The dead bolt turned at 7:14 on a Tuesday morning, and June Holloway knew before she looked up that the man locking her diner had not come for breakfast. The sound was too deliberate. Metal sliding into metal. Final.

The war didn't begin with gunshots; it began with paper.

On Monday morning, June sat at her usual booth in Holloway House alongside Cormac Riley and his lead corporate attorney, a formidable woman named Evelyn Vance. Spread across the formica table were corporate filings, property deeds, and recorded confession transcripts.

"We have Darren's signed confession," Evelyn explained, tapping a crisp legal document. "He admitted under oath—and on video—that Gianni Moretti coerced him into forging Raymond's signature on the promissory note. Moretti wiped Darren's five-hundred-thousand-dollar Atlantic City debt in exchange for the forged deed."

June looked up from her coffee. "Is Darren safe?"

Cormac nodded quietly from across the booth. "He's currently in a safehouse in Vermont under twenty-four-hour guard. He won't be returning to Chicago, but he won't be harmed either."

June let out a quiet breath of relief. "Thank you, Cormac."

"With this confession," Evelyn continued, "the promissory note is legally void. Moretti has no claim to the icehouse. Furthermore, we are filing a federal racketeering lawsuit against Moretti’s logistics firm, freezing his corporate accounts."

"Which means Moretti is going to react," June observed calmly. "A man like that doesn't let two million dollars and a riverfront property slip through his fingers without striking back."

Right on cue, the front window of Holloway House exploded inward.

CRASH!

Glass shattered across the floor, showering the counter and booths. Two heavy brick paving stones crashed through the window, followed immediately by a glass bottle filled with gasoline, lit at the neck—a Molotov cocktail.

"DOWN!" Cormac bellowed.

In one fluid, powerful movement, Cormac leaped across the booth, grabbing June by the waist and tackling her to the floor behind the heavy steel counter just as the bottle exploded against the far wall.

Flames roared across the dining room, engulfing three wooden booths and the pie case in a wall of fire.

Smoke alarm horns shrieked through the diner. Donna screamed from the back kitchen.

Cormac’s two bodyguards pulled their weapons, rushing out the shattered front entrance to engage the drive-by attackers, gunshots echoing through the rain-slicked street outside.

Cormac held June tightly against his chest, his body shielding hers completely from the heat and flying debris. "Are you hit? June, look at me! Are you hurt?"

June coughed through the thick black smoke, looking into Cormac's panicked, fierce eyes. "I'm fine! Donna! Toby! Get out the back fire door!"

Cormac helped June to her feet, staying low beneath the rolling smoke. He grabbed the heavy industrial fire extinguisher from behind the counter, pulled the pin, and unleashed a thick cloud of white chemical foam onto the burning booths, smothering the blaze before it could reach the gas lines of the kitchen.

Within three minutes, the fire was out, but Holloway House was devastated.

Shattered glass covered the floor. The scent of burnt wood and gasoline hung heavy in the air. The front of her beloved diner—the place she and Ray had poured twenty-five years of their lives into—was scorched and ruined.

June stood amidst the wreckage, her apron covered in soot and fire foam, staring at the shattered windows.

Cormac walked up beside her, his face dark with lethal fury. His hand was bleeding where a piece of glass had cut his knuckle, but he didn't seem to notice.

"He crossed the line," Cormac said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "I'm going to end Moretti tonight."

June didn't cry. She didn't faint. She reached down, picked up a piece of broken glass from the counter, and tossed it into the trash can.