My heart beats faster, making it harder to breathe inside this tight dress. I don’t know what’s safe to tell him and what isn’t. But it’s not like I can ask him to wait while I go confer with Ash, either. “Christopher’s younger brother was working at Academy Absconditi. He’s dead,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady and confident.

He sighs, like I’m predictably disappointing. “I’ll tell you what I told the last person who came here looking for him. No. Now leave an old man to enjoy his drink without prattling on.”

My heart jumps into my throat. Someone else came here looking for my dad? Brendan’s threat about my father rings in my thoughts.

Angus smiles a satisfied smile. “And now I know you were unaware others were following him, which only solidifies my first impression—that you are green and have nothing to offer.”

I take a huge gulp of cider, placing the large glass down so hard that it sloshes. “I killed Christopher’s brother,” I say, even though it’s not exactly the truth.

“Right,” he says, and half laughs.

“Because I’m Christopher’s daughter,” I say with force. And as they say in poker, I’m now all in.

The old man stops his drink halfway to his mouth and turns to look at me, dead serious, examining my every feature. His gaze is uncomfortable, but I know breaking eye contact right now would make me appear to be lying.

“You may not know me, sir. But if you knew my mother, Matilde, you know I look like her,” I say, gaining confidence and lifting my chin. “Now if you know something about where my dad is, it’s time to say it. I think I’ve more than fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

He continues to stare at me for so long that I worry the whisky got the better of him. But whatever he sees on my face must convince him I’m telling the truth, because after a painfully long stare-off he nods and grunts. But when he still doesn’t speak, I begin to second-guess myself, convinced that he doesn’t believe me and he’s just going to shut me out.

“I know—” I start, but he cuts me off with a hard look.

He subtly leans closer, reeking of alcohol. “For those…in the know,” he says, picking his words carefully, “Jag has placed a bounty on Christopher’s head. More if he’s alive, but a good healthy sum either way.”

It takes all my self-control not to fly off my stool. Dead or alive. I grip the bar harder than I should and take another big sip of cider. I’ve been entirely focused on the Lions as our enemy, but if there’s a high-priced bounty on my dad’s head, anyone from any Family might be after him.