Page 62 of A Life Betrayed

The Russian snorted.

Mathias was struck by the realization that this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself at odds with the family, and both times, the Bratva boss had held firm, refusing to pull away. He remembered how after Junior’s attempted hit, Belkov hadbecome enraged at Mathias’s insinuation that he’d offer up his own soldiers as cannon fodder.There is still loyalty among us,he’d said.

Mathias gave a wry smile. Loyalty could be found in the strangest places. “I will give my thanks, though. For your assistance over the years.”

Belkov cocked his head, observing him carefully. Then he reached his hand across the table, and Mathias shook it. “I can’t make any promises for Bianchi or that group of yours, but for you, I’ll extend a personal guarantee. No matter where you end up, if you find yourself in need of assistance, the Bratva will answer.”

Mathias released his hand with a curt nod, and Belkov filled both their glasses to the brim. “Santé.” Mathias brought his final drink with the Russian to his lips and downed it.

When Mathias let himself into the safe house, Rayan was sitting on the sofa with a book splayed across his lap. Mathias stepped over to the small table in the corner of the living room and saw Rayan had made his move. He took in the state of the board then lifted his queen and captured the man’s rook. “Check.”

Rayan was looking at him, his expression guarded.

“But you knew that already.”

“I had a feeling,” Rayan said, closing the book and placing it down beside him. He stared at the cover, appearing to choose his words carefully. “You were right, earlier. I hesitated.”

“Rayan—”

“I thought I was still that person, but I don’t think I am anymore.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

Rayan’s gaze snapped to his face, and Mathias moved into the room. He stood across from Rayan and slipped his hands into his pockets, his fingers grazing the smooth edge of his lighter, which he traced absently with his thumb. “What do you know about Northern France?”

Rayan blinked, taken off guard. He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“There’s a property I own in Calais, a small coastal city.”

Recognition slowly registered in Rayan’s eyes. “There was always a plan B.”

Mathias sighed. “I’ve been doing this a long time. It would’ve been foolish not to have one. Just never thought I’d have to execute it.”

“So you’re leaving.” The statement filled the room, lodging in the space between them.

Mathias looked at Rayan—the swell of his lips, those unwavering brown eyes. “Will you come?”

“Of course.” There was no hesitation.

“You don’t know the first thing about the place,” Mathias scoffed.

Rayan shrugged and got to his feet. “It doesn’t matter.”

He thought about the way Rayan waited until he believed Mathias was asleep to burrow against him, how soft his hair was when wound through Mathias’s fingers, how his forehead furrowed while he was reading, silently mouthing certain words as if committing them to memory.

“Why?” Mathias asked hollowly.

“When you left me at Guillet’s, you told me my time would come,” Rayan said. “You looked at me like I had a future. And now I have one because of you.”

Mathias frowned. He remembered the exchange only vaguely. He’d been compelled by the need to offer Rayan something—a shred of hope to bookend their grim encounter. At the time, ithad felt like tossing scraps to a dog under the table, but it had clearly meant something to the man.

Rayan walked over to stand before Mathias. “You say you’re not a good person. You act like there’s nothing behind the wall. But I’ve seen it.Goodisn’t a fixed state—it can be there when you think it’s not. And when it’s someone important, it’s there in everything you do, even while you look the other way—even when no one else can see it.”

That first day in Cyprus, when Rayan had believed Mathias had come to clip him, Mathias had thought if his intentions could be so plainly mistaken—if his love, already strange and fledgling, was indistinguishable from the threat of death—then he truly must be a monster. Yet Rayan had seen him, all of him, and wanted him anyway. For two years, he’d stood by the door each time Mathias left, a look in his eyes as though willing him to turn back, and said nothing. Because they both knew that was how it had to be.

Could it be different? Does such a reality exist?Mathias had been convinced it didn’t and his very being was molded in the shape of his allegiance to the family. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Mathias said quietly.

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