Page 106 of Infamous
“Lucian. Let them work.”
I don’t want to let go. I can’t. The second I put her down, it feels like I’m handing her over to death itself.
“She’s not gone,” I say, even as my hands shake. “She’s not - she’s just-”
The medics are already pressing pads to her chest, the machine whining to life.
I’m still kneeling on the ground, hands smeared with her blood, watching the medic start compressions. One, two, three - her body jerks under the force, her hair falling across her face, her lips parted slightly like she’s about to speak.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I choke out. “Don’t do this to me.”
The medic shouts, “Clear!” and her body jumps under the shock.
Once. Twice. No response.
I can feel something inside me splinter - clean, final.
Jayson’s hand lands on my shoulder, grounding, but I shrug it off. I don’t want comfort. I wanther.
“Again!” the medic yells. Another shock. Her body arches, then falls still, and the medic falls back on the balls of his feet.
And then I’m gone.
The rage comes first. It’s pure and colorless, a heat that burns everything else out of me. I stand, pacing away from the team because if I stay too close, I’ll start breaking things - people - everything and anything. My fists slam against the wall, hard enough to crack plaster. Once. Twice. Again.
Scar calls my name, sharp. “Jude - ”
“Don’t,” I snarl, voice shredded raw. “Don’t fucking tell me she’s gone.”
But sheis.
I know it the way you know a storm before it hits - the air is too still, the sound too quiet. I turn back, and she’s lying there on the ground, small and still, the defibrillator whining flat.
I drop beside her again, fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, wiping blood and dirt away like it matters. Her skin is cooling fast. My voice breaks apart when I whisper, “You were supposed to be safe with me. I was supposed to protect you.”
And that’s the truth that guts me - not the loss, not the blood, but the failure. The unbearable weight of it pressing down until I can barely breathe.
I press my forehead to hers, whispering her name over and over, as if I can call her back through sheer will. Around us, the world goes on, but I don’t hear any of it.
It’s just me and her.
And the silence that follows when the person you’d die for stops breathing.
Then, faint - a sound. A hitch. A puff that’s barely a breath.
“Wait,” the doctor says, voice tight.
I lift my head.
The medic leans forward, pressing fingers to her neck, then his eyes snap wide. “She’s got a pulse!”
For a moment, the world stops again - not from grief this time, but from the impossible light flickering in the dark.
I grab her hand, hold it against my chest. “That’s it,” I whisper, every word breaking. “Stay with me, Nadia. Stay the fuck with me.”
And as she’s lifted onto a gurney and wheeled into the makeshift hospital room the med team has set up, I swear I feel it - the faintest squeeze of her fingers against mine.
It’s enough to pull me back from the edge.
