The warehouse doors exploded open with a bang, slamming against the wall. Night wasn’t dark anymore—flashing blue and red lights painted the wet ground, flickering like wild dancers. June just stood there, frozen. Her hands shook, but she didn’t drop the heavy black gun. Her white dress was a mess, streaked with dirt and blood—her own and someone else’s.
A man appeared in the doorway, coat flapping around his legs. Behind him, a swarm of police, guns drawn and ready.
“Drop the gun! Now!” someone yelled from the shadows.
June’s heart hammered so hard she thought it might burst. She stared at the man in the center. As his face came into focus, her eyes went wide. She knew him. Mr. Henderson—her old landlord when she ran the bakery. He didn’t look soft or friendly tonight. He looked like h
