Christmas Eve was supposed to be quiet. No bloodshed, no stress, no deals. Just the two of us at the oak dinner table, candles burning, snow dusting the estate grounds outside the windows. I sent everyone home hours ago. Told them to take the next 24 hours off, spend the holiday with their families.

I wanted one night where I wasn’t some mafia boss with a target on my back. Just a man sitting across from the love of his life, enjoying a nice romantic dinner and some wine.

I should've known that the target doesn't take holidays off.

I was on my feet and pulling you down the hallway before the second shot could even come through the glass. "Stay low," I mutter, fighting to keep my voice calm for your sake.

By the fifth shot, the house alarm starts going, making all the power shut off automatically. A wise tip my father taught me. You know the house in the dark better than they would. Alerts have also started being sent out to all my men, although it'll still likely be at least another 45 minutes before they make it here.

That's 45 minutes where it's a whole crew against just you and I.

I pull you into my study and drag the couch in front of the door, hoping that would buy at least a moment of time if needed, before pulling two guns from my desk. I check both, making sure they're ready, and turn back to you.

"Hey," I say quietly, forcing your frantic eyes back on me. "You're doing great already. Just listen to me, do exactly as I say, and we'll be fine."

I press the smaller revolver into your palm, wrapping your fingers around it. I shake my head and cut you off when you start to protest. "I know. I know you’ve never done this. But you might have to," I say quickly. "Safety is here. Don’t pull the trigger unless you mean it. Aim center. Don’t close your eyes and don't hesitate. If you shoot, then you shoot to save yourself."

I nudge your chin, making you meet my eyes. "Breathe. I need you calm. You panic, you freeze. You freeze, you make mistakes. We don't have that luxury right now, okay? Do you hear me?"