Okay.
So listen.
They said no.
"You're staying home," Dad said. "This isn't a trip to the zoo, it's a containment operation."
Containment?
Of what?
A bear? A vampire? A snitch?
Mom kissed my forehead and said:
"You stay here, little shadow. Be good."
Excuse me?
I am NEVER good.
Which is why—
I'm now hiding in the backseat of their armored car under a tactical blanket that smells like gun oil, cinnamon, and a hint of Dad's cologne.
(This is what professionals call stealth mode.)
---
Minutes later.
We arrived at some creepy warehouse in the middle of nowhere.
Crows everywhere. Fog like a movie.
And a guy standing out front wearing sunglasses at night.
Suspicious. Immediately.
I watched as Mom and Dad got out.
She was all elegance and knife-like grace, dressed in black, her coat flaring behind her like a cape.
Dad walked beside her, no coat—just sleeves rolled up, loaded pistol in his belt, veins in his forearms like lightning.
"Give us the ledger," Mom said.
"And maybe we'll leave your jaw intact."
The man laughed.
Poor guy.
---
So, here's what happened next:
They went inside.
And I, being the incredibly disciplined, tactical genius that I am… waited.
For about four minutes.
Then I followed.
I found a side door. Kicked it. It didn't budge.
So I politely whispered:
"Please open or I'll scream bloody murder and summon seven raccoons to chew through your hinges."
It clicked open.
Okay, maybe Jules unlocked it from the van. I texted him "💀🔪open pls."
Inside was chaos.
Shouting.
Gunfire.
A table flipping.
Glass breaking.
And there—
in the middle of it all—
My parents.
Dad had one guy by the collar, slamming him against a crate.
Mom had already disarmed three people and was calmly reapplying lipstick with one hand while her boot was on some guy's throat.
Iconic.
I stepped out of the shadows and yelled:
"SURPRISE INSPECTION!"
Everyone froze.
Dad's grip on the guy tightened as he slowly turned his head to me.
"What the hell—"
"Language," Mom said.
She walked over, crouched, and looked me dead in the eyes.
"You disobeyed us."
I nodded.
"But I wore black. So it's fine."
Dad sighed. That scary, disappointed-but-weirdly-proud kind of sigh.
"Get behind me," he said. "Don't touch anything that bleeds."
---
Twenty minutes later, we were back in the car.
I had a lollipop.
One of the men gave it to me to not cry.
(As if I'd cry. I just screamed once and he panicked.)
"You're grounded," Dad muttered.
"You're impressed," I muttered back.
He didn't deny it.
Mom just kissed my head.
"You're too smart for your own good," she whispered.
I leaned back, lollipop in my mouth, tiny booted feet kicked up on the seat.
Mission: success.