The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of the pine and the faintest trace of salt air. Bode Leone stood outside Trinidad's old fire station, his soulful blue eyes taking in the weathered building that would be his new home base. The brick walls bore the scars of years of use and abuse, and the trucks parked in the bays had seen their share of action. This northern California surf town on the edge of Six Rivers National Forest was a place where reputations were made, and Bode knew that his own was still very much in question.
He adjusted the strap of his gear bag on his shoulder, steeling himself for the meeting he knew was coming. The station chief had made it clear that Bode was to report to him first thing, and Bode had a sinking feeling that this was going to be more of an interrogation than a welcoming.
Pushing open the door, Bode stepped inside, the familiar smell of coffee and diesel fuel hitting him immediately. The station was buzzing with activity as firefighters prepped equipment, checked radios, and engaged in the usual banter that filled the gaps between emergencies. But all that energy seemed to fade into the background as Bode made his way to the chief's office at the back of the building.
The door was ajar, and Bode could see the man inside, seated at a cluttered desk. Chief William "Bill" Harper was a grizzled veteran, pushing sixty but still carrying himself with the hard-edged demeanour of someone who had spent a lifetime on the fire line. His hair was silver, his face lined with deep creases that spoke of countless battles with flames and smoke. His eyes, however, were what struck Bode the most—cold, calculating, and not the least bit impressed.
Bode knocked lightly on the doorframe. "Chief Harper?"
The older man looked up from the stack of reports he was reviewing, his gaze locking onto Bode like a hawk zeroing in on prey. "Leone," he said, his voice gravelly and without warmth. "Come in. Close the door."
Bode did as he was told, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him amplifying the tension in the room. He stood at attention, unsure whether he was supposed to sit or remain standing. Chief Harper didn't offer any direction, leaving Bode to make the choice himself. He opted to remain standing.
Harper leaned back in his chair, eyeing Bode up and down. "You know why you're here, don't you?"
Bode nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "Yes, sir. I was told to report to you for my assignment."
A smirk tugged at the corner of Harper's mouth, though it was devoid of any humour. "Assignment," he repeated, almost mockingly. "Let's get something straight, Leone. The only reason you're standing in my station is because your uncle Luke pulled some strings. I owe him a favour for him helping us to get upgrades to our radio tower, and this is me payin' it back. But don't think for a second that you've earned your place here. As far as I'm concerned, you're on borrowed time."
Bode swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he absorbed the harsh words. He had expected resistance, but hearing it laid out so bluntly still stung. "I understand, sir."
"Do you?" Harper leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Because from where I'm sitting, all I see is a kid with a lot of baggage and a name that doesn't mean a damn thing in this house. You think because your folks are Sharon and Vince Leone, you can just waltz in here and get respect by association? Think again."
Bode stiffened at the mention of his parents. They were legends in the CalFire world and had spent decades building their reputations as being among the best in the business. Even before being incarcerated, Bode had spent his entire life trying to step out of that shadow, to prove he was his own man. Now, it felt like he was right back where he started.
"I'm not here because of them," Bode said, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "I'm here because I want to fight fires more than anything else in the world. Because I know I can do this job, and I'm ready to prove it."
Harper's eyes narrowed, as if searching for any sign of weakness. "You'd better be, because I don't give a damn about your last name. All I care about is whether you can keep up with my crew and not get yourself—or anyone else—killed. I've seen too many probies with big names and no guts, and I'm not about to let one more slide under my watch."
Bode met Harper's gaze, refusing to back down. "I understand that, sir. And I'm ready to do whatever it takes to prove I belong here."
Harper leaned back again, folding his arms across his chest. "We'll see. You've got a lot to live up to, and I'm not just talking about your parents. Your uncle Luke might be a big shot in Cal Fire, but he's also a man who knows how to play dirty. If I catch even a whiff of you pulling the same stunts he does, you're out. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Bode replied, his voice firm.
"Good." Harper's gaze softened, but only slightly. "There's potential in you, Leone. I can see that. But potential doesn't mean a damn thing if you don't back it up with action. Show me you're more like your old man than your uncle, and maybe—just maybe—you'll earn your place on this crew."
With that, Harper dismissed him with a nod, turning back to his reports as if the conversation had never happened. Bode took the cue and left the office, his mind racing with everything that had just been said.