Gunnar could have easily graced the cover of a magazine for successful financiers. Clean-shaven with a conservative yet trendy hairstyle, he preferred three-piece suits, modest jewelry, and aftershave that enhanced rather than causing eyes to water. He’d only ever had one girlfriend in his life, and Gunnar married his high school sweetheart, Bridget, before his second year of college had started. Eleven months later, their first child was born, and now, Bridget was pregnant with their fourth.

Finn didn’t have a high school sweetheart. He’d had many, and that pattern hadn’t stopped upon graduation. Finn possessed the same square jaw as his brother and the same manners instilled in him by his parents, yet Finn had a naughty side. The gleam in his eye could hold whimsy, and then in a blink, the devil would appear. His smile could slip from charming to cheeky in an instant, and forever sporting a two-day-old beard, with his long blond hair swept all to one side, Finn was positively swashbuckling…and Finn knew it.

Like his brother, Finn graduated college with degrees in business and art history, but that was only a small part of their education. Guardians needed to be more than just book smart, and that’s where their father came in. Long talks about their ancestral history were a weekly occurrence, and when they weren’t cramming for exams, all the siblings attended classes in weaponry, martial arts, and self-defense, preparing them for what the future could bring, but hopefully wouldn’t. Despite the fact the siblings had acted as Bennett’s sole guardians for over ten years, not once had she ever required their aid, so when they received a group text that morning, simply saying ‘I need your help,’ Finn, Gunnar, and Lisa converged on the brownstone like a SWAT team.

“You want a cookie,” Lisa said, holding the plate out to Finn.

“They’re not oatmeal raisin disguised as chocolate chip, are they?”

“No, they’re chocolate chip,” Lisa said, moving the plate closer. “No surprises. I promise.”

“Cool,” Finn said, snagging two.

Lisa offered the plate to Gunnar, and hearing a noise behind her, she pivoted and saw Bennett sitting up and looking a lot better than she had thirty minutes earlier.

When they stormed into the apartment, all three had paled at the sight of Bennett covered in blood. The bagged supply had stemmed the flow, but trickles remained, shiny against the caked crimson surrounding the wounds. The cut on Bennett’s face was still split open from her ear to her chin, and where her shirt gaped, there was a volcano-like puncture below her clavicle, its lava comprised of more clotted redness. Now, however, with fresh blood in her system, Bennett’s wounds had already closed, and all that remained were thick, raised pink scars which would soon disappear as well.

“You’re looking better,” Lisa said, standing up.