Chapter 74: "The Awakening"

\# CHAPTER 74 – "The Awakening"

\## POV: Eve

The visions start when I'm feeding little Michael.

First one hits me like a slap to the face. Suddenly I ain't in the safe house anymore. I'm standing in some fancy office with dark wood paneling and expensive furniture. Man behind the desk looks familiar but I never seen him before in my life.

"The Romano bloodline carries more than just strength," he's saying. "We see things others don't. Know things before they happen. That's what makes us dangerous."

The vision fades. I'm back in the safe house holding my baby. But my hands are shaking.

"You okay?" Dante asks. He's been pacing by the window for the past hour. Watching for Marco's people. Waiting for the next attack.

"Fine. Just tired."

But I ain't fine. That man in the vision... something about his face. His voice. Like looking in a mirror that shows you what you might become.

Michael finishes eating and falls asleep. Perfect little face peaceful like nothing's wrong. Like his mother ain't going crazy with visions of dead people.

I put him in the crib Dr. Rodriguez set up. Same crib that's been in our family for generations. Same crib where all the Romano babies slept. Including me when I was small.

That's when the second vision hits.

This time I'm in a different place. Run-down apartment that smells like cigarettes and cheap perfume. Woman sitting at a kitchen table counting money. She looks young. Maybe twenty-five. But her eyes look older. Tired.

"Mama why you always counting the same bills over and over?" Child's voice. Little girl maybe six years old.

The woman looks up. Same face I see in the mirror every morning. But younger. Sadder.

"Because honey sometimes knowing how much you got is the only way to know what's possible."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we Romano women got gifts. We see patterns other people miss. Know when to fold and when to double down. When to fight and when to run."

"What kind of gifts?"

"The kind that keep us alive when everyone wants us dead."

Vision fades again. I'm back in the present but my heart's pounding.

That was my mother. Had to be. Same face. Same voice I remember from when I was little. Before she died. Before the world went to hell.

"Eve?" Dante's voice sounds far away. "You sure you're okay? You look pale."

"Just memories."

"What kind of memories?"

"The kind I ain't never had before."

Third vision comes while I'm trying to make sense of the first two. This one's different. Older. The colors are wrong like I'm looking at an old movie.

Man in an expensive suit standing on a pier. Got to be the 1940s based on the clothes and cars. He's talking to another man who looks nervous.

"You don't understand what you're asking," the nervous man says.

"I understand perfectly. You want protection for your business. You want the cops to look the other way. You want problems to disappear."

"And you can do that?"

"My family's been making problems disappear for three generations. But it comes with a price."

"What price?"

"Loyalty. Complete loyalty. You work for us now. Do what we say. Go where we tell you to go."

"And if I refuse?"

The man in the suit smiles. Same smile I seen on my own face when I'm about to do something violent.

"Then you become one of the problems that disappears."

The nervous man nods quick. Scared.

"Good. Now let me tell you how this works. We don't just run businesses. We run fate. We see the future and we shape it. Make it what we need it to be."

"How?"

"Practice. Patience. And knowing that every choice creates ten more choices. Smart people learn to see all ten. Stupid people only see the one in front of them."

Vision ends. I'm back in the safe house but everything looks different. Sharper. Like someone just cleaned my glasses.

"Eve talk to me." Dante sits down next to me. "You been staring at nothing for five minutes."

"Not nothing. The past."

"What past?"

"My family's past. The real Romano history. Not the stories everyone tells about violence and territory wars. The truth about what made us different."

"Which was what?"

I try to find words for what I'm seeing. For the understanding that's building in my head like pressure behind a dam.

"We didn't just fight for power. We shaped reality. Saw possibilities other people couldn't imagine. Made choices that changed everything."

"That sounds like regular strategy. Nothing supernatural about reading people and planning ahead."

"This was more than planning."

Fourth vision hits before I can explain. This one's recent. Maybe fifteen years ago.

I'm looking through the eyes of a teenage girl. Standing in front of a mirror in a bathroom I recognize. The bathroom in our old apartment before mama died.

The girl in the mirror is me. But younger. Skinnier. Scared.

"You got the gift honey." Mama's voice from behind me. "Can see it in your eyes. Same look your grandfather had. Your great-grandfather too."

"What gift?"

"Future sight. Not like fortune tellers on street corners. Real sight. Knowing which path leads where. Which choice creates which outcome."

"I don't see no futures."

"Because you ain't learned to look yet. But you will. Have to. It's who we are."

"Who we are?"

"Romano women don't just survive. We decide who else gets to survive. We're not players in the game honey. We're the ones who make the rules."

That memory's real. I remember that conversation now. Remember mama trying to teach me things I was too young to understand. Too scared to accept.

But I'm starting to understand now.

"Eve." Dante's shaking my shoulder. "Stay with me."

"I'm here."

"You're scaring me. Your eyes keep rolling back. Like you're having seizures."

"Not seizures. Memories. My family's memories."

"That don't make sense."

"Makes perfect sense. Dr. Rodriguez said the baby's genetics activated something in my bloodline. Something that's been sleeping for generations."

"You're saying you inherited memories?"

"I'm saying I inherited the ability to see what really matters. To understand patterns. To know which choice leads where."

"And that helps us how?"

I stand up and walk to the window. Look out at the street. At the shadows between buildings. At the cars parked too long in the same spots.

For the first time in my life I really see.

"Marco's people ain't coming tonight."

"How do you know?"

"Because tonight's a test. He wants to see if we'll panic. If we'll run. If we'll make mistakes."

"So what's his real plan?"

"Tomorrow morning. During rush hour when there's lots of civilians around. He'll hit us when we think we're safe."

"You sure about this?"

"Sure as I've ever been about anything."

Fifth vision comes while I'm explaining. This one ain't from the past. This one's happening right now.

I'm seeing through someone else's eyes. Someone standing across the street from our safe house. Looking up at our window.

The person turns and I see their reflection in a car window. It's Marco. But different. Older. Scarred. Like something chewed him up and spit him out.

He pulls out a phone. Makes a call.

"They're still there. Woman just looked out the window. She knows we're watching."

"Does she know about tomorrow?" Voice on the phone sounds like it's coming from far away.

"Don't think so. But she's smart. Smarter than I gave her credit for."

"Smart enough to be a problem?"

"Smart enough to be useful. If we can turn her."

"And if we can't?"

"Then we make sure the baby survives even if she don't."

The vision ends but I keep watching the street. Keep seeing that reflection of Marco's ruined face.

"He's out there," I tell Dante.

"Where?"

"Across the street. Behind the blue car. He's been watching us for hours."

Dante moves to get a better angle. Peers through the blinds. "I don't see nobody."

"He's there. And he's planning something for tomorrow."

"What kind of something?"

"Public attack. Lots of witnesses. Wants to make a statement."

"Statement about what?"

"About who really runs this city. About what happens to people who oppose him."

Dante starts reaching for his gun. I grab his wrist.

"No. If you shoot at him now he'll know I can see him. That I know what he's planning."

"So we just let him watch us?"

"We let him think he's got the advantage. Let him believe his plan's gonna work."

"And then?"

"Then we show him what a real Romano can do when she stops playing defense."

The baby starts crying. Not normal baby crying. That weird sound he makes when something's wrong. When there's danger nearby.

I pick him up. Hold him close. Feel that strange connection between us. Like he's sharing my visions. My understanding.

"What do you see little one?" I whisper.

For a second I swear I see through his eyes. See the world the way he sees it. All possibilities. All potential futures. All the ways things could go right or wrong.

It's overwhelming. Like looking at a thousand different movies playing at the same time. But slowly I start to pick out patterns. Common threads. Moments where one choice creates a cascade of other choices.

"Eve?" Dante sounds worried.

"I see it now. The whole pattern. Why Marco wanted the baby. Why he's been planning this for so long."

"Tell me."

"He knows about the Romano bloodline. Knows what we're capable of when our abilities are fully awakened. He wants to control that power. Use it for himself."

"Use it how?"

"To see the future. To know which investments will pay off. Which wars to fight. Which politicians to buy. He wants to turn psychic ability into profit."

"And if he can't control you?"

"Then he'll settle for controlling the baby. Raise him as a weapon. Train him to see only the futures Marco wants him to see."

The crying stops. Little Michael looks up at me with those big eyes. Like he understands what we're talking about. Like he's ready to help however he can.

"So what's the plan?" Dante asks.

"We stop running. Stop hiding. Stop letting Marco dictate the terms."

"How?"

"By doing what Romano women have always done. We see the future we want and we make it happen."

"That's not a plan. That's wishful thinking."

"No. That's genetics. That's generations of women who survived by being smarter than their enemies. Who won by seeing possibilities other people missed."

I walk to the window again. Look out at the street. At Marco's hiding spot behind the blue car.

This time I see more than just what's happening now. I see what could happen. What will happen if I make the right choices.

"Tomorrow morning Marco's gonna attack during the breakfast rush. Eight fifteen AM. Corner of Fifth and Main. He'll have twelve people with him including two snipers on nearby rooftops."

"How do you know all that?"

"Because I can see it. Like watching a movie of something that ain't happened yet."

"And we're gonna be there?"

"We're gonna be ready. Gonna turn his ambush into our victory."

"What if you're wrong? What if the visions are just stress or pregnancy hormones or something?"

I think about that. About the possibility that I'm losing my mind instead of finding my heritage. About the chance that these visions are just wishful thinking dressed up as psychic ability.

Then I look at my son. At the way he watches everything with those knowing eyes. At the way he responds to dangers he shouldn't even be able to sense.

"Then we die tomorrow morning. But if I'm right..."

"If you're right?"

"If I'm right then Marco just made the mistake of hunting someone who can see him coming."

Dante checks his gun. Counts ammunition. Starts thinking like a soldier instead of a worried new father.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Trust me. Trust the visions. Trust that being a Romano means more than just being good at violence."

"And if the visions are wrong?"

"Then we find out whether love and luck are stronger than genetics and destiny."

Michael makes a soft sound. Not crying. Just baby noises. But somehow I understand what he's trying to tell me.

That tomorrow changes everything. That the choices we make in the next twenty-four hours will determine not just whether we live or die, but what kind of world our son grows up in.

No pressure.

Just the weight of the future pressing down on a woman who's finally learning what it means to be the last heir of a bloodline that was never meant to follow. Only to lead.

Time to find out if I'm strong enough to carry that weight.

Time to discover what happens when a Romano stops running and starts ruling.