The Dodge minivan rolled smoothly down a quiet, tree-lined street in suburban Illinois.

Ava pressed her face against the cold window. She watched the neat lawns and white picket fences pass by. The absolute normalcy of it all made her chest ache with relief.

The van turned into a cul-de-sac and pulled into the driveway of a plain, two-story house with a double garage.

Jerimiah turned the key, killing the engine. He looked over his shoulder and gave Ava a goofy, wide smile.

Ava grabbed her small, worn backpack. She stepped out of the van and followed him up the concrete steps to the porch.

Jerimiah slid his key into the deadbolt. Before he could turn it, the front door was violently yanked open from the inside.

A beautiful woman with wavy blonde hair and a floral apron stood in the doorway. It was Carrie.

Carrie's eyes bypassed Jerimiah and locked instantly onto Ava. The air around her seemed to drop ten degrees. Her pupils dilated.

Carrie grabbed Jerimiah by the collar of his flannel shirt. With terrifying, unnatural strength, she jerked the large man into the hallway. Ava couldn't even process the movement.

The front door slammed shut behind Ava. Carrie shoved Jerimiah against the wall, her voice a lethal, low hiss.

"Are you out of your mind?" Carrie snarled, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper that barely carried over the threshold. "You brought an unvetted variable directly to our front door? We don't run a daycare for strays!"

Carrie's right hand instinctively dropped to the deep pocket of her apron. The distinct, sharp outline of a ceramic tactical knife pressed against the fabric.

Ava stood frozen on the welcome mat. The harsh, unwelcoming tone hit her ears. Her backpack slipped from her fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

Jerimiah threw both hands in the air, pressing himself flat against the wallpaper. "It's an adoption! It's legal!" he hissed back, frantic.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out the stamped paperwork, holding it out like a shield.

Carrie snatched the papers. Her eyes darted across the ink, scanning the signatures and the state seal with mechanical precision.

The second she verified the document, the suffocating, murderous aura vanishing completely.

Carrie spun around. Her face broke into a massive, glowing, overly enthusiastic smile.

She lunged forward. Before Ava could flinch, Carrie wrapped her arms around her, crushing her in a bone-snapping hug.

Ava's face was smashed against Carrie's chest. She couldn't breathe, but the intense, radiating warmth of the woman's body made her stomach flutter.

Carrie cupped Ava's cheeks, kissing her forehead repeatedly. "My sweet little angel!" she cooed, her voice dripping with sugar.

Ava's cheeks burned hot. "Mom," she whispered awkwardly.

Carrie let out a high-pitched squeal of pure joy.

Before she could hug Ava again, a faint, almost imperceptible sound came from the stairs.

Ava looked up. A boy, maybe ten years old, stood on the landing. He had pale skin and pitch-black, dead eyes. He casually tossed a heavy steel ball bearing in his hand, catching it without looking.

Carrie turned. "Cody, come down here and say hello to your sister," she ordered. Her tone was soft, but it carried an edge of absolute authority.

Cody walked down the stairs. His footsteps made zero sound. He stopped in front of Ava, his eyes scanning her from head to toe like a barcode reader.

"Her bone density is below average," Cody stated, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "She is a liability."

Ava blinked, her mouth falling open. She assumed it was just a weird, mean-kid insult.

Carrie's hand shot out and slapped the back of Cody's head with a loud smack. "Stop analyzing her," Carrie scolded, grabbing Ava's hand and pulling her toward the living room.

The long oak table in the dining room groaned under the weight of a massive American dinner. Platters of roasted ribs, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese steamed in the warm light.

Ava sat rigidly in her chair. She gripped her fork, her mouth watering as she stared at the food.

Carrie aggressively scooped a massive pile of meat onto Ava's plate. "You're too skinny, sweetheart. Eat."

At the head of the table, Jerimiah picked up a long, wicked-looking boning knife. He pressed the blade into the rack of ribs.

Ava watched him. His movements were terrifyingly precise. The blade slid through the meat and separated the joints without making a single scraping sound against the bone.

Ava swallowed hard. The IT guy might look clumsy, but he was surprisingly good in the kitchen.

Across from her, Cody sat perfectly straight. He lifted his fork, chewed exactly twenty times, swallowed, and repeated the motion like a programmed machine.

Desperate to break the heavy silence, Ava cleared her throat. "Do I have other brothers?"

Cody set his fork down. He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

"Gideon is the oldest," Cody recited in his flat, monotone voice. "He is a doctor. He specializes in anatomy and helping people... when their bodies can't be fixed anymore."

Ava nodded slowly. A doctor. That sounded respectable. Safe.

"Collin is the second," Cody continued. "He works for the police department. His primary function is asking questions. He is very good at getting people to tell the truth when they don't want to."

Ava's eyes lit up. A cop. Her new family was practically a fortress of justice.

"Deegan is the third," Cody said. For the first time, a flicker of disgust crossed his face. "He is a neurotic, sickly heir. He lives with our grandfather at the estate. He is a volatile explosive hazard."

Ava pictured a coughing, spoiled rich kid throwing tantrums. She made a mental note to stay out of his way.

Carrie smiled brightly, cutting Cody off as she set a hot apple pie on the table. "We are a very loving family, Ava."

After dinner, Carrie took Ava by the hand and led her upstairs.

Carrie pushed open the door to the bedroom. Ava gasped.

The room was an explosion of high-saturation pink. Pink walls, pink ruffled curtains, and a bed buried under dozens of massive stuffed animals. It was a violent, over-the-top attempt at a princess room.

It was tacky. It was loud. But Ava's throat tightened, and hot tears spilled over her eyelashes. It was hers.

She turned and threw her arms around Carrie's waist. "Thank you," she sobbed.

Carrie's eyes softened completely. She stroked Ava's hair.

An hour later, Ava was asleep. Carrie pulled the pink door shut. The second the latch clicked, the maternal warmth vanished from her face.

Carrie walked down the stairs and headed straight for the basement. She pulled open a heavy, soundproof steel door disguised as a bookshelf.

Inside, Jerimiah sat at a workbench, meticulously cleaning the slide of a Glock 19. Cody sat at a dual-monitor setup, typing lines of encrypted code.

Carrie pulled up a metal folding chair. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Emergency protocol," Carrie stated, her voice cold and sharp. "From this second forward, everyone in this house is a normal, boring civilian."

She pointed a finger at Jerimiah. "No more clothes smelling like copper and blood in the laundry room."

She turned her glare to Cody. "And you. Stop using sociopathic terminology in front of your sister."

Jerimiah and Cody exchanged a brief look. Facing the absolute, lethal dominance of the family matriarch, both men slowly raised their hands in surrender.

Morning sunlight sliced through the living room blinds, casting warm stripes across the carpet.

Carrie had burst into Ava's room at dawn, dragging her out of bed. Now, Ava stood in the hallway, wearing a stiff denim skirt with lace trim and two tight pigtails.

Carrie patted Ava's cheek, looking incredibly proud of her work, before heading downstairs to cook bacon.

Ava let out a heavy sigh. She walked into the living room. Cody sat cross-legged on the sofa, staring at a scrambled Rubik's cube. His dark eyes were intensely focused.

Ava sat down next to him, trying to build a normal sibling bond.

"Those are really hard," Ava said casually. "I never figured out how to solve one."

Cody didn't look up. His long fingers suddenly blurred. A sharp, rapid-fire series of plastic clicks filled the air.

Click-clack-snap.

Less than three seconds later, Cody slammed the perfectly solved cube onto the glass coffee table.

He turned his head slowly. "Spatial logic reconstruction. Time elapsed: two point eight seconds." He stared dead into Ava's eyes. "Your cognitive processing speed is severely defective."

Ava choked on her own breath. Her mouth formed a hard line. This kid was a complete nightmare.

She stood up, deciding not to argue with a ten-year-old psychopath, and walked down the hall toward Jerimiah's study. She needed to see the one normal person in this house.

The study door was cracked open. The rapid clatter of a mechanical keyboard drifted out.

Ava pushed the door open quietly, wanting to surprise him.

She poked her head in. Jerimiah sat in a leather chair, his back to the door. In front of him were three massive, curved monitors.

Waterfalls of green code cascaded down the left screen. The center screen displayed a high-resolution, live satellite tracking map.

Jerimiah held a thick, heavy hardcover book in his left hand.

Ava took a step closer and read the title aloud. "Advanced Server Farm Thermal Cloaking and Anti-Surveillance?"

Jerimiah's entire body flinched. It was a violent, full-body jolt.

He slammed the book shut. His right hand shot under the desk, his fingers instinctively hitting a hidden mechanical switch mounted beneath the wood, preparing to purge the system.

He realized the voice belonged to Ava. He froze.

In a fraction of a second, Jerimiah forced his facial muscles to relax into his usual, dull expression. He spun his chair around.

At the exact same moment, his left foot stomped down on a red pedal hidden under the desk.

The screens flickered. The satellite maps and code vanished, instantly replaced by bright, colorful stock market graphs and a massive game of Solitaire.

Ava blinked, pointing at the heavy book in his lap. "What are you reading that for?"

Jerimiah cleared his throat. He pushed his thick glasses up his nose. Sweat prickled at his hairline.

"Well, kiddo," Jerimiah stammered, his brain working in overdrive. "Servers get really hot. If I don't hide the heat signature, the EPA drones will spot it. The fines for energy waste are huge."

Ava's eyes widened in understanding. Of course. He was a struggling IT guy trying to save money on his electric bill by dodging government regulations. It made perfect sense.

"That's really smart, Dad," Ava said, looking at him with genuine admiration.

Jerimiah stared at her bright, trusting eyes. A cold drop of sweat rolled down his spine. He let out a shaky breath, thanking God for his reflexes.