Page 59 of A Life Betrayed

“And Allen…?” Mathias returned.

The full weight of what Rayan had done came crashing down on him. He fought to control the panic that constricted his throat. He’d gone behind Mathias’s back to make a deal with the inspector. There was no version of reality in which that would go down well, and judging by the grim look on Mathias’s face, things were already far from good.

Rayan recalled their conversation back at the man’s apartment and how Mathias had been adamant about staying and taking his chances here. Mathias’s loyalty to the family was his blind spot, and as the ship began to sink, it would pull him under. This loyalty—the need to prove that he wouldn’t buckle under pressure or betray the allegiances to which he’d given his word—had prevented Mathias from using the photos to his own advantage.

But Rayan couldn’t stand the thought of what would happen if Allen succeeded in taking Mathias down. Over the past few years, he’d watched parts of Mathias emerge from the darkness, bit by bit. When Mathias had returned from his short stint in jail, for a moment, it had felt like he’d once again disappeared from view. He couldn’t let Mathias lose what had been sopainstakingly reclaimed. So Rayan had taken his chances, hoping that he could save Mathias without destroying what they had.

“I got her out,” Rayan said evenly.

“Bet she was an ungrateful little shrew about it too.”

Rayan thought about how the inspector had gripped his arm. He’d felt the clench of terror in her fingers. “That about sums it up,” he said, staring straight ahead.

Mathias pulled the car up to the curb a street away from the safe house. “You hesitated,” he said into the silence of the cab. “You haven’t done that since the beginning.”

Beside him in the passenger seat, Rayan pressed his lips hard together.

“Give it to me.”

Rayan reached for the gun in his waistband and placed it down on the dashboard. “I could’ve done it,” he said, his voice tight, unconvincing.

“I won’t let you put me in that position again. From here on, you stay out of this, understood?”

“Mathias—”

“Don’t fucking start with me,” he growled. “This isn’t your world anymore. You’d do well to remember that.”

It was just as much for his own sake as it was Rayan’s. When he’d stepped out of the warehouse to find the man on the ground, the explosion of rage had been blinding and immediate. He didn’t function well when thoughts of Rayan’s safety crowded out all reason.

Mathias felt Rayan’s eyes on him, but he refused to meet his gaze. There was a click as Rayan opened the passenger door and then a thud as he closed it behind him and disappeared into thedarkened street. Mathias let out a slow breath and attempted to straighten the mess in his head. He wasn’t sure exactly what would come of cutting ties with Truman, but he did know that it wouldn’t stop the Feds. If the threat of retribution hadn’t deterred Truman, who would be next?

His eyes fell to the gun on the dashboard. The look on Rayan’s face as he stared up at Truman’s lackey—that was the kid from before, brought suddenly back to life. He remembered that look from the early days, when Rayan had yet to prove himself as his second.

It would have been about a month after Mathias had taken him on. There had been one attempt prior to this, and Rayan had failed spectacularly, proving right all of Mathias’s assumptions. He’d driven Rayan back to the Collections office and told the man he was done with him. But Rayan had refused to get out of the car, imploring him to give him one more chance, and Mathias, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction—this from a kid who barely spoke—had reluctantly agreed.

“You’ve been here too long not to have skin in the game,” Mathias admonished Rayan as they got out of the Mercedes and headed toward the row of tumbledown houses set back from the road. “What happened last time…” They approached the house at the far end of the row, nestled in a forest of ivy and overgrown shrubs. “Choke like that again, and don’t bother showing your face tomorrow. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“If you’re serious about this, then prove it. Loyalty doesn’t mean shit unless it’s sealed in blood.” Mathias came to a stop and turned to his second. “There will be no more chances.”

“Yes, boss.”

From where they stood on the street, the building looked abandoned. Heavy wooden boards shuttered the windows, and piles of junk mail were strewn about the unmown lawn. Mathiastilted his chin toward the house. “Barry Olman. He’s been dodging his debts for months. It’s bigger than Collections now. He’s spreading rumors to rival groups, threatening to go to the cops. Word’s come from up high. We need him quiet.”

Rayan nodded, his face blank.

Mathias tested the handle on the back door and was surprised to find it unlocked. So Olman was slippery but not smart. They entered silently, Rayan ahead of him. The house was dark and in disrepair. Parts of the walls had been smashed in, and loose panels hung haphazardly from the ceiling, allowing a direct view into the attic.

As they stepped into the front room, Mathias spotted a lone figure stretched out on a tattered brown sofa. He was wrapped in a pile of blankets, and in the dimness, Mathias could just make out the top of his head and the shape of an ear. Rayan removed the gun from beneath his jacket and flicked off the safety. On the sofa, the man let out a rumbling snore, almost rousing himself. Rayan stepped over and gave the sofa leg a sharp kick, startling him awake.

“Hey, what the fuck?” The man tumbled off the sofa in a stupor and quickly got to his feet.

“Olman?” Rayan asked.

The man squinted, his eyes still smeared with sleep. “What’s it to you, asshole?”

Then it must have dawned on him. Olman hadn’t had dealings with either Rayan or Mathias—he’d been on Franco’s list—but it wouldn’t be difficult to put two and two together and recognize who they represented.

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