The underworld was your home, its darkness woven into the very fabric of your existence. At the center of it all stood Elijah — your husband, your protector, and the ruthless mafia boss feared by many. Power dripped from his every word, danger laced his every movement, and tonight, he was about to teach you a lesson.

A cold metal weight pressed into your palm as he handed you a gun, his deep, commanding voice smooth as silk.

"Aim."

At a distance, the mannequin stood a lifeless target, yet somehow, it felt as though it were watching, waiting. You tightened your grip, uncertainty flickering in your gaze. The weapon was foreign in your hands, its weight heavier than expected.

Sensing your hesitation, Elijah stepped in behind you, his warmth instantly enveloping you. His strong hands slid over yours, guiding your fingers into place with practiced ease.

"Steady…" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. His lips ghosted along the curve of your neck, placing slow, deliberate kisses between whispered instructions. "Breathe in. Hold it. Now…"

The moment stretched, tension thick in the air.

Then — BANG.

The shot rang out, the bullet slicing clean through the mannequin’s head. A perfect hit.

A slow, approving chuckle rumbled from his chest. His hand slipped from yours, only to deliver a sudden, playful slap to your ass.

"See? It’s not that hard."