Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 124: – Two Miles and a Pulse

Chapter 124: – Two Miles and a Pulse

Ava’s boots echoed low and steady in the tunnel as she walked back toward Bai Manor—Ren just behind her, quiet as ever.

The reclaimed shopping plaza was now marked and logged in her bracer, the system syncing every few steps. Clean scan. No beast traces. Another node locked under her name. It felt good.

But the moment she stepped into the last stretch of corridor, her bracer buzzed.

Twice.

Sharp.

Not normal.

Her system’s alert came through faint—just a flicker of a hidden line she hadn’t accessed in days.

[PING – BAISHADOW BACKDOOR – SYSTEM CROSS-SYNC TRIGGERED][L.BAI – LIVE STATUS FEED: ACTIVE (HIDDEN)]

Ava froze.

Ren, a pace behind, stopped too. "Miss Zhang?"

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she tapped into the sync panel that wasn’t her’s—Lucas’s personal command, after their last linked update. It had been buried deep, behind a firewall of "Lucas-level paranoia."

But she hadn’t deleted it.

Because Ava didn’t delete things that might keep someone alive.

[LIVE STATUS – LUCAS BAI][POSITION: 2.1 MILES WEST][MOVEMENT: SLOWED][IMPACT DATA: 3x BLUNT FORCE, 1x BLADE ENTRY, SYSTEM-DAMPENING DETECTED]

Ava’s pulse dropped straight into her gut.

He wasn’t dead.

But he was in trouble.

"Shit," she breathed, already moving.

Ren followed, his tone flat. "What happened?"

"Lucas is nearby. Two miles. His system’s online, but he’s not moving like he should be. Something hit him hard."

Ren didn’t hesitate. "I’ll prepare transport."

Ava spun toward the manor’s access garage. "Not a car. Something faster."

Ren didn’t blink. "Follow me."

They reached the outer lift in record time, Ren leading her through an auxiliary panel behind the mechanic’s corridor. It dropped into a hidden storage bay beneath the east garden—small, sealed, lined with chrome cabinets and two covered shapes under reinforced tarp.

Ren pulled the closest cover back with a smooth gesture.

Underneath gleamed a black-chassis motorcycle—all curves and menace, built like it had been designed to break speed limits and sound barriers at the same time. Dual-thruster rear turbines. Low center. Digital dash already warming to her ID.

Ava stared for half a second.

"Are you serious?"

Ren opened a drawer and handed her a pair of gloves, a compact helmet, and a small bracer attachment with an embedded AI tracker.

"Miss Zhang," he said, still composed, "please do try not to die."

She took the gear without breaking stride. "No promises."

The moment the bike hit the asphalt, Ava floored the throttle.

The engine snarled.

Wind ripped past her shoulders like it wanted to pull her apart, but the bike held steady—built for terrain and speed alike. The helmet display synced to her bracer, Lucas’s location blinking in the lower-left HUD like a single pulsing heartbeat.

He wasn’t moving.

Her jaw clenched.

Two miles. Ninety seconds. She saw the wreck before she saw him.

A small ridge, half-split from a shallow landslide—tree limbs cracked, debris still fresh. A long black trail where something—someone—had skidded hard across the gravel.

Ava killed the engine.

Slid off the bike.

Her system blinked red.

[TARGET SIGNAL: 34 METERS AHEAD]

She moved on foot, fast but quiet. Step by step, eyes scanning. No movement. No enemies.

Just forest.

And then—

She saw him.

Lucas.

Slumped against a tree.

One arm bent under him. Coat torn. Blood on his ribs—too much. The system shimmered weakly at his wrist, display cracked. His eyes were closed, mouth slack.

Ava didn’t call out.

She dropped beside him and tapped his bracer first.

[MANUAL SYSTEM TRANSFER INITIATED – SYNC: ZHANG, AVA]

The system recognized her.

Transferred partial control.

Lucas gasped.

His eyes snapped open, unfocused—then blinked. Once. Twice.

"Ava," he rasped.

She didn’t speak.

Just slipped one arm under his shoulder, propping him up. "You’re an idiot."

"I was... handling it."

"You were bleeding in a ditch."

Lucas coughed once. "Rude."

"Live first. We can fight about it later."

He tried to grin. Failed.

Ava pulled out a small injector from her utility pouch—slid it against his neck. The stabilizer hissed once, and some of the color returned to his face.

His hand gripped hers loosely. Still strong. Still warm.

"You tracked me," he murmured.

Ava nodded. "Backdoor link."

"Didn’t think you’d use it."

His eyes closed again.

Ava move, strapped Lucas onto the bike, tight and secure, one of his arms barely holding on around her waist as she swung back onto the seat.

He didn’t speak.

Ava gunned the engine, and they roared back toward the manor—toward safety, toward questions, toward whatever madness had left the great Lucas Bai broken in a forest two miles from home.

Ava gunned the engine.

The bike roared under her like it was thrilled to be part of the drama, wheels gripping tight to the road as she veered out of the forest and onto the perimeter lane.

Lucas, strapped behind her, was dead weight.

Literally.

He slumped sideways once—his head knocking lightly against her shoulder.

"Seriously?" she muttered, adjusting her elbow to prop him upright again.

No response.

Just another loose exhale.

She tightened the side strap holding him in place, revved the engine again, and pushed harder into the next curve. But it didn’t matter how carefully she leaned into the ride—Lucas Bai was an objectively terrible passenger.

His right arm slipped again.

She caught it.

Slid it back around her waist with a grunt. "You’re lucky I like symmetry."

She slid his arm back around her waist with a grunt. "You’re lucky I like symmetry."

From somewhere behind her—low, hoarse, and slightly slurred—Lucas mumbled:

"Symmetry’s sexy. So’s not dying. Preferably both."

Ava blinked.

"Are you awake?"

"Depends. Did you just cradle me like a drunken starlet on a runaway hoverbike?"

"I didn’t cradle you."

"You did. It was tender. Intimate. There was—mmf—emotional context."

"You’re bleeding on my shoulder."

"Shared trauma," he rasped. "Adds depth."

She glanced back, just enough to catch his lopsided grin through the visor slit.

"Lucas, if you die and I have to explain your last words were about ’emotional context’ on a motorcycle, I’m leaving your body in the woods."

"Rude," he muttered. "You didn’t even ask about the damage report."

"Because your ribcage’s doing a live broadcast against my spine?"

"Ugh. Felt that. Internal bruising. Maybe a spleen cracked. Possibly two spleens."

"You only have one."

"Then it’s extra cracked."

Ava shook her head and throttled the engine harder. "You sound like a drunk sailor."

"Flattering. Sailors got things done."

"You’re leaking, Lucas."

He chuckled—then groaned, the sound tapering into a dry cough.

Ava reached back just slightly, bracing his leg again with hers.

"Hold on a little longer," she muttered. "We’re almost home."

Behind her, Lucas mumbled, "If I die, carve something poetic on my gravestone."

"Fine. I’ll write: ’Here lies Lucas Bai—he died talking shit.’"

"Perfect," he murmured. "Put it in italics."

Ava opened her mouth to snap back—but Lucas didn’t wait.

His head dropped sideways, breath shallow against her collarbone.

Unconscious.

Again.

Ava exhaled hard, dragging a hand down her face. "Oh, come on. I just got you back in one piece. You couldn’t stay awake long enough for the full lecture?"

She turned to Ren. "Get him on the table. We’re not done fighting."

Ren didn’t flinch. "Already prepared."

The medbay doors slid open with a hiss as the platform eased down. The moment they stepped in, William appeared—silent, sharp, and utterly calm, like he’d been standing in the corner of the storm this entire time.