Page 27 of A Life Chosen

“The fuck you doing, Silvano?” Mathias said to buy himself time, his mind scrambling.

He was surprised at how calm he sounded. It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself on the wrong end of a gun, but never like this, crossed by one of his own. The Beretta beneath his jacket sat heavy against his chest. There was no way he’d get to it before the kid’s bullet sent him splattering across the floor.

Junior began to laugh. “Used to things going your way, huh?” He stepped forward, pressing the muzzle of his pistol against Mathias’s forehead. “You’re not going to like what happens next.”

Mathias swallowed the dread that rose to choke him. “Enlighten me.”

Junior smiled indulgently. “First, I’m going to blow your brains out. Then I’m going to walk back outside and plug your meat shield right between the eyes.”

“And then?” Mathias pressed, trying not to think of Rayan in the car, a sitting duck. “Don’t expect me to believe you’d clip a capo for a measly fifty grand.”

“This?” The kid kicked at the bag of cash by his feet. He shook his head. “Got nothing to do with money. You’re the first of many. But you fast-tracked your way to the top with that little promotion. A year from now, the family will be unrecognizable, a complete overhaul from top to bottom. Not that you’ll be here to see it.”

Mathias had to concentrate to hear his own thoughts above the rush of blood in his ears. “What’s Piero promised in return for you getting your hands dirty?”

Junior’s grin grew wider. “Look who’s got it all figured out. He’ll be pleased you knew. Makes it that much sweeter.”

The metal dug into his skin. Mathias fought to control his breathing, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of knowing he was afraid. He’d always been blasé about death, figuring that in his line of work, it might come sooner than most. But that was because up until recently, there hadn’t been anything—or anyone—he thought he’d miss.

“Thing is, there are those of us who prefer things the way they used to be,” Junior said, his expression hardening. “Where a son would inherit his father’s business, where we’d have nothing to do with your mongrel friend out there, and a bastard like you would never—”

There was a loud bang, and a spray of wetness spattered Mathias’s face. For a split second, he was sure it was his own blood. His lungs emptied, waiting for his body to crumple. Instead, Junior pitched forward, the side of his head blown out, eyes rolling back as he fell to the ground.

Mathias looked past where Junior had been standing to see Rayan, gun in hand. On his face was the same expression Mathias remembered from years ago, the day his brother had died—naked terror staring back at him.

Rayan strode toward Mathias, each breath tearing through his chest, heart hammering in his throat. His capo stood, dazed, with blood splattered across the front of his white shirt and along the side of his face. Rayan yanked at Mathias’s jacket and ran his hands across his stomach, his ribs, roughly patting him down. He knew what he was looking for, but there was no sign of a wound, to both their disbelief.

Rayan dropped his hands, and the two shared a look, Mathias’s gray eyes mirroring his own fear before they shuttered.

“We need to go,” his capo said.

Rayan’s gaze dropped to Silvano sprawled face down at their feet. “What about him?”

Mathias spat on the ground. “Leave him. Let him rot.”

Rayan did what he was told, no longer capable of thought. Apprehensive about Junior accompanying his boss, he had stepped out of the Mercedes to wait. That was the only reason he’d heard the shots—faint, like an engine backfiring. If he’d remained in the car like Mathias had instructed…

Rayan stopped the thought in its tracks. After he left the car, it was all a blur. He could barely recall the moment before he pulled the trigger, registering only Silvano’s gun pressed against his capo’s head, his own weapon in his hand before he knew what he was doing. No decision, only instinct. One man, he needed. The other, he did not.

They returned to the car, and Rayan pulled out of the empty lot, grateful for the grip of the steering wheel to stop the tremor in his hands. The sky was already beginning to color, the sun ushered out early in streaks of orange, heralding the start of winter. He drove slowly, glancing often in the rearview mirror as though expecting someone to appear.

Rayan could not slow his thundering heartbeat. He glanced over at Mathias, not convinced they were actually in the car, driving away. Alive.

“Mathias,” he managed to get out.

“Too close, I know,” Mathias muttered, not taking his eyes off the road.

“I thought—” The realization came like a blow.

He felt the car swerve, no longer able to keep his hands from shaking. Rayan pulled over to the side of the road and got out, sucking in the cooling air. He paced along the sidewalk, trying to expel the adrenaline racing through his system. He’d thought he was too late, forced to watch like he had with his brother and hear the thud as his body hit the ground, dull eyes open, staring.

“I’ll drive.” Mathias appeared beside him, his voice muted.

He seemed to have severed all emotion from their current reality. Rayan had spent years trying to perfect this skill but could only manage a superficial mimicry, unable to fully master the depth of feeling that ruled over him.

“I couldn’t forgive myself—”

Before Rayan could finish, Mathias’s hand was on his shoulder, his grip hard. “Enough.”

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