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.

Ava pulled a small wooden stool over and sat down right next to Jerimiah's desk.

She stared at the bouncing stock graphs and the Solitaire cards. It looked so boring. So safe.

After the blood-soaked, anxiety-ridden nightmare of her past life with the Savage family, this dull basement office felt like paradise.

Ava rested her chin in her hands. She looked up at Jerimiah, her eyes shining with determination.

"Dad," Ava said seriously. "I've decided. When I grow up, I want to be an IT manager just like you."

Jerimiah stopped clicking his mouse.

"I can help you run the servers," Ava continued. "We can figure out how to save even more money on the electric bill together."

Jerimiah stared at her. A strange, heavy lump formed in his throat.

He was a man who had built an empire in the criminal underworld. He had ordered hits and toppled syndicates. But hearing this little girl say she wanted to follow in his fake, pathetic footsteps filled him with an overwhelming sense of warmth.

His eyes grew slightly damp. He reached out with his large hand and ruffled her pigtails. "That sounds great, kid. I'll leave the whole business to you."

A sharp, icy scoff echoed from the hallway outside the cracked door.

Before Jerimiah could turn his head, a silver flash tore through the air.

The sound of tearing wind was followed by a violently loud THWACK.

A solid steel tactical throwing knife buried itself three inches deep into the solid oak doorframe, exactly one inch from Jerimiah's right ear.

The red tassel attached to the handle vibrated furiously, emitting a low, deadly hum.

A lock of Jerimiah's hair, cleanly sliced by the blade, drifted down onto his shoulder.

Jerimiah's body turned to stone. The sentimental tears dried up instantly. Cold terror gripped his chest.

Ava screamed. She leaped off the stool, her heart hammering against her ribs.

The door swung wide open. Carrie stood in the hallway. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. Her arm was still raised in the throwing position.

There was no way her perfect daughter was going to rot in a basement fixing computers.

Carrie saw the sheer terror on Ava's pale face. Reality crashed back into her brain. The normal protocol.

The murderous rage vanished from Carrie's face in a microsecond. She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands, looking utterly horrified.

She rushed into the room, grabbed the handle of the knife, and yanked it out of the wood. With a flick of her wrist, she hid the blade up her sleeve.

Carrie dropped to her knees in front of Ava. "Oh my god, honey, I am so sorry!" she cried, her voice trembling with fake panic.

"What was that?" Ava gasped, her chest heaving.

"It's a replica from my self-defense class!" Carrie lied smoothly, rushing forward with an expression of exaggerated horror. "One of my students brought it in, and I didn't realize how heavy and sharp the edges were! Oh my gosh, I was just trying to juggle it and it slipped. I am so clumsy, I could have really hurt someone!"

Ava looked at the deep, splintered gash in the solid oak doorframe. Rubber didn't do that.

But she looked into Carrie's wide, apologetic, loving eyes. Ava's brain violently rejected the truth. She needed this family to be normal.

She's just really strong, Ava told herself, forcing her heart rate down. It's a bad neighborhood. She has to practice.

Ava nodded slowly, swallowing the lump of fear. "It's okay, Mom."

Carrie let out a massive sigh of relief. She stood up. She shot Jerimiah a look that promised a slow, agonizing death.

She grabbed Jerimiah by the collar of his flannel shirt. "Jerimiah, honey," she smiled sweetly at Ava. "Your father and I need to have a quick adult conversation in the hallway."