Page 124 of Infamous
They stay there a while - the three of them in the shade of the willow, the world quiet except for the heartbeat of the wind and the sound of her son’s laughter.
When the sun starts to dip, Lucian stands, lifting Billy into his arms. Nadia gathers the blanket and glances back at the grave one last time. The flowers bend gently in the wind, and she swears she can almost hear Billie’s laugh on the air.
Lucian takes her hand as they walk away, his thumb tracing slow circles against her skin. “You ready to go home?”
She looks up at him, at the man who knelt beside her through hell and stayed when most would have run.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “Home sounds perfect.”
He squeezes her hand, smiling. “We beat the odds, angel.”
Nadia glances at Billy, fast asleep against his shoulder, and then back at Lucian.
“We took the five percent,” she whispers.
He leans down and kisses her temple. “And we made it one hundred.”
The sky burns gold above them as they walk down the hill - the storm long behind, the peace finally theirs.
And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like borrowed time.
It feels like forever.
EPILOGUE 2 - REDEMPTION
Lucian’s at the counter, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair streaked with more silver now than black. He still moves like a man who could end the world if it threatened what he loves - but there’s peace threaded through the violence now, a kind of quiet learned only after years of noise.
He watches their son with that secret, soft smile he saves for moments like this - the ones where life feels almost ordinary.
Nadia leans against the doorframe, coffee mug warm in her hands, and just… watches them. Her boys. Her life.
Billy looks up, grinning. “Mom, wanna see something cool?”
“Always,” she says, crossing the room.
He holds up his little paper plane - blue, creased, patched with tape. “It flies better now. Dad helped me fix it.”
Lucian smirks. “He refused to believe gravity was real.”
“Gravity’s boring,” Billy says, sticking his tongue out. “I’m gonna make mine faster than the others.”
Nadia ruffles his hair. “I bet you will, baby.”
Lucian catches her gaze over their son’s head, and for a heartbeat, the years vanish. It’s all there - the blood, the clinic,the ghosts they buried to get here. He doesn’t have to say it. Neither does she.
We made it.
That night, when Billy’s asleep - sprawled across his bed with one sock missing, the toy plane tucked under his arm - Nadia finds Lucian out back on the porch, cigarette glowing between his fingers, the stars stitched across the sky like memories that refuse to fade.
She slips behind him, wraps her arms around his waist. He leans back into her touch, smoke curling up toward the dark sky.
“He asked about you today,” she murmurs.
Lucian exhales slowly. “What’d he ask?”
“Why you have scars on your hands.”
He glances down at them - the map of old violence that will never quite fade. “What’d you tell him?”
