The piercing shriek of the fire alarm tore through the late-night silence, yet I, Battalion Chief Alice Evans, remained perfectly still, a warm mug cradled in my hands. My gaze, heavy with a knowing weariness, settled on the window, listening as the desperate screams outside were swallowed by the voracious roar of flames. In another life, when the first tendrils of smoke had appeared, I’d immediately dispatched my crews. I’d meticulously orchestrated their attack, sending them from different angles, watching as the inferno yielded, inch by agonizing inch. Only when the last survivor was carried out, charred but breathing, did I finally allow myself to sag, leaning back in my chair, eyes fluttering shut for a brief, earned rest. But then, an icy click. Handcuffs snapped around my wrists. “Battalion Chief Evans, you’re under arrest for intentional homicide. Come with us.” My returning crew, their faces smudged with soot and streaked with blood, their bodies bruised and burned, screamed. Their collective roar was enough to rip the roof off the station. “How could you be so heartless, Alice?! We trusted you! We ran in because we trusted you, and you deliberately misreported the fire! The engines you sent weren’t nearly enough!” “You mixed alcohol into the hoses! A regular fire turned into an inferno! Our brothers were maimed, and not a single soul made it out alive!” The words hit me like a physical blow. Explosion? Lives lost? I’d seen the fire controlled, witnessed survivors being pulled to safety with my own eyes. How could it have morphed into such a catastrophe? Ten or more lives extinguished. When I scrambled to retrieve the station’s security footage, desperate to prove my innocence, I watched in horror as the screen showed me—a version of me I barely recognized—botching every command, making fatal errors. Then, my husband, Tim Miller, stepped forward. He presented a video on his phone, his voice laced with feigned anguish. “She always treated human life with contempt. She hated night shifts, always said, ‘Let them die. Don’t interrupt my sleep.’” I was speechless, trapped in a nightmare. The furious families of the victims, their grief a tangible, burning thing, pushed me, shoved me, until I was flung into the middle of the road. The last thing I felt was the searing impact of a truck, a brutal, bone-shattering finality. And after my death, my apprentice, Chloe Vance, slid into my position. Within weeks, she was living with Tim. He, the grieving widower, publicly wept online, denouncing my “crimes,” earning a tidal wave of sympathy and praise for his supposed “forgiveness” of the driver and families. My body convulsed, a violent tremor that jolted me awake. I was back. Back in my office, the very night the fire began. A soft tap on my desk. I lifted my head, my eyes locking onto Chloe’s sweet, innocent face. My apprentice, who’d been with me since graduation, was pouting, her voice a sugary whine. “Coach, can you switch shifts with me tonight? I have a date, please, please, please?” Her words were a plea, but her eyes held an unsettling glint of certainty, a predatory assurance. In my past life, I hadn’t given it a second thought, readily agreeing. I’d walked straight into the trap she’d dug. The fire had broken out precisely during the shift change. A chilling coincidence. Could she truly have set that fire? Dozens of lives. Watching her pure, guileless smile, a cold dread snaked down my spine. “Coach, you can’t? I’ll give you some of my special gourmet coffee beans! Guaranteed to keep you awake!” Seeing my hesitation, she pressed a small, ornate bag into my hand. My colleagues chimed in, a chorus of good-natured teasing. “Come on, Alice, Chloe’s in love! Be a good sport!” “Yeah, she never lets anyone near those beans! They’re her absolute treasure!” Under their expectant gazes, I wrestled down the swirling chaos in my mind, forcing a slow nod. “Alright, Chloe. I’ll switch.” Chloe’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. She scurried to the break room, practically bouncing, and returned with a steaming mug. “Thank you, Coach! You HAVE to try my special blend. It’s my way of saying thanks!” I took the mug, setting it beside me. But Chloe’s lower lip began to tremble, her eyes welling up, her voice suddenly loud and wounded. “Is Coach mad? I-I promise I won’t bother you again…” My teammates’ eyes flickered with gentle reproach. I had no choice but to lift the mug. The aroma was rich, complex, no hint of anything amiss. Under her satisfied gaze, I drained it. Chloe beamed, a picture of angelic contentment, and practically skipped out. “Tonight’s going to be perfectly fine!” she called out, a seemingly innocuous parting shot. Not long after, Tim, my husband, walked in with a takeout container. “Knew you were on duty, so I switched my own plans to keep you company.” He expertly laid out the meal, his face a mask of loving concern. But seeing him, my heart chilled. Chloe had just left, and he arrived, “just in time.” Was he afraid I wouldn’t play my part in their twisted little drama? This man, who shared my bed, was so eager to push me into the abyss. Last time, he’d been on my crew, following my orders, even rescuing a survivor and waving to me. The fire had been so well-controlled, the hoses personally checked by me. How could alcohol have suddenly appeared? A horrifying theory began to coalesce in my mind. I fumbled for my phone and sent a quick message to a trusted friend at the station closest to the industrial zone. At precisely four in the morning, Chloe’s phone call jolted the silence. Her voice, laced with frantic urgency, was a chilling echo of the past. “Coach! The Riverside Industrial Zone is on fire! Get the crew out there, fast!” Just like before, she’d bypassed central dispatch, calling my private cell directly. Last time, I hadn’t thought twice, immediately dispatching units based on her report, neglecting to have dispatch verify further information. Now, chillingly calm, I detected not just a manufactured panic in her voice, but an unmistakable current of excitement. This fire. She’d set it. I took my time, slowly drawing breath. “You must have the wrong number, Chloe. You should call 911 dispatch first.” Chloe’s incredulous voice, shrill with manufactured outrage, threatened to puncture my eardrum. “Coach, are you insane?! Now’s not the time for procedures! These are real lives! Are you saying I’m lying about a fire? Alice, you think I’d joke about something like this?” She ordered me to open the live monitoring feed. Indeed, it was a massive blaze, screams echoing through the digital static. Yet, I remained unmoving, utterly unfazed. Chloe’s voice escalated, raw with frustration. “How can you be so cold-blooded?! Abandoning lives, letting them die! Are you even fit to be a firefighter anymore?!” “Get everyone out there! Every minute means another life! Please, Alice, I’m begging you!” I held the phone away from my ear, then spoke slowly. “Tell you what, since you’re already on site, you know the situation best. This operation? It’s yours to command. Go for it.” Chloe’s voice was a near-scream. “Alice Evans, where’s your conscience?! Shifting responsibility at a time like this? You’re on duty! I respected you so much!” “My experience isn’t enough! Please, Alice, come save these people!” Just then, Tim burst in, his face a mask of panic. “Alice, isn’t there a fire?! You need to dispatch the crews! There’s no time!” I blew gently on my mug, taking a slow sip. “You two go. Take an extra set of gear. Chloe will lead.” Last time, I’d rushed four engines to the scene. Once there, Chloe had suddenly requested to enter the burning structure, offering to assist. I’d handed her my own rescue gear, commanding from outside. I’d personally watched several firefighters pull survivors from the wreckage, even double-checked that they were alive. The hoses had sprayed clear water, and the blaze had seemed fully contained. Chloe had even run out of the inferno to tell me, “They’re all out, Coach! We’ll be clearing out soon!” It had all felt so incredibly real, impossible to fake. But it was entirely different from the surveillance footage I later saw. In that video, I was indeed outside the building, but the fire itself was completely different. The flames were barely under control when the hoses malfunctioned, spewing alcohol-laced water, instantly triggering the explosion. And the video version of me had calmly walked away from the immediate blast zone before the explosion, settling into my truck to rest. How had they done it? How had they manipulated what I saw, what I experienced, so utterly? Before I could fully process it, my teammates stormed in, their faces a mix of anxiety and simmering anger. “Chief Evans, isn’t there a fire? Why haven’t you dispatched anyone?” I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve already put Chloe in charge. Didn’t you get her orders?” One of the firefighters, a burly man named Mike, slammed his coffee cup down, his voice trembling with fury. “Alice Evans, what are you doing just sitting here drinking coffee at a time like this?!” “Are you treating this job like a joke? Or human lives?” “That’s a fire!” I nodded calmly, agreeing. “Yes, it’s a fire. Chloe’s on site right now. She knows the situation better than I do. Hasn’t she given you orders?” The team bristled, eyes blazing. “Are you kidding us?! You’re on duty tonight! And you’re splitting hairs over this?! Chloe’s command experience isn’t close to yours, and you’re just standing by? Don’t you know how important lives are?!” I spread my hands, a picture of weary resignation. “I’m just not up to commanding right now. I’m willing to go inside and help with the rescue myself, though.” “Don’t worry, after this fire, I’ll voluntarily resign.” Tim sprang forward, pointing a trembling finger at me, his face contorted with theatrical rage. “Alice Evans, you should’ve been fired from command a long time ago! You treat human lives like trash! Even now, you don’t care about them!” He clutched his head, groaning in what appeared to be agony. “It’s my fault. Last time you said you hated night shifts, hated responding to calls, I thought you were joking. I didn’t take you seriously.” “I never thought you actually felt that way!” “I should’ve reported you right then and there, you heartless wretch!” With that, he pulled out his phone, cueing up a video he’d recorded. On the screen, a version of me stared back, her expression one of utter disdain, cold and dismissive. “Another night shift. God, this is annoying.” “If there’s a fire, it’s just their fate. They deserve it! Let them die, just don’t bother my sleep.” “I’ve pulled so many all-nighters, my skin looks terrible. They should all just die off so I can get some decent sleep.” The firefighters gasped, staring at me with a mixture of shock and profound disgust. That was the video Tim had released to the public in my previous life. The camera was aimed directly at my face, every cruel word, every indifferent expression, chillingly clear. The families of the fire victims had used it to hunt me down, swarming me, punching and kicking, venting their furious grief. Until someone plunged a knife into me, sending me sprawling into the path of that truck. The memories flashed, vivid and sickening. I stared at Tim, my hands clenching, trembling. Then, I’d sought out the police, and they’d declared the video authentic, free of any digital manipulation! But those weren’t my words. That wasn’t how I felt. Tim, still playing the role of the distraught husband, still wore that mask of regret, but a flicker of triumphant excitement danced in his eyes. “I should’ve called the police on you then! Saved us all this trouble now!” “Alice Evans, their deaths are on you! You’re the real culprit!” “I’m going to release this video online. Everyone will see your ugly face!” My teammates’ eyes were bloodshot, burning with condemnation. “Alice Evans, we called you ‘Chief’ for so long. Do you deserve that title? Do you deserve this uniform?!” “We were so wrong about you! You don’t deserve to live!” I sighed softly, taking another slow sip of my coffee. I raised my eyes. “Are you quite finished? I never said I wouldn’t save people. Right now, you’re the ones neglecting human lives.” I looked at Tim, my voice even, devoid of emotion. “Just a moment ago, you were frantic, practically beside yourself with urgency. Yet, in this supposedly critical moment, you didn’t forget to pull out a video to stomp all over me. Are you desperate to save lives, or just desperate to condemn me?” Now it was Tim’s turn to fluster, his face reddening. “I was just so furious with you! You’re just sitting here, indifferent, treating lives as meaningless!” I shook my head, a knowing, almost pitying look in my eyes. “I think you’re sharper than you let on.” Tim scoffed. “It’s too late to go there now. Let’s see how you explain this to everyone!” … The fire engine had barely pulled out of the station before police cruisers cut them off. Tim’s eyes flickered, a hint of alarm. “Officer, we’re responding to a fire! Why are you stopping us?” My teammates scoffed behind him, not hesitating to point directly at me. “Officer, has someone reported her? She’s our fire chief, but she doesn’t take her duties seriously. She holds human life in contempt.” “Honestly, with her, I wouldn’t be surprised by any illegal or unethical behavior.” The officer frowned, checking the information on his tablet. “This is the right vehicle, then.” “We received a report of intentional arson and attempted murder.” My teammates exchanged gleeful, triumphant glances, looking at me. Tim, practically vibrating with eagerness, dragged me forward to the police. “Officer, it’s definitely her. Take her in, investigate thoroughly. I have plenty of evidence I can submit.” I took a deep breath, pushing down the surge of anger, and raised my hand. “Officer, I’m the one who made the report. I’m turning myself in.”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "392704", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel