Chapter 1

The world came back in a roar of noise and cheap beer.

I was in a crowded South Philly sports bar, the smell of stale smoke and fried food thick in the air.

"To the Oracle!"

Marco, my childhood friend, raised his glass. The whole crew-guys I' d known my entire life-cheered, their faces flushed with victory and greed.

"Maya, you' re a legend! We' re all printing money because of you!"

The praise felt like ice water down my back. I remembered these same faces, twisted with rage. I remembered Marco' s fist connecting with my jaw.

I remembered them leaving me to die in a dirty alley.

In my previous life, just one week from now, my predictions went bust. A series of star players collapsed, and these same friends lost everything.

They blamed me. They said I was too slow.

"King K called it an hour before you, Maya! An hour!" Marco had screamed, shoving his phone in my face. The video showed a slick, charismatic influencer predicting the exact player busts that ruined them.

They didn' t listen when I said it was impossible. They just beat me until I stopped moving.

Now, looking at their smiling faces, I felt a cold, hard knot form in my stomach. I was back. One week before the disaster.

"Maya, you look pale," Marco said, his smile fading a little. "You okay? You need to give us the picks for next week. We' re riding this hot streak all the way."

The others leaned in, their eyes hungry.

"Yeah, Maya, who' s the sure thing?"

"Give us the golden ticket!"

I pushed my chair back, my hands trembling. "I... I need a break. I' m not feeling well."

They looked confused, then annoyed. Their loyalty was only as deep as their winnings.

Just then, a familiar arm wrapped around my shoulders. "Hey, leave her alone. Can' t you see my niece is exhausted?"

It was my Uncle Leo. My only family. The man who raised me after my parents died. He looked at the crew with a protective frown.

"She works too hard for you guys. Give her some space."

The crew grumbled but backed off. A wave of relief washed over me, followed by a pang of guilt. Maybe I was wrong to be so cold. He was defending me.

He helped me up. "Come on, kid. Let' s get you home."

As we walked out into the cool night air, he squeezed my shoulder. His voice was soft, full of concern.

"You really do look tired, Maya. But there' s something I have to talk to you about."