Page 107 of Infamous

Enough to make me believe again.

“She’s got a deep abdominal wound,”the doctor tells us. “Deep, through the wall. We need to open her up. Now.”

“How bad is it?” My throat burns.

The doctor doesn’t answer. He’s too busy calling for saline, clamps, pressure.

But I know the look in his eyes. The pity. The calculation. The quiet verdict. No one survives a wound like that.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head like I can undo the world. “She pulled through before. She’s going to make it.”

Blood stains my hands, my sleeves, my soul. I can’t tell where she ends and I begin. Mason keeps a hand on my shoulder, steady and heavy, the only thing keeping me from falling face-first into her death.

She moans, barely there, but it’s enough to gut me, and I’m beside her in an instant, refusing to let go.

“Hey,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Open your eyes, Nadia. Look at me. Look at me, sweetheart.”

She doesn’t. Her lashes flicker once. That’s all.

“Her blood pressure’s tanking!” someone yells. “We’re losing her again - ”

“No!” I slam my palm against the wall, the sound cracking through the hall. “You’re not losing her! Do your fucking job!”

Mason’s voice is low, breaking in ways I’ve never heard, as he holds me back from the med room.

“They need space, Jude. Let them fight for her.”

“Sheismy fight,” I rasp. My throat feels like I swallowed glass. “You don’t get it, Mason. They took everything from me once. I won’t let them take her too.”

He doesn’t argue. Maybe because he knows there’s nothing left to say.

I collapse against the wall, sliding down until I’m sitting in her blood. My shaking hands cover my face. I can still feel her heartbeat on my palms, still taste the salt of her skin, still hear her laugh from another lifetime.

I begged the devil once to bring me peace. He gave me Nadia instead.

Now he’s come to collect.

Minutes blur. Hours. Time bleeds out like her life on that floor.

The surgeon finally steps out, his face streaked with sweat. His eyes don’t meet mine.

“She’s still in surgery,” he says quietly. “It’s bad. The blade hit her stomach, liver, and possibly her artery. We’ll try to repair what we can, but…”

He hesitates.

“But she might not make it.”

My world caves in.

Mason’s hand is still on my shoulder, but I barely feel it. I’m somewhere else - back in the cell where I counted the years by her name. Back in the dark where I dreamed of her face every night, where survival meant imagining that one day I’d find her again.

And I did.

I found her.

Only to lose her like this.

I stand, numb, and stare through the doorway into the makeshift operating room. They’re cutting her open, hands moving fast, frantic, desperate.