Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 99: : Systems and Smoke

Chapter 99: : Systems and Smoke

Elias popped the passenger door open and leaned against the frame, the faint thrum of his truck’s idle engine echoing against the checkpoint wall.

"Come on," he called, motioning to Lucas and Ava. "We’re ten minutes out. A few friends, some drinks, and a quiet office I actually trust not to be bugged."

Lucas didn’t wait for confirmation. He gave Ava a lazy nudge, already moving toward the back.

"Let’s take the scenic route," he said, sliding into the far corner. "Besides, we’ve got an image to maintain."

Ava raised an eyebrow just before Lucas reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her down—directly into his lap.

"Lucas—"

"Fake perfect girlfriend, remember?" he murmured, adjusting her legs over his. His arms looped around her waist casually, but the warmth of it wasn’t fake. "Convincing always starts with proximity."

"You’re lucky I don’t stab you for comfort."

"I’d bleed fashionably."

Elias gave a sharp whistle from the driver’s seat."You two done flirting, or should I roll the window down for air?"

Lucas smirked but didn’t let go."Drive."

The truck rumbled forward, rolling out past the checkpoint and down a battered service road shaded by dead trees and rusting fences. The sky was beginning to dim, casting orange and rust over the path ahead.

Inside, the ride was oddly smooth.

Lucas leaned close, his voice brushing the shell of Ava’s ear."Let’s meet some old friends and talk business. But stay sharp—this crowd? They like to show off."

"Show off what?" Ava muttered.

As Elias pulled into the lot, Ava could already see them through the glass doors—four people in mismatched gear standing around an old circular table, half-empty glasses in hand, faint laughter echoing through the cracked walls.

Elias cut the engine and leaned out the driver’s side window.

"Give me five." His voice was calm but clipped. "I’ll let them know you’re coming. If my sister’s inside—and she shouldn’t be—I’ll clear her before you step in. I like things sure."

Lucas nodded once, serious now.

"Appreciate it."

Elias gave them a quick nod and disappeared inside, door shutting behind him with a soft metallic click.

Silence settled in the truck’s backseat. The tension outside—the kind that came before walking into a room where every handshake might be a test—seeped in like cold air.

Lucas stood slowly, stretching his arms behind his head, eyes fixed on the old building in front of them.

"People in my circle?" he said after a moment. "We’re not friends. We’re friendly."

Ava leaned back against the seat, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"What’s the difference?"

Lucas smiled without warmth.

"Friends ask how you’re doing. These people ask what you’re planning. How your numbers are. What you’ve built lately. No one wants to be the one falling behind."

He turned toward her now, hands in his pockets, golden eyes serious under the fading light.

"The rich don’t care about right or wrong. Only about whether their next move keeps them relevant."

Ava didn’t respond right away. Her system was quiet, no pings, no warnings—just stillness. She watched the way Lucas’s shoulders tightened slightly when he said that. Like he was tired of wearing the armor, but still didn’t know how to take it off.

"Rich people problems," she said quietly.

Lucas gave a soft laugh at that—surprised and maybe a little relieved.

"Exactly."

Ava looked away, toward the building, then down at their hands—her fingers brushing against his from where they’d fallen close on the seat cushion. She didn’t pull away.

"You don’t act like them," she said. "Not really."

"Don’t I?" he asked, softer now.

"You could’ve left me behind a dozen times. But you didn’t." She glanced up at him. "You don’t just plan moves, Lucas. You protect them."

Lucas didn’t say anything.

He just looked at her—really looked. And for a second, there was nothing guarded in his expression.

"I don’t do this." His voice was low, rough around the edges. "Not with... people."

He gave a half-shrug, like he was trying to brush it off but couldn’t quite commit to the performance. "Being real. It’s not really part of my brand."

Ava didn’t move.

Lucas exhaled slowly, like the words were dragging something out of him.

"Trust costs. More than anything else in this world." He glanced at the door Elias had vanished through, then back to her. "Don’t give people what they want too easy, Beauty. It makes you a target. And you’re already a magnet for bad attention."

Ava raised an eyebrow.

"Including yours?"

Lucas let out a quiet laugh.

"Especially me."

He looked down at her hand in his, then up again, eyes more open than she’d ever seen them.

"You know," he said slowly, the usual playfulness gone, replaced with something lighter but real, "Elias looked at you today."

Ava raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

Lucas tilted his head, pretending to think.

"He might have wanted to trade favors with you or offer to buy you dinner."

She smirked.

"And that bothers you?"

He gave a breath of a laugh—dry, amused, but not quite deflecting this time.

"Nah. Elias, he’s not your friend."

There was a pause, soft and full between them.

He looked at her then, really looked. Not like a strategist sizing up value, not like a trader calculating what came next.

"You and me?" he said, voice low. "We’re not just a deal. ... whatever this is. Something I didn’t plan for." His smile twitched—charming, but flickering with something he couldn’t quite say yet. "Which is probably why it matters."

The warmth between them said more than the words either of them could’ve pulled together in that moment.

Lucas looked back toward the building, tension slipping from his shoulders like he’d let something real out and didn’t regret it—yet.

"So don’t take this the wrong way," he added, tone lighter again, "but if Elias ever makes a move, I’m not above threatening him with a wrench. Subtle, classy, only slightly illegal."

Ava chuckled under her breath, her shoulder brushing his.

"You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously devoted." He glanced at her with that familiar glint returning to his eye. "In a completely platonic, emotionally-repressed, future-dramatic kind of way."

And somehow, in the wreckage of the world and all its shifting systems, it felt like the most romantic thing he could’ve said.