Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 86: : Different Worlds

Chapter 86: : Different Worlds

The bike cut through the ruins like a shadow.

Lucas handled it with one hand on the throttle, the other resting loosely on the handlebar—too casual, like even this wasteland couldn’t bother him.

Ava sat behind him, arms locked around his waist, hands pressed firmly against his coat.

And under the coat.

Abs.

Lean. Solid. Tense with every shift of balance.

Ava gritted her teeth and stared over his shoulder.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t touched him before—passing tools, adjusting armor, stitching wounds—but this felt... different.

The motor rumbled beneath them, and every bump in the road pressed her closer. Not by choice. Not entirely.

She told herself she was just trying to stay on the damn bike.

Her fingers curled slightly against him.

Lucas didn’t comment, but she could feel the smugness radiating off him like heat.

Ava rested her cheek briefly against his back, just for balance—but in that quiet second, her mind wandered somewhere it shouldn’t.

If the world hadn’t ended. If the earth hadn’t cracked,, if the cities still stood— then she wouldn’t be here.

She’d probably still be in class. Wasting hours studying things that didn’t matter. Arguing with Lily over grades chatting about pretty boys. Pretending Jessica wasn’t mean.

And Lucas?

He’d be in some skyscraper office, no doubt. Dressed in a suit, smug as hell, doing under-the-table deals in a boardroom with billionaires twice his age and twice as dumb.

They wouldn’t have met.

But here she was. Signing up forever.

The bike banked around a twisted overpass, tires skidding across dust and scattered glass. Ava tightened her grip again, fingers pressing harder into the curve of his waist.

Lucas leaned into the turn with zero hesitation, speaking over the wind.

"Fifteen more minutes. I marked a safe zone just ahead."

Ava shouted back.

"How do you know it’s still safe?"

Ava raised her voice over the wind, the bike cutting hard around a chunk of collapsed overpass.

Lucas didn’t look back. His voice carried easily, smooth as ever.

"Because if it wasn’t, the guy I paid to scout it would’ve stopped sending me location updates three days ago."

Ava blinked.

"You paid someone to test it—like bait?"

"Test pilot," he corrected. "He’s still alive. Mostly."

"That’s not reassuring."

Lucas shrugged.

"Worked out fine, didn’t it?"

Ava didn’t answer. She was too busy gripping the edge of the bike as they banked around another ruined slab of city. The skyline ahead was a cracked mess of twisted steel and sunken rooftops—but nestled at the base of a ridge was something different.

Her system pinged before she could ask.

[POTENTIAL SHELTER DETECTED]

[TYPE: SUBTERRANEAN STRUCTURE – REINFORCED]

[STATUS: STABLE – 91%]

Ava leaned forward.

"There. That building buried under the slope."

"I told you," Lucas called back. "I don’t take risks. I outsource them."

The bike slowed as they rolled up beside a slanted wall and a patch of fencing twisted from years of collapse. The sun had nearly vanished now—just a thin, fading bruise across the sky.

Lucas killed the engine.

The silence that followed was thick and immediate. No more wind. No city groan. Just stillness.

Ava climbed off stiffly, her legs aching, arms numb from holding on.

Lucas stretched with a low grunt, coat shifting as he moved.

"Not bad for end-of-the-world real estate."

"Just open the hatch," Ava muttered, already moving toward the partially buried access point.

She knelt, brushing aside rubble and pulling at the corroded handle.

Lucas stepped up beside her.

"You sure this place isn’t rigged with traps or wild things?"

Ava tapped her temple once.

"If it was, I’d see it."

Her system flickered again.

[BIOMETRIC SEAL – LEVEL 2 SECURITY]

[BLUEPRINT OVERRIDE ENABLED]

[ACCESS GRANTED]

A faint hiss followed.

The steel hatch creaked open, revealing a narrow stairwell that dropped into cool, dry darkness.

Lucas peered down.

"Ladies first?"

Ava shot him a look.

"You’re the one with the ego. You can go absorb the first trap."

Lucas grinned and stepped inside.

"Try to keep up, Beauty."

The hatch door sealed behind them with a hydraulic hiss, locking out the dying light—and the things that came with it.

Inside, the shelter was smaller than it looked.

Ava swept the beam of her wrist-light across the space. Three by three meters, square and tight, walls made of reinforced steel panels darkened with age. A thick ventilation pipe ran along the ceiling, humming faintly. Dust clung to the corners.

Bare necessities. No more.

One foldout table bolted to the floor. A crate converted into a bench. A water filter station in the far corner, old but operational. Two exit doors—one leading deeper underground, the other locked tight with a red indicator flashing low-power status.

And in the far corner—

One bed.

Standard-issue, military. Thin mattress. Single pillow.

Ava blinked once.

"Seriously?"

Lucas walked past her, casually tossing his pack beside the bed and stretching his arms overhead like he’d just come home from a long day at work.

"What? It’s cozy."

Ava turned slowly toward him.

"There’s one bed."

Lucas raised an eyebrow, utterly unbothered.

"You noticed."

She pointed at the floor.

"I’ll take that side. You get the nice concrete."

Lucas smirked, dropping onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh.

"I admire your generosity."

Ava groaned and turned away before she launched something at his face. She set her pack down carefully, took stock of the exits again, and then sat on the edge of the crate.

Her legs felt like sandbags.

Her system pinged.

[FATIGUE LEVEL: CRITICAL]

[RECOMMENDED: IMMEDIATE REST]

[ENERGY RESERVES: 12%]

A moment later, something hit her lap.

She looked down.

Three energy bars. Long shelf-life, nutrient dense, still in military wrapping.

She looked up.

Lucas had kicked off his boots and was now lying back with one arm behind his head, watching her with that infuriating, unreadable expression.

"Eat," he said simply. "Then sleep. You look like a corpse pretending to function."

Ava frowned, but her fingers curled around the bars.

She hadn’t eaten since—what? Morning? Yesterday? Time blurred when survival was the priority.

She tore one open and took a bite. It was dense. Dry. Barely edible.

Lucas’s voice broke the silence again.

"No need for a watch tonight."

Ava blinked her eyes open halfway.

"I thought you always sleep light."

Lucas shifted on the mattress, folding his arms behind his head.

"I do. But the hatch is buried under a ton of concrete and junk. We’re sealed in. No one’s finding it unless they already knew it was here."

He closed his eyes.

"And no one does."

Ava stared at him for a moment, unsure if she believed him—or if it even mattered. Her body was already giving up the argument. Muscles heavy. Eyes dry. System still quietly warning her of critical fatigue.

Lucas didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes.

"Get some sleep, Beauty. You’ve earned it."

For once, there was no teasing behind it.

No smirk.

Just words, drifting in the dark.

Ava slid down the wall, pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, and let her head rest against her pack.

In minutes, the room went still.

Lucas exhaled once.

The kind of breath that says, finally, like the weight of the day had rolled off his chest and vanished into the dark.

Ava stayed still against the wall, eyes closed.

But sleep didn’t come.

Her body was wrecked—burning at the joints, muscles sore, head heavy—but her mind wouldn’t shut up. It spun in loops. William’s last glance. The shattered city. The mutants that looked too human. The constant gnawing question: What now?

She shifted slightly, trying to find a better position.

Nothing helped.

The pressure behind her eyes throbbed.

Her system pinged again, this time more insistent.

[CRITICAL CONDITION DETECTED]

[SYSTEM OVERRIDE: INITIATING FORCED RECOVERY MODE]

[MENTAL LOCK RELEASE IN 3... 2... 1...]

Ava jerked once—then went completely still.

Her muscles slackened. Shoulders dropped. Breath deepened instantly.

System override complete.

For the first time in thirty hours, her body slipped into full repair mode—deep sleep, involuntary, absolute.

She didn’t dream.

Not yet.

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