Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 119: – First Orders

Chapter 119: – First Orders

The kitchen smelled like steam and memory.

Yuan Zhou moved like she’d never stopped cooking—wooden spoon in one hand, the other already shooing Lucas from behind the counter as he leaned too close to the pot.

"You want food or a scar?" she snapped.

Lucas raised both hands like a guilty kid. "Just checking on the seasoning."

"You don’t trust me after all these years?"

"I trust you more than anyone," he said, voice smooth. "That’s the problem."

Yuan rolled her eyes and shoved a bowl of soup into his hands—deep ceramic, still hot. She dropped two thick sandwiches onto a plate beside it and pushed the entire setup toward the long wooden counter where Ava was already seated.

Ava leaned forward, sniffed the soup, then blinked. "Is that... real ginger?"

"And carrot. Grown in-house. Same with the chicken."

Ava glanced over her shoulder. "You people live like kings."

Yuan grunted. "Kings don’t clean up after themselves. Eat while it’s hot."

Lucas set his bowl down next to Ava’s and dropped onto the stool beside her with a sigh—half exhaustion, half performance.

"You know, for someone who hasn’t lived here in years," Ava muttered, "you’re awfully at ease."

He dipped a slice of sandwich into his soup. "I missed this place. Some parts of it."

"Which parts? The furniture or the emotional baggage?"

Lucas smiled into his bowl. "Mostly the food."

She laughed, just once—low and dry.

For a moment, the kitchen held the kind of silence that felt earned. Real. Warm light. The soft scrape of spoons. Soup steam curling up into air scrubbers. Comfort that hadn’t been available in months—maybe years.

Ava took a bite of the sandwich.

She closed her eyes. Chewed slowly.

"You okay?" Lucas asked.

Her voice was muffled but clear. "If I cry, it’s not because of you."

"Obviously."

She looked at him. "This is insane. Actual bread. Crunchy pickles. Something with spice."

Lucas leaned in, elbow nudging hers. "Didn’t think I’d be the one to spoil you."

Ava was about to make some sharp remark—

When the alert pinged.

[PERIMETER NOTICE – UNREGISTERED MOVEMENT – SOUTH RIDGE SLOPE][THREAT ASSESSMENT: UNCONFIRMED – SINGLE ENTITY – ARMED SIGNATURE: UNKNOWN]

Ava’s bracer lit up in sync with the AI nodes embedded in the wall panel.

She froze.

Lucas didn’t.

He set his spoon down without looking at the alert. Didn’t even sigh. "Yours."

Ava blinked. "What?"

Lucas turned slightly in his seat. "You’re command-tier now. It’s your house. You handle it."

Yuan was already putting the food aside, movements clean, practiced. She didn’t ask questions.

Ava stood slowly, her stool scraping the floor.

"Seriously?" she asked.

Lucas nodded once. "I trust you."

She stared at him.

Then turned on her heel and walked.

The command center still felt too clean.

Too sharp. Too prepared.

The room read her bracer as soon as she stepped in, lights blooming across the table, wall screens pulsing with map overlays and node feedback.

[AI SYNC CONFIRMED – ZHANG, AVA][COMMAND ACCESS ENABLED]

She keyed into the perimeter display.

A single shape. Moving slow. Uphill.

No name. No ID chip. No drone shadow or escort.

She zoomed in on the heat signature.

Too steady.

No limp. No hesitation. No gear clatter.

Just walking.

Confident. Quiet. Alone.

"Who the hell are you..." she muttered.

William’s voice buzzed in from the internal feed. "Visual on target. No insignia. Vest is reinforced. Civilian pants, military boots."

"Armed?"

"Concealed. Probably."

Ava felt her pulse slow—not speed up. Her hands didn’t shake.

But something underneath her skin was beginning to tighten.

The figure was maybe twenty yards outside the third motion gate. Right between the outer minefield and the drone crosspath.

No attempt to hide. No signal to surrender.

[THREAT ASSESSMENT UPDATED – PROBABILITY OF HOSTILE INTENT: 78%]

Ava keyed into the outbound channel.

"This is Bai Manor. You are approaching a sealed security perimeter. You are being tracked. Identify now."

No response.

William’s voice: "They’re not stopping."

Ava’s system pinged once more.

[FINAL WARNING WINDOW – LOCAL NODE ENGAGEMENT PROTOCOL TRIGGERED][RESPONSE REQUIRED: ALLOW – WARN – TERMINATE]

Her finger hovered over the kill command.

She didn’t look away from the screen.

She didn’t ask for help.

She pressed TERMINATE.

The order was clean.

Drones deployed from underground in a whisper.

One shot. Precision. The body dropped instantly, heat signature going flat against the hillside.

[TARGET NEUTRALIZED][LOGGING COMPLETE – AI NODE LOGS ARCHIVED TO TIER 2]

Ava didn’t move.

Her hand was still resting on the console.

The room hummed. Neutral. Cold.

She didn’t say anything.

Just stood at the edge of the command deck, eyes fixed on the far wall, where the tactical readouts had dimmed into idle mode—like the system itself was trying to look away.

Lucas moved in behind her, slower this time. Not stalking. Not teasing. Just there.

His voice, when it came, was quiet.

Measured.

"I remember the first time I gave the order."

Ava didn’t move.

Lucas stepped to her side, shoulder just brushing hers. Not enough to crowd her. Just enough to mean I’m here.

"It was a convoy," he said. "Three scavvers. Stealing from one of our drop caches outside Sector Eleven."

He tapped the edge of the railing once. A soft, rhythmic gesture.

"They were armed. One had a kid with them. Looked like she’d just hit puberty. They ran when the drones locked. Standard protocol says you warn twice."

Ava’s eyes flicked toward him—brief. Sharp.

"You didn’t?"

"I warned once," Lucas said. "Then I buried them."

A long silence stretched between them.

"Was it the right call?" she asked finally.

He looked at her.

And didn’t answer.

Because some things didn’t have clean answers.

Instead, he reached forward, resting his hand gently over her forearm. His touch wasn’t firm—just grounding.

"You can cry," he said.

Ava’s jaw locked. "I’m not—"

"I’m not saying do it here," Lucas interrupted gently. "And not for them. You don’t cry for people who try to break into your gates."

She didn’t reply.

"But for you?" he continued. "Yeah. You can cry."

He squeezed once, just slightly.

"You get one minute to feel it. No one sees. No one knows. Then you lock it down. Because you don’t get to be weak."

Ava swallowed.

He leaned a little closer, voice dropping to something only meant for her.

"You can be angry. Guilty. Tired. But not weak. Not here. Not ever."

She exhaled, sharp and soft, like the breath had been waiting in her ribs too long.

"I didn’t feel anything," she said again. "And that scares me more."

Lucas looked at her.

His hand didn’t leave her arm.

"Then good," he said. "It means you’re not gone yet."

Ava blinked fast—once.

But no tears came.

He saw it. Didn’t name it. Just stood with her a second longer.

Then, without a word, he moved away.

"Soup’s probably cold," he said over his shoulder, voice returning to its usual weight. "But the pie should still be warm."

Ava didn’t answer.

But she followed anyway.

Because that’s what she did now.

Move forward.