Page 103 of Infamous
It belongs to him.
To the man in the shadows who watches like he owns the air I breathe. His stillness is a challenge, a command. Every breath I take, every slow turn of my hips feels like an offering to that unseen hunger between us.
The lights blur. The world narrows. All I can hear is the blood in my ears and the whisper of fabric sliding against skin. My heart doesn’t care about the music - it’s moving to something older, darker, more dangerous.
A language written in the space between us.
I slide a hand down my throat, over my chest, the movement almost reverent. The air shivers with tension. It’s not just performance anymore; it’s confession - the kind you make with your body when words don’t work. I move closer to the edge of the stage, bridging the gap between us.
The spotlight sweeps the audience again. Empty chairs. Shadows. Then his outline sharpens - a dark figure, elbows on knees, eyes fixed on me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive.
Lucian. Jude. Both. Neither.
I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. They merge in the light - one heart, two ghosts, the past and present colliding in the fever dream of my mind.
The music fades, but the rhythm doesn’t stop. It’s inside me now, low and steady. I take one more step forward, bare feet against the wood, breath catching in my throat.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
No answer. Just the echo of my voice across the empty theatre andthe faint rise of a man’s shadow - standing now, walking toward me, slow and certain.
The light flickers.
And for a heartbeat, I think I see both faces - Lucian’s smirk, Jude’s grief - layered perfectly over each other.
I don’t know which one I want to reach for.
I only know I want him.
The spotlight flares. The music drops.
And the dream breaks open.
61
LUCIAN
She’s here.
I can feel it with every part of me.
People talk about twin flames like it’s some cosmic pull. But this? This is a burn that starts under my ribs and spreads until breathing feels wrong. This is the kind of tether that drags you through hell to find the person on the other side.
There are no cars in the driveway when we reach the ranch. But that doesn’t mean it’s empty.
The whole place sits in darkness, the kind that eats at the edges of your vision. A few overhead beams cut through the black, slicing the yard into strips of silver and shadow. It’s too still. Too quiet.
The convoy fans out like a deck of cards being laid on the table. Engines cut. Doors open in near silence. Everyone moves without needing to be told, each man a piece of a well-oiled machine built by blood and war. But my head isn’t in the plan. It’s somewhere else.
In the air. In the faint trace of something I can’t mistake. The smell of her. The ghost of her breath caught in the wind. I closemy eyes for half a second, and I can almost hear it - that soft, uneven rhythm that could only belong to Nadia.
She’s here.
I can feel it in my bones.
We hit the front door hard. The lock gives with a crack, splinters skidding across the porch. The house exhales dust and silence as we move in.
Scar signals left, Mason right, Jayson behind me - every step rehearsed, every breath timed. The air is thick with the smell of copper and something sharper, a chemical sting that crawls up the back of my throat.
