At the mention of the Lions, my thoughts flash back to the bloodied bodies in my nightmare. I momentarily look away, overcome once again by a wave of guilt for having gotten Ash involved in all of this. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. “Are you saying you think the Lions are after me and my dad for a reason other than my parents’ Romeo and Juliet defiance?”

“I do,” he says. “Think about it. Your mother was a member of the Bear Family, and your father was a Lion. Twenty-five years ago, they fell in love and decided to desert their respective Families, abdicate their leadership positions, and go into hiding.” He pauses and looks at me gently. “And then the Lion assassins killed your mother when you were…?”

“Six,” I say, readjusting my position on the couch.

“So eleven years ago,” Ash continues. “But between then and last month, when your aunt was killed and your father sent you here, were you aware of any threats from the Lions?”

I scrunch my forehead, scanning memories of my childhood, looking for any period where my dad seemed stressed or out of sorts, anything that might indicate that the Lions were after us. I shake my head. “Honestly, I don’t think so. Dad would have moved us if there were. I mean, we had a rough patch after Mom died, of course, but other than that, we were happy and our life was simple.” My voice quiets as I realize I’ve just put happy in past tense.

Ash is nodding, as if I’ve confirmed his suspicion. “You see, the events are spread out. Your parents’ initial disappearance, your mother’s death, and your aunt’s recent murder,” he says.

I watch him for a moment, unsure. “What are you saying, that you don’t think the Lions were after us the whole time?”

“I’m not saying it isn’t possible, but it would have required committing resources to the effort for twenty-five years straight. It is more likely that each attack was instigated by some other event, something that gave the Lions insight or intel about your family’s movements. Correct me if I’m wrong, but from what I’ve gleaned from our previous conversations, you’ve lived in the same small town your entire life, somewhere remote, where you weren’t in hiding, but well integrated into the community.” He waits for me to contradict him, and when I don’t, he continues. “To me, that doesn’t sound like you were under siege; it sounds like you were safe.”

I chew on my thumbnail, scouring his theory for fault points and finding none. “Okay, so let’s say you’re right,” I reply. “Then how did they find my aunt Jo? What changed?”

“My point exactly—something changed,” Ash says. “And I imagine the reason is directly tied to whatever your father is doing at this very moment.”