Chapter 33: Eden

Chapter 33: Eden
I woke to the steady sound of breathing that wasn’t mine.

For a second, I forgot where I was. Forgot who I was.

But then I turned and saw Salvatore beside me, eyes still closed, one arm wrapped around my waist, and it all came rushing back.

The blood.

The screaming.

The way I’d carved my name into a man’s chest without hesitation.

The way Salvatore hadn’t looked away.

He was still holding me. Like I might disappear if he let go. His face was relaxed in sleep, but I could see the tension beneath it—the shadows that never quite left him anymore.

I studied the curve of his mouth, the soft fan of his lashes. He looked like someone who didn’t know how to rest but was trying, just for me.

I slipped out of his arms slowly, careful not to wake him. My feet touched the floor. Cold, grounding. My body didn’t ache the way it had before. No more trembling. No more helplessness.

Just steel.

Just me.

Downstairs, the kitchen was quiet. Gio sat at the table with a half-finished coffee. Elio leaned against the counter, scrolling through something on his phone. They both looked up when I entered.

No one said a word.

I poured a glass of water. Sat down at the table.

Then I said, “I want to be at the next strategy meeting.”

Gio blinked. Elio put his phone down.

“You sure you’re up for that?” Elio asked.

I looked at him.

He didn’t ask again.

The meeting happened an hour later. The map was spread across the table. Pins. Routes. Intel scribbled in red. Salvatore stood at the head of it all, his face sharper than I’d ever seen it.

This was his world. His battlefield.

And now I was stepping into it.

Gio briefed us on Sergio’s last known location—possibly a storage site near Lake Monroe. Elio mentioned new movements in Angelo’s territory. A few names floated—capos I recognized, ones who used to smile at me like I was a doll on display.

Now they were gearing up to sell me back to the men who broke me.

“What about the Everglades compound?” I said.

They turned to me.

Salvatore tilted his head. “That place has been dormant for years.”

“It hasn’t,” I said. “Sergio was running upgrades out of it. I found blueprints once—hidden under tax files.”

Salvatore’s eyes sharpened.

Elio muttered, “She’s right. That spot’s remote. Could be a fallback base.”

“Then check it,” I said. “And have eyes on it before the week’s out.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Gio smiled, dark and approving. “Yes, ma’am.”

Outside, I watched Elio drill the others in takedown techniques. Eden of two months ago would’ve watched from the porch.

Not this Eden.

I stepped onto the gravel and walked straight toward Salvatore. He was standing off to the side, arms folded, expression unreadable.

“I want in.”

“You’re not ready.”

“I don’t care.”

He looked me over. “You’re not asking.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not.”

He nodded once.

And that was the end of it.

Elio was mid-instruction when it hit me.

He’d said something about loyalty. About how no one questioned Sergio because he spoke with certainty, moved like a king. About how when a man claims something, everyone falls in line.

And just like that—

I was twelve again.

Sitting on Sergio’s lap at a party. His hand on my knee. Everyone smiling like we were the perfect picture of father-daughter love. Someone snapped a photo. I remember looking at my mother.

She smiled at the camera.

And never once looked at me.

She knew. I think she always did.

And she did nothing.

I blinked, and the memory evaporated.

But the rage stayed.

Later that night, I found Elio in the garage.

He was cleaning a rifle, sleeves pushed up, cigarette tucked behind his ear. He didn’t look surprised when I entered.

“You know how to field strip one of these yet?” he asked.

“No.”

He handed me a cloth.

“Start learning.”

I took it.

For the next ten minutes, we worked in silence. Oil. Steel. The soft rasp of cloth against metal.

Then he said, “You scare me now.”

I didn’t answer.

He kept going. “It’s a good thing. The girl who used to flinch when someone raised their voice? She’s gone. And I think the world should be scared of what came in her place.”

Still, I said nothing.

But I didn’t look away either.

It was nearly midnight when I finally made it back to my room.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my gun in my lap.

This time, it was loaded.

I ran my fingers along the metal. It was cold, sleek, familiar now.

I didn’t shake when I held it anymore.

I breathed deep.

I placed my hand over my belly.

No movement. No heartbeat I could feel. But I knew something was there.

Something mine.

Something no one could take from me.

I closed my eyes.

“I don’t know how to be a mother,” I whispered. “I don’t know if I’m good enough. Or strong enough. But I’ve made a decision.”

I swallowed.

“I’ve decided. I can live for you. I can do anything I want. And I want to live for you. For me. For Salvatore. For our family.”

My voice didn’t crack.

My hand didn’t shake.

And when I opened my eyes, I saw myself in the mirror across the room.

Not a victim.

Not a child.

A woman.

A mother.

A storm.