and grip her tightly around the waist. She leans on me, and I shift Darius a little to counterbalance the sudden pull on my arm.
Their combined weight should break me. Instead, my muscles burn with a welcome fire.
Carrying what others can’t—that’s what I was made for.
The moment we emerge from the building, I scan the crowd, my gaze finding Jordan’s. Even through the smoke and chaos, I see her clearly. Her hand is pressed to her lips, eyes wide with awe—and something hotter. The fire in the building is nothing compared to the blaze in my veins.
Kam comes out the door right behind me. “I got the wife, Forge. Good job, rookie.” He scoops the frail, barely conscious minotaur into his arms and places her gently onto one of the waiting stretchers as I lower Darius onto another.
The paramedics take over Thessa and Darius’s care, and I finally allow myself a moment to breathe. The rescue went exactly as it should have. No mistakes, no hesitation, no moments where my inexperience showed. For the first time since joining this crew, I feel like I truly belong.
Kam and I immediately turn around and grab a hose as the chief directs us to a hot spot.
Several hours later we’re winding the hose back on the truck.
“Ironwood!” Chief Brokka approaches, his expression approving. “Good work in there. Clean technique, solid communication with me and the victims. Got them both to safety. That’s exactly the kind of work I want to see from my crew.”
The praise hits differently than usual, partly because I know Jordan heard it. I’ve proven myself not just to my Chief, but to the woman whose opinion somehow matters more than anyone else’s.
“Thank you, sir.”
“It was your day off, so thanks for helping, but we’ll take it from here.
The floors have been cleared, no casualties, and the fire is out,” Brokka says, then glances toward the cordon with obvious amusement.
“Looks like you’ve got other priorities, anyway.
We browbeat you into the speed dating thing, so we might as well let you reap the rewards. ”
As the scene winds down and equipment gets packed away, I become acutely aware of how I must look—soot-streaked, sweat-dampened, the acrid tang of smoke clinging to my gear and hair. Most humans would recoil, but Jordan doesn’t.
When I approach, she says nothing at first, just steps into my arms, pressing close as if every mark of fire only draws her nearer.
“You were incredible. I heard every word through the Chief’s radio,” she whispers against my neck, her fingers knotting in my jacket. “Absolutely incredible.”
“Just doing my job,” I say, but her faith in me makes my chest tight with pride.
“No.” She pulls back to look at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears and something that looks remarkably like arousal. “That wasn’t just a job. That was heroism. And I got to watch you be exactly who you’re meant to be.”
The way she looks at me—hungry, reverent—hits harder than any praise I’ve ever taken from my crew. Heat rolls through me, sharp and urgent.
I tug off my gloves and helmet, shaking out sweat-damp hair, and catch her gaze lingering before it snaps back to mine.
“You shouldn’t be sexy like this,” she says softly, cheeks flushing. “But God, Forge, watching you carry both of them out…” Her voice falters, and she shakes her head, like words can’t keep up with what she feels.
My blood spikes at her words, every protective instinct flaring hot. “I should head back to the station, get this gear cleaned up and checked.”
“Of course. You must be exhausted after all that.”
I start to agree, then remember. “Actually, the showers are down for maintenance this week. I’ll have to head home to clean up properly.” I gesture to my soot-covered gear. “Not exactly fit for public consumption.”
She looks almost shy as she asks, “Would you mind if I came with you? I’m not ready for this day to end, and I’d love to see where you live. Maybe you could show me some of your wood projects?” She pauses, and for the first time, I see a blush on her cheeks as she slowly adds, “Maybe more.”
The request slams into me, my pulse spiking as I picture her in my space—on my couch, in my world. “You really want to… see my apartment?”
“I want to see your world,” she says simply. “Where you create all those beautiful things. Where you became the man I just saw out there. The male who carried two people through smoke and still looks at me like I matter.”
Something warm settles in my chest. “I’d like that. Let me just drop this gear at the truck, Kam can take it back to the station.”
“I’ll drive you to your place?”
“Yes. It isn’t far from here.” I pause, studying her face. “Fair warning—it’s not fancy.”
“I don’t care about fancy. I care about getting to know the man who makes me feel like today isn’t nearly finished yet.”