Page 61 of Infamous

For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The air between us hums, electric with everything unspoken - fear, relief, recognition.

Then I turn and walk out, the door hanging crooked behind me, splintered wood still trembling from the impact. Cold night air rushes in, curling through the wreckage and carrying the scent of smoke; sharp, lingering, deliberate. It clings to the room like a warning, like a promise that any man who hurts her won’t get to walk away.

38

LUCIAN

Scar Gatti stands with his hands braced on the table, eyes locked on the papers in front of him but not seeing them. He doesn’t look up when I walk in, but I know he knows I’m there. You can’t sneak up on a man like him. You can only wait for him to decide whether you’re worth the trouble.

“Scar,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t answer right away. He just exhales through his nose, a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl. “You got a complication, huh?”

I nod once. “Nadia’s ex.”

That gets his attention. His head lifts, eyes cutting to mine, sharp as razors. “What kind of complication?”

“The kind that beat the woman I—” I stop myself, jaw tightening. “He almost killed her.”

Scar’s stare doesn’t waver. “You mean Nadia.”

I say nothing.

He straightens, pacing slowly around the table, and the silence between us stretches, thick and heavy. Then he stops. “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

I keep my tone even. “He laid his hands on her.”

Scar rubs his temples. “Christ, Jude! Tell me you didn’t put him in your goddamn truck.”

My silence is answer enough.

Scar slams his fist down on the table, the sound echoing through the concrete room. “This - this is why men like us don’t have feelings!” His voice rises, deep and raw, the kind of anger that doesn’t need to shout to fill the walls. “You let emotions crawl inside your head, they start to fracture it from the inside out. You forget the mission, you forget the rules - and you start doing stupid shit like kidnapping liabilities.”

I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, jaw flexing. He’s not wrong. I know he’s not wrong. But hearing it like that, from him, still burns like salt on an open wound.

Scar paces again, dragging a hand through his hair. “You jeopardized everything we’ve built. You know that? The Gatti brothers, the Morenos, Ironside - every alliance, every move we’ve made to clean this city up from the filth. You throw a body in your truck, and all it takes is one camera, one wrong eye, and the whole goddamn empire collapses.”

He’s still talking, but my mind’s somewhere else. It’s back in Nadia’s apartment, smelling the copper scent of blood, steadying the trembling of her hands. The look in her eyes when I told her she wasn’t dying today.

Scar notices my silence, and it only pisses him off more. “Say something, damn it.”

“What do you want me to say?” I finally manage. “That I should’ve walked away? That I should’ve left her bleeding on the floor so we could keep our hands clean?”

Scar stops dead in front of me. He’s shorter, but somehow it doesn’t feel that way. “I want you to remember who you are, Jude. You’re not her savior. You’re a weapon. You do the job, you clean up the mess, and you don’t fall in love with the goddamn collateral.”

The words hit harder than they should. I swallow the fire climbing up my throat and drop my gaze. “Understood.”

He studies me for a beat longer, then exhales, the edge softening slightly. “You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen,” he says quietly. “Don’t make me regret letting you back into this world.”

I nod once, turn on my heel, and head for the door before my mouth decides to get me killed.

Mason’s leaning against the hood of his car outside, cigarette glowing between his fingers. He watches me approach with that unreadable calm of his, the kind that makes you wonder if he’s already ten moves ahead.

“How bad was it?” he asks.

“Bad enough.”

He flicks ash onto the gravel, eyes narrowing. “He’s right, you know. You’re lucky Scar didn’t pull his gun just to make a point.”