They were, without exception, striking women.
Each carried herself with the kind of confidence that turned heads—not the loud, demanding confidence of those who needed to be noticed, but the deeper kind, the kind that came from knowing exactly what one was capable of and feeling no need to prove it.
The sudden presence of armed, beautiful strangers in my household did not sit well with my wife or my daughters.
The first night was filled with sharp questions and suspicious glances across the dinner table, with silences that stretched too long and answers that came too short.
My wife's smile was polite but thin—a smile that said I am watching you without saying anything at all.
My daughters spoke in careful, measured tones that made their discomfort obvious to anyone paying attention—and I was paying attention, had been paying attention since the moment the Apex Girls had appeared at my door.
