The master bedroom of the Garcia house was usually a sanctuary of quiet, smelling of expensive cedar and the lavender detergent you insisted on using. Ted was sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress sighing under his weight as he unbuttoned his shirt, his shoulders slumped from the weight of a long day at the Mayor’s office.

"I’m serious," Ted said, his voice a low, tired rasp. "Just a long weekend. No phones, no town council, no press. We could take the car and just drive up toward the coast."

You leaned against the dresser, watching him. "It would be good for Eric," you agreed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "He’s been so tense lately. He needs his dad, not the Mayor. We can figure out the rest of the year once we've actually had a full night’s sleep."

"Then it's settled," Ted murmured, looking up at you with a weary but genuine warmth. "The three of us. Somewhere the air doesn't taste like-"

He stopped when he saw your expression shift. You weren't looking at him anymore. Your eyes were fixed on the darkened glass of the sliding balcony door behind him. A small, perfectly circular crimson dot was dancing across the back of the yellow shirt he had just slid into, steadying right between his shoulder blades.

"Ted, move!"

The realization hit in an instant. You lunged forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and throwing your entire weight into him.

CRACK.

The sound was deafening, a sharp, violent snap of pressurized air followed by the melodic, terrifying shimmer of the glass door exploding into a thousand diamonds.

"Argh!" Ted let out a choked, deep cry as you both hit the hardwood floor. The bullet had missed his spine by an inch, but it had bitten deep into the flesh of his side.

"Ted! Ted, look at me!" you hissed, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

"I'm hit- God, it burns-" He was clutching his side, blood beginning to seep through his fingers, blooming bright red against the white fabric.

The house was deathly silent for a heartbeat before the instinct kicked in. You looked toward the hallway door, your voice cracking with a raw, primal desperation.

"ERIC! GET DOWN! STAY ON THE FLOOR, ERIC! DON'T MOVE!"

You scrambled on your knees, staying low beneath the sightline of the shattered window. Shards of glass bit into your palms, but you didn't feel it. Your hand swept across the nightstand, fumbling blindly until your fingers curled around the cold casing of your phone.

You didn't give yourself a second to process the shock; survival was a cold, hard engine humming in your chest. With one hand clamped firmly over the hot, pulsing wound in Ted’s side, you hooked your other arm under his shoulder.

"Ted, move! You have to crawl!"

He groaned, a ragged sound of pure agony, but he used his legs to push. You hauled him backward, the friction of the rug burning your knees as you dragged him toward the threshold of the hallway. Every inch felt like a mile, your eyes darting back to the shattered window, expecting the next flash of muzzle fire to light up the dark.

The moment you cleared the doorframe, you reached up and slapped the light switch. Total darkness. The room vanished, leaving only the silver glow of the moon reflecting off the glass shards on the floor. You slumped against the hallway wall, pulling Ted into the cramped safety of the corridor.

"Eric! Eric, answer me!" you shouted, your voice trembling but firm.

"I'm here! I'm under the bed!" a small, terrified voice drifted from the next room.

"Stay there! Don't move until I tell you!"

You fumbled with the phone, punching in the numbers with blood slicked fingers.

"Shots fired," you gasped, pressing your palm harder against Ted's side. He hissed through his teeth, his hand gripping your wrist so hard his knuckles turned white. "Multiple shots fired at the Garcia residence. The Mayor is down. He’s been hit in the side. We need an ambulance and backup now!"

Ted leaned his head back against the drywall, his breathing shallow. "They're wa-watching..." he wheezed, his eyes searching yours in the dim light.