Passed down through her family for decades, only that morning, Cathleen Rooney had pulled the family heirloom from the attic. She had polished and buffed the silver platter until it shined, preparing it for when it would hold their Christmas turkey. Cathleen had no idea when she set it on the dining room table that afternoon, nearly two weeks before the holiday, it would end up saving all of their lives.

After locking his wife and children into a bedroom, Gus didn’t think twice. He bolted down the stairs and flew into the living room just as the saber swung. Gus didn’t know who the woman was who had just saved his family, but turnabout was more than fair, even if it cost him his life. He sprinted into the dining room, and grabbing the platter, he changed the blade's trajectory inches before it met Bennett’s neck. It was enough to spare everyone’s life, except as the blade skittered off the polished silver, it caught Gus on the face.

The pain was intense, like a searing slice of fire burning its way into his cheek, and suddenly all the terror Gus had felt and all the rage that had brewed in his belly since these hideous men had entered his home cycloned into something Gus didn’t know he possessed. With the last ounce of energy he could muster, he sent a brutal uppercut into the face of the sword-wielding addict, shattering the man’s mandible and loosening whatever teeth he had left. Gus watched as the meth head staggered backward, his eyes rolling back into his head seconds before he crumpled onto the carpet in the living room. Gus kicked the sword under the dining room table before his knees gave out, and slumping to the floor, he took Bennett and Petey with him as he fell.

Sandwiched between the two men, Bennett gathered her wits. It was a blur, and then it wasn’t. Death was inevitable, and then it wasn’t. Someone had come to her aid, someone not of her kind, someone not hired to protect, someone who should have feared her…yet didn’t.

Under Bennett was a vile human being that didn’t deserve the air he breathed, and when Petey tried to struggle out of the pile, she quieted him with one hand. Choking him just enough so he’d pass out, when Petey’s body sagged, Bennett loosened her grip and then slowly made her way out of the jumble. As she did, Bennett’s nostrils flared when the scent of blood enveloped her. She looked at her hand, now covered in blood from the cut on her bicep. A generous amount had made its way to her fingertips, but there wasn’t enough to be this enticing.