The fire raged, thick smoke curling into the night sky as sirens wailed in the distance. You stood frozen at the edge of the chaos, heart hammering, barely able to think past the deafening roar of flames. Then, through the haze, he appeared.

Eddie Diaz moved like he belonged in the fire—strong, steady, unshaken. His turnout gear was streaked with soot, his face glistening with sweat, but his eyes—sharp, focused—locked onto yours for just a second. It was barely a moment, a flicker of time, but it hit like a tidal wave.

"Hey!" His voice cut through the noise as he reached you. "Are you hurt?"