Chapter Twenty #2
“A rock, I think.”
“Someone threw a rock at you?” Mathias seethed.
“Pretty sure it wasn’t me he was throwing it at.”
The nurse checked him for signs of concussion then cleaned the wound and inspected it closely. “It’s quite deep. I will need to go ahead and close this up.” She placed a tray down on the edge of the table and retrieved a small syringe. “It’s just a local anesthetic. Do you have any allergies?”
Rayan shook his head.
The nurse pressed the needle of the syringe into the skin near the cut.
“Give it a moment to kick in.” She disposed of the syringe and returned to the tray, where she began threading a surgical needle.
When she was ready, the nurse leaned forward and pinched the skin around the wound with one hand.
“This shouldn’t take too long. Bear with me, okay? ”
Then, with the other hand, she gently inserted the needle. Rayan jolted, and his arm flew up, knocking her hands away. In her surprise, the nurse stepped backward and upended the tray, its contents clattering to the floor.
The color had drained from Rayan’s face, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. “Sorry.”
“Was there pain?”
“No.”
The nurse bent to retrieve the tray that had fallen. “I should’ve asked. Things have been so chaotic today. Do you have a phobia of needles or any medical trauma? We can offer a sedative.”
“No,” Rayan replied carefully. “I’m fine.”
It had been years, but Mathias could still conjure the look on Rayan’s face when the doctor had dug the forceps into his shoulder. He could still recall the twisted cry that had torn from the man’s throat.
“Take the sedative, Rayan.”
Rayan’s eyes met his, and he gave a resigned nod.
“All right,” the nurse said and turned to Mathias. “You can come and see him when we’re done.”
Mathias went outside to smoke. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message from Elise asking if everything was all right.
He ignored it and tossed the butt of his cigarette into a nearby receptacle.
By the doors to the emergency department, a woman paced the pavement, wailing in a foreign language.
When he was allowed back in to see Rayan, the man sported a white bandage on his forehead, and there was a soft plane to his features.
“He’s a little out of it. Give him about twenty minutes for the sedative to wear off, and then you can go. No driving, though,” the nurse instructed before drawing the curtain behind her and disappearing into the room beyond.
“Does it hurt?” Mathias asked.
Rayan shook his head groggily and reached up to touch his neck, where the scar stretched across his throat.
That was when Mathias understood. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?”
Rayan dropped his hand, and Mathias brought his fingertips to the scar. “Is this why she left him?”
It was a long time before Rayan spoke. “Child protection showed up at the ED afterward. They made it clear if she wanted to keep us, she couldn’t stay.
” There came a shout from the cubicle next door, and then a baby’s high-pitched squall filled the room.
“If it hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have left, and she wouldn’t have ended up on her own.
” Rayan swallowed hard. “It was too much. She couldn’t handle it. That’s why—”
“You don’t know why,” Mathias interjected with a shake of his head. “You’ll never know why.”
“If we’d stayed, maybe things would’ve been different.”
All this time, has he blamed himself?
Mathias moved his fingers to the hollow of Rayan’s neck.
“She did a brave thing, Rayan. She got you out.” She’d done it to protect him, a feat not all mothers were capable of.
Just look at my own. “And you can try to rearrange the past, but there’s nothing you could’ve done to make it any different. ”
“I don’t know if I believe that,” Rayan said, his voice barely a whisper.
“It’s true, whether you believe it or not.”
Rayan looked up at him, his eyes still hazy. Around them, the room clamored with voices and beeps and the hum of machines. Mathias didn’t move his hand from Rayan’s neck, the man’s steady pulse beating against his fingers.
Rayan stood under the hot water in the shower for a long time, watching the trickle of red at his feet run clear.
He hadn’t realized how much blood had caked onto his skin.
It was a relief to be rid of it. As he dressed, he was careful not to make any sudden movements.
His temple throbbed. The nurse had given him some pills for the pain, but he’d held off on taking them.
He felt woozy enough from the sedative and needed a chance to get his bearings.
When Rayan came downstairs, he found Mathias on the sofa in the living room, nursing a glass of scotch while the news flashed on the television. He’d been quiet on the drive back to the house, and Rayan could imagine he didn’t appreciate the way his day had derailed into chaos.
“Well, you got your international incident,” Mathias remarked.
Rayan stared at the images on the screen—the cops in riot gear, the black smoke rising from the camp, the mess of destruction left behind. In the ticker tape along the bottom of the segment were a series of condemnations from international aid groups, politicians, and celebrities.
“What a mess,” Rayan murmured. He sank down into a chair, and Mathias raised the remote to turn off the TV.
“They’re saying it’s only a matter of time before they’re back for the rest,” Mathias said, lifting his glass. “Surely, you knew that was coming.”
The Jungle was done for. The writing had been on the wall for a while. They’d just been too stubborn to see it. Rayan thought of all the people he saw each day at the service office. What will happen to them now?
“When they tear down the camp, there’ll be nowhere for the residents to go.”
“I suspect the city doesn’t care where they end up, as long as it’s not here.”
“Durand’s just passing on the problem. It would mean putting children, families out on the streets.”
And then Rayan’s head was no longer fuzzy. In fact, he was struck by a strange clarity. His mind caught on an idea, crazy yet potentially feasible. “We don’t need the city’s money. I’ll find a way to get it myself.”
Mathias eyed him skeptically. “I think that rock hit you harder than you thought.”
“We submitted a proposal to the council for the housing facility,” Rayan explained.
“It won’t solve the whole impossible situation, but it will help at least. The majority of funding for the build has already been secured by an EU grant.
We only needed the city to front seven million to get it off the ground. ”
“Let me guess—Durand wasn’t too keen?”
Rayan nodded. “They voted it down.”
“Seven million isn’t exactly pocket change. Even I’d be hard-pressed to magic that kind of money out of thin air.”
“We could fund it privately, reach out to donors here and abroad.” Rayan gestured at the blackened TV. “You saw the backlash. There will be people who want to contribute. We wouldn’t have anything to do with the city.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Mathias downed the rest of his drink. “You’ll need planning approval from the council, permits for construction. You can try to skirt them, but as soon as the city figures out what you’re using the building for, they’ll shut you down.”
Rayan frowned. There was the rub—Durand’s opinions on the issue were too entrenched. Even if they removed all the obstacles and required nothing from the council, the mayor would still fight them on principle.
But Rayan was done waiting for permission. Durand’s word wasn’t the end of it. Rayan’s time with the family had taught him that everyone could be persuaded one way or another. While intimidation was off the table, there were plenty of other routes they could take to get the mayor to reconsider.
“Then I’ll make him change his mind.”
“With your bleeding heart?” Mathias asked.
“Can’t very well use my fists.”
“Only two things speak to men like Durand—money and public sway.”
“Laurent has contacts. We can get other organizations to petition the council, put pressure on him that way.”
“And the money? You’ll just go around with your hand out?”
Rayan bristled at his tone. Granted, it was different from how they’d gotten things done in the past. But that wasn’t an option anymore. “That’s how this works. Unless we call in another favor with the Bratva and see if they can extort Durand into submission.”
Mathias scowled, and Rayan felt a splinter of remorse. The man had gone out on a limb by calling Belkov to help locate Farhan.
“No one gives a shit about a tiny town in France with a camp full of refugees,” Mathias said. “It’s a drop in the fathomless ocean of pain and suffering—”
“I give a shit,” Rayan snapped.
“I’m well aware,” Mathias growled. “I just spent the afternoon standing around while you got your head sewn up.” He slammed his empty glass down on the coffee table. “What’s next—someone shanks you for food rations? I’ll be sure to show up in time to watch them shove your guts back in.”
He stood and stalked into the kitchen. Mathias’s irritation, his silence in the car—it was stupid of Rayan not to realize. He got to his feet and followed Mathias into the kitchen.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said as Mathias opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.
Mathias scoffed and placed the bottle down on the kitchen counter. His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t worried.”
“My mistake.”
The sedative had well and truly worn off, and Rayan’s forehead ached where the nurse had stitched up the skin. He recalled the sense of relief he’d felt at the hospital. He had given voice to his darkest fear, and Mathias had refused to accept his guilt, offering clemency instead.
“Thanks for coming to get me.”
Mathias sighed, and the lines of anger on his face softened. “Next time, throw a fucking rock back.”