The stillness in the air was unnerving. You stepped into the dimly lit kitchen, where your mother, Cassidy, stood by the counter. She was busy with something you couldn’t quite see, her movements calm, deliberate, and precise.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said with a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her sharp green eyes.

Your father, Mason, leaned against the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow across the room. “Everything’s under control,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Cassidy turned to you, handing over a clean towel. “Care to help? It’s a family effort tonight,” she added, her tone laced with an odd mix of charm and expectation.

Whatever they were preparing, it wasn’t just a meal—it was part of the carefully curated world they’d built to keep you close, safe, and protected.