I pull the last pair of pants aside and on the final hanger is my dad’s gray wool scarf—actually two of my dad’s gray wool scarves. I frown. He’s worn this scarf through my entire childhood and now I come to find out that it’s not even special—there are two. I grab the fabric of the first one, running my fingers along it. At the very bottom is a frayed edge. I instantly have a flashback to the game my mom used to play with me—the one where she would make me distinguish between two seemingly identical objects.

“November?” Ines says, now staring at me.

“I think”—my throat is suddenly parched—“this is my mom’s.” I pull it off the hanger, holding it close to my body. “I just don’t know why it would be…” I stop, my fingers finding the tag and a small bump inside the fabric.

I separate the tag fabric and sure enough, folded inside is a small piece of paper with my dad’s handwriting.

“Got it!” I say, and Ines smiles.

She quickly folds the blanket exactly as it was when we came in. I wrap my mom’s scarf around my neck and slip the note in my pocket. I close the armoire doors and zip the duffel bag, placing it where I found it. In a flash we’re all out the door, down the stairs, and walking to the car.

I stick my hand in my pocket to text Layla.

Me: Dad captured. Found note.

We jump in the car and Ash pulls away from the curb.

“Okay, let’s hear it,” Aarya says from the backseat.

I take the small piece of paper out of my pocket, unfolding it. Unlike the other notes where the handwriting is neat, this one appears to have been written quickly. Did my dad know he was in trouble when he wrote it?

I read aloud:

The tall bouncer at the pub also guards the Lion estate. He goes there directly after his shift at 2 a.m. I love you, my sweet girl.

I stare at the last line. While I know it’s not the important part of the message, I read it over and over, swallowing back the emotion that threatens to come.

Aarya whistles. “I don’t know whether this is cause for celebration or the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“The Lion estate,” I say. “That’s Jag’s house, right?”

“Yes,” Ash says, stopping at a light. “But a Family estate is more than a house. A number of Family members live there in addition to the head family, guards, and staff. The properties are large, with meeting rooms, a great hall, and a dungeon.”

My heart races. A dungeon. “And the Lion estate is where you think the Ferryman took my dad?” I ask.