Warren’s face paled. “My father,” he said with a sharp snort of bitter laughter. “Well. That sonuvabitch.” Warren’s jaw was clenched so tight his lips barely moved. Feathers rattled as his wings twitched angrily. He spun around and leaned into the wall, arms braced and head down, silent and still but for the quivering of his wings.
When Warren finally spoke, his voice sounded strangled. “I’m sorry, Tony. He shouldn’t have done that. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”