The morning after Derek’s call, the firehouse felt heavier. Zara moved through the kitchen like a ghost, pouring coffee with trembling hands. Mia chattered happily about the pancakes Jax had promised, oblivious to the storm brewing.
Then Derek showed up.
He stormed into the station just after breakfast, wearing a cheap suit and a smug expression that made Zara’s stomach twist. Two of the younger firefighters tried to stop him at the bay doors, but he pushed past, voice loud enough to echo off the concrete.
“Where’s my daughter?” he demanded. “I hear you’re shacking up with half the fire department, Zara. Real stable environment for Mia. I’m filing for custody unless you make this right.”
The common room went dead silent. Chairs scraped back. Mace stepped forward first, shoulders square
