CHAPTER 7: THE DEVIL'S BULLET

The elevator doors slid shut, sealing June inside the cold, metallic box. The air was thick with the scent of polished floors and her own mounting panic. She stared at her phone, her thumb pressed hard against the glass, where Leo’s sleeping face glowed softly. He looked so peaceful, utterly unaware that his own grandmother hovered nearby, all shadow and menace, ready to strike.

“Why?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, thin and unfamiliar. “He’s your grandson, Eleanor. Dante’s your son. How can you do this to your own family?”

On the screen, Eleanor Romano’s lips curled into a sharp, cruel smile. She dangled a tiny silver remote in her hand, the gesture taunting. “Dante’s weak, June. A Romano who chooses love over power doesn’t deserve to lead. If he survives, he’ll hand the company over to you—a nobody from a bakery. I built this empire from nothing. I won’t stand by and watch you tear it down.”

“You’re working with the Vancents,” June said, her fist tightening around the heavy gun hidden in her pocket. The metal seemed heavier than ever, pressing into her skin with every heartbeat.

“The Vancents?” Eleanor dismissed her with a flick of her wrist. “They’re just hungry mutts. I let them have Leo to keep Dante distracted. Now, you have a choice: kill Dante tonight in the hospital, make it look like his heart simply gave out, and I’ll return Leo to you. You’ll be rich, in charge of everything. But if you refuse...” She shrugged, the motion cold and casual. “The Vancents will take Leo somewhere you’ll never find him.”

The phone went dark, the screen a black void.

The elevator landed with a quiet, subdued bump. June stepped out into the underground parking lot, her breath escaping in small clouds in the freezing air. Her chest tightened with every step. For five years, she’d let people push her around—her father, Dante, the entire world. She had always given in, always folded beneath the pressure.

But not tonight. As she walked toward the waiting black car, something fierce and unyielding burned inside her. She pulled the gun out from under her dress and stared at it. It was just a tool, cold and impersonal, but right now, it was the only thing she had.

“I won’t let you take him,” she whispered into the shadows, her voice trembling but resolute.

Suddenly, headlights blazed, blinding her with their intensity. June raised the gun, her hands shaking but her gaze unwavering.

“Don’t shoot! It’s me!”

Marcus emerged from a silver car, his arms lifted in surrender. His eyes darted from the gun to June’s face. The softness was gone now. He saw what she had become—a woman ready for war.

“I thought you were taking Dante to the hospital,” June said, her voice flat and steely.

“He’s there. My team is guarding him,” Marcus replied, stepping closer. “But June, my mother’s got eyes everywhere. I saw her slip out of the party—she didn’t go home. She went to the old Romano warehouse on the waterfront.”

June’s heart thundered in her chest, each beat like a warning. “Leo’s there. She told me to kill Dante, Marcus. She wants to turn me into a murderer so she can have me under her control forever.”

Marcus looked down, shame etched across his face. “She planned all of this. She even poisoned Dante’s tea to fake a heart attack. She never wanted him to marry you. She knew you’d change him.”

June wanted to break down, to let the weight of it all crush her, but she held herself together. Dante wasn’t just sick—his own mother was trying to kill him. Now, she faced an impossible choice: go after Leo and risk Eleanor killing him the moment she arrived, or stay with Dante and lose Leo forever.

“Take me to the warehouse,” June said, her words a command.

“June, it’s a trap,” Marcus warned. “She’s got killers waiting there.”

“I don’t care.” June slid into Marcus’s car without hesitation. “She thinks I’m weak. She thinks I’ll do whatever she says. She’s wrong.”

They sped through the New York streets, the city blurring past, until they reached the water’s edge where the air reeked of salt and decay. The warehouse rose before them, massive and rusted, huddled in the darkness like some monstrous thing.

June checked the gun again. She didn’t really know how to use it, but she knew how to pull a trigger when it mattered.

“Stay here,” she told Marcus, her voice low.

“No,” he replied, pulling out his own gun. “He’s my nephew too.”

They moved together through the shadows, their footsteps barely making a sound against the wet concrete. Two guards stood at the door, laughing and smoking, oblivious to the danger lurking nearby. June crouched behind a stack of crates, her white silk dress catching the faint light.

She spotted a metal pipe on the ground. The gun would be too loud, too soon. She pointed to the left; Marcus nodded in understanding.

He tossed a rock to the right. The sound echoed—clang.

The guards turned, alert. “What was that?”

As they moved toward the noise, June sprang out, swinging the pipe with all her strength, smashing it into the first guard’s legs. He crashed to the ground, crying out in pain. Marcus tackled the second guard, slamming him hard against the wall.

June didn’t stop, didn’t pause to breathe. She shoved open the steel door and ran inside. 

The warehouse was packed with giant shipping boxes everywhere, stacked so high it felt like walking through a maze. June’s heart hammered in her chest. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

“June... you’re early.”

Eleanor’s voice crackled from the speakers above. June glanced up, but all she saw was darkness.

“I didn’t hear a gunshot at the hospital,” Eleanor said, and her disappointment was obvious. “So, you’ve decided to lose your son?”

“Where is he, Eleanor?” June’s voice echoed as she spun around, gun raised. “Show yourself! You talk about power, but you’re hiding in the dark like a coward!”

Suddenly, a bright light snapped on at the end of the hall.

There was Leo, sitting in a tiny wooden chair, tied up with silky ribbons—pretty, almost ridiculous. He wasn’t crying, just staring at a TV showing cartoons, like he’d slipped into a dream.

“Leo!” June screamed.

She bolted toward him, but a thick glass wall slid down from the ceiling, slamming between them. Bang! June smacked right into it.

On the other side, Eleanor stepped out, gun aimed at Leo’s head.

“You shouldn’t have come, June,” she said, cold as ice. “Now I have to clean up your mess. I’ll kill the boy, then tell the police you did it because you lost your mind. Dante will be so heartbroken, he’ll probably die right there. I win.”

June’s eyes locked on her son. He finally noticed her, turned his little head, and whispered, “Mommy?” Tears welled up. “Mommy, I want to go home.”

June felt her heart shatter. She pressed her hands to the glass—solid, bulletproof. No way through, no way to shoot Eleanor, no way to reach Leo.

“Wait!” June yelled. She dropped to her knees, put the gun on the ground, and slid it away. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll do it. I’ll go back to the hospital. I’ll kill Dante. Just let me hold Leo—just for a minute. Please.”

Eleanor laughed, mean and sharp. “That’s the June I remember. Weak. Pathetic. Alright, one minute.”

She pressed a button, and the glass wall started to rise.

As it lifted, Eleanor moved closer, gun still pointed at Leo. June stayed on her knees, head bowed, looking beaten.

But her hand, hidden under her white dress, gripped a small, sharp knife—the cake-decorating kind. It was the only weapon she truly knew how to use.

Eleanor stopped in front of her, sneering. “Say goodbye to your life, June.”

In a flash, June lunged. She didn’t go for the gun—she grabbed Eleanor’s arm and drove the knife into her wrist.

Eleanor screamed, dropping the gun.

June didn’t let up. She tackled Eleanor, pinning her to the ground. She wasn’t a quiet bakery girl anymore—she was a mother fighting for her child. She smashed her fist into Eleanor’s face with everything she had.

“Marcus! Get Leo!” June shouted.

Marcus darted from the shadows, cut the ribbons, and scooped up Leo.

June got to her feet, out of breath, staring down at Eleanor clutching her bleeding wrist. June snatched the gun off the floor and aimed it at Eleanor’s chest.

“It’s over, Eleanor,” June said, her voice steady. “You lost.”

But Eleanor started to laugh—a wild, unhinged sound.

“You think you’ve won?” she spat, nodding toward a small camera on the wall. “This is streaming live to the Romano Board of Directors. They just watched you attack me. Saw you with a gun. And guess what? The hospital just sent them a message—Dante Romano’s heart stopped.”

June’s vision went black. “What?”

“I never needed you to kill him, June,” Eleanor whispered, her smile wicked. “The poison I gave him did the job. He’s dead. And now, you’re a kidnapper and a murderer, all caught on video. You have the boy... but your life is over.”

June stared at the camera, then at Leo, then at the faraway door. Police sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer. Marcus looked at her, face pale as a ghost.

Was Dante really dead? Or was this just Eleanor’s last, cruel trick?

The warehouse doors crashed open, flooding the room with light. A shadow stepped inside—a man June never thought she’d see again.

Was he here to save her, or was he just another threat, ready to take Leo away?