Chapter Twenty
twenty
Selena
The words drop like stones in a bucket.
“Is this about the podcast?” I ask, but I know that’s not it. He wouldn’t be scared by trolls. Warren doesn’t scare easily.
“What podcast?” he questions.
I notice the knife is still on the ground from where I dropped it moments ago.
At first, I was terrified, but now, I’m just pissed off.
I walk out of the kitchen and back to the living room.
Silently, Warren follows me. Once we are seated again, this time he is beside me on the couch, I continue.
“I was interviewed on a podcast. I added our interview to my blog and brought the clips to my interview. A caller called in and warned me not to be associated with the King Mafia.”
His eyes go dark, and I see his jaw clench. Even angry, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
“Who called?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t give their name or anything. Are you the King Mafia he was alluding to?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
He doesn’t answer. The silence stretches.
“Yes. I’m Warren King, and my family is the King Mafia,” he answers. “No one other than Damon’s fiancée, Lily, knows this. If you tell anyone…” he trails off.
I know what will happen. I’m not stupid. I’ve heard stories about people who have ratted out the mafia. They are never heard from again.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I swear.
“You can’t trust the police,” he says. “Don’t talk to them. Don’t talk to anyone except for me.”
He’s giving orders, but it’s not arrogance, it’s terror, transmuted into control.
“I won’t talk to anyone,” I agree.
“You're also not safe here. Xavier is making all of us go to his property an hour away. He bought this huge compound a few years ago and wanted us all to move there. He had three houses built, but he’s the only one who has ever lived in any of them. Damon and Lily are going, and I want you to go with me,” he offers.
“Wait, I can’t just run away,” I say, aghast. “I have a job. My friend Madison will worry about me,” I try to argue.
“Selena, neither of us is safe in Sunnyvale. Pack a bag and come with me,” he orders.
I want to argue. To tell him that he’s crazy, but I can’t. He’s trusting me right now, and I know that I need to listen to him, especially since I was already threatened.
I want to cry, or run, or scream at him for dragging me into this. Instead, I just say, “I’ll do it, I’ll go with you, but I won’t like it.”
Warren laughs and shakes his head. “There’s that sass that turns me on.” “There’s more,” he says. “They’re coming for you next. Not just the cops—someone else. You can’t go home. Not tonight. Not until I say.”
He looks at me, waiting for the panic to collapse.
Instead, I feel calm, cold, and bright.
“Okay,” I say. “Where do we go?”
He grins, just a crack in the exhaustion. “I knew you were crazy.”