THE TRUCK KUN DRIVER HAREM OF BEAUTIES-Chapter 45: Luck Stats [R18]

The voice came from inside the vault room. Behind him. It was cold and professional, the kind of tone that expected immediate compliance.

"Hands where I can see them."

Alex raised his hands slowly, keeping them visible above the laser grid that trapped him in place. His heart was hammering hard enough that he could feel it in his throat, but he forced his breathing to stay steady.

He heard footsteps behind him. They were measured and confident, getting closer with each step.

Then she moved into view.

Amara.

She was dressed in tactical gear that Alex hadn’t seen her wear before. Dark pants that looked military grade. A fitted jacket with the presidential security insignia stitched onto the shoulder. Her brown hair was pulled back tight into a ponytail. And in her hands was a weapon, the barrel pointed directly at his chest with absolutely no tremor.

Her expression was hard. Professional. There was no recognition in her eyes at all when she looked at him.

Despite the gun aimed at his chest, Alex felt relief flood through him. "Amara, thank god. It’s me."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but the weapon didn’t waver even a fraction. "Who the hell are you?"

"It’s Alex. Alex Mercer."

"I don’t know anyone named Alex Mercer." Her finger stayed on the trigger, ready. No fear in her posture. No hesitation. Just cold assessment of a potential threat. "You have five seconds to explain who you are and what you’re doing in a restricted presidential vault before I put you down."

"Amara, it’s me. From the restaurant. Friday night. We had dinner together and then we went upstairs to that private room and we almost kissed before your security interrupted us." Alex gestured carefully at his face with one hand, making sure to keep the movement slow and visible. "I’m wearing a... disguise. A facial disguise. June, disable the illusion. Right now."

[Deactivating molecular disguise.]

The air around Alex’s face shimmered like heat rising off pavement. His features began to shift. The Asian characteristics faded. His real jawline emerged. His actual nose. His own eyes.

Within seconds, his real face was visible again.

Amara’s eyes went wide. The weapon lowered slightly, but she didn’t put it down completely. "Alex? What the fuck?"

"Yeah, it’s me."

"What are you doing here? How did you even get in here?" Her voice was rising now, confusion mixing with anger. "Do you have any idea what kind of security you just breached?"

Outside in the corridor, the sound of running footsteps was getting louder. Multiple people. A lot of them.

"Amara, I can explain everything, but can you get me out of this laser cage first? Because we’re about to have a lot of company and this is going to be a very long story."

She stared at him for another second, her mind clearly racing. Then she made a decision.

"Don’t move."

She turned and ran to a control panel mounted on the wall near the vault. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, entering commands faster than Alex could follow.

The footsteps in the corridor were right outside now. Someone was working on the door. Alex could hear mechanical sounds. Bypassing the lock from the outside.

"Amara, they’re coming through."

"I know! Just give me ten seconds." Her voice was tight with concentration.

The door began to open. Slowly. The heavy reinforcement made it move like it was pushing through mud.

A voice shouted from the other side. "Stand down! Security breach in progress! All personnel stand down!"

Amara’s fingers kept moving. She entered one final command and hit enter hard.

The alarms cut off instantly. The red emergency lights stopped flashing. And the laser grid around Alex disappeared.

"Go to the vault!" Amara pointed at the massive steel door at the far end of the room. "There’s an entry panel on the right side. When I tell you, enter code seven-seven-alpha-four-nine. Then wait there and stay quiet. I’ll handle this."

Alex grabbed his hand truck and ran for the vault. His ribs still ached from the fight earlier, but adrenaline was overriding the pain.

He reached the vault and found the entry panel. His fingers hovered over the keypad, waiting for her signal.

The main door burst open.

Armed security personnel flooded into the room. Six of them at least. Maybe more. All with weapons drawn and ready.

And behind them, a man walked in. Shorter than Alex had expected. Maybe five foot seven. Mid-fifties with graying hair that was carefully styled. Expensive suit that was tailored to hide a developing gut. His face had the kind of practiced charm that politicians spent years perfecting.

President Ruiz.

He stopped when he saw Amara.

She was on the floor now. Sitting with her back against the control panel. Her head was down. Hair falling loose from the ponytail. She had a bottle in her hand that she must have pulled from somewhere. Whiskey maybe. It was half empty.

She looked up at Ruiz with glassy eyes. Drunk. Or doing a damn good impression of it.

From where Alex stood by the vault, he could see the whole scene. There was a small camera feed on the entry panel showing the room behind him. He watched through that.

Ruiz’s expression changed immediately. The political charm disappeared, replaced by concern that looked genuine. He moved toward her quickly.

"Amara? What’s wrong, honey?" He knelt down beside her, one hand reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"Don’t touch me." Her voice was slurred. She pulled away from his hand.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ruiz’s voice was still soft, but there was an edge to it now. Frustration bleeding through the concern.

Amara looked at him. Her eyes were unfocused but there was anger burning underneath. "Me wrong? You’re asking me what’s wrong with me?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You’re the one who’s wrong, Ruiz. You short bastard."

From his position at the vault, Alex watched the camera feed. ’So that’s President Ruiz. He’s even shorter than I thought. What the hell does Amara see in him?’

Ruiz’s face tightened. The concerned husband mask slipped for just a second, showing something harder underneath. He stood up and turned to the security personnel still standing at the door with weapons ready.

"Everyone out. Now."

"Sir, security protocol requires—"

"I said everyone out!" His voice cracked like a whip. "My wife is having a personal crisis. She doesn’t need an audience. Wait in the corridor. That’s an order."

The security team hesitated for maybe two seconds. Then they filed out. The door closed behind them with a heavy thud.

Ruiz turned back to Amara. When he spoke again, his voice had changed completely. The warmth was gone. What remained was cold and sharp.

"If you think this little performance is going to change anything, you’re delusional. Do you hear me?"

Amara looked up at him. "Your technology. That fucking molecular assembly system you pushed through. Do you have any idea what it’s done? The poor are suffering more than ever. People are starving while the rich create mansions out of thin air."

"That’s progress, Amara. Every advancement has casualties."

"Casualties?" She tried to stand but stumbled. He didn’t help her. "You’re talking about human beings like they’re acceptable losses in your grand vision. And now you want to build that wall. Separate the rich districts from the poor ones completely. Make it official that there are two different worlds in this city."

’Walls? what’s that ’. Alex thought

"The wall is necessary. Security. Order. Structure."

"It’s segregation! You’re creating a permanent underclass and you don’t even care!" Her voice broke slightly. "When did you become this? When did you stop seeing people as people?"

Ruiz’s jaw tightened. "When I realized that sentimentality doesn’t build empires. You want to save everyone. I want to build something that lasts. We’re different, Amara. We’ve always been different."

"Then why did you marry me?"

"Because you were useful." He said it simply. Matter of fact. "The people loved you. The caring, compassionate First Lady. Good for my image. But your bleeding heart has become a liability lately."

Amara flinched like he’d hit her.

Ruiz walked toward the door, then stopped and looked back. "You’re not leaving this room until you realize your mistakes. Until you understand that my vision for this city is the only one that matters. And if you try to create any chaos, if you try to undermine me publicly, I’ll make sure everyone knows about your little drinking problem." He gestured at the bottle. "Do we understand each other?"

She didn’t answer. Just stared at him with something that looked like hatred.

"I’ll take that as a yes." He walked to the door and opened it. "Make sure the First Lady stays comfortable. She’s not feeling well."

Then he was gone. The door closed behind him.

Amara sat there for a long moment. Not moving. Just breathing.

Then she stood up slowly and walked toward the vault. Toward where Alex was waiting.

When she reached him, her composure finally cracked.

Tears started running down her face. Not delicate crying. Real sobs that shook her whole body.

"He’s trying to destroy everything. The wall. The segregation. Everything I tried to build. Everything I believed we could be together." Her voice broke completely. "And he doesn’t even care."

"Hey. Hey, don’t cry." Alex didn’t think. He just moved forward and pulled her into his arms.

She collapsed against his chest, her hands gripping his uniform jacket like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

Alex held her while she cried. His mind was racing.

’So this is what it’s all about. She actually cares. Actually gives a shit about people while her husband treats them like statistics.’

A notification appeared in his vision.

[New Quest: Emotional Support]

[Objective: Calm Amara Okafor and engage in intimate relations]

[Reward: Molecular Assembly Access + 150 Stat Points + Mission Chain Restoration]

[Note: Subject is emotionally vulnerable. Approach with care.]

Alex stared at the notification.

’What the fuck? How am I supposed to get her to have sex with me right now? She’s crying about her asshole husband destroying the city and the system wants me to seduce her?’

He looked down at Amara. She was still sobbing against his chest, her whole body shaking.

’There’s no way. This is impossible. Even if I tried, even if I wanted to, she’s not in any state for that. And even thinking about it right now makes me feel like a piece of shit.’

"June, what the hell is this quest? How am I supposed to pull this off?"

Silence.

"June?"

[I cannot provide guidance on interpersonal intimate situations. That falls outside my operational parameters.]

"That’s not helpful!"

Alex looked at the reward again. Molecular Assembly Access. 150 stat points. Mission chain restoration. Everything he needed to complete his actual mission and get out of this world.

But Amara was crying in his arms because her husband was a monster and she’d just had her entire belief system shattered.

’My charm stat is decent, but it’s not going to work here. She’s not thinking about attraction right now. She’s thinking about her marriage falling apart and her city being destroyed.’

Then another thought hit him.

’My luck stat. If it was higher, would the probability change? Would circumstances just... align differently?’

"June, what’s my current luck of getting her to... you know. In her current emotional state."

[Calculating probability based on current emotional parameters, relationship status, and environmental factors... Estimated probability: 12 percent.]

"Twelve percent. That’s terrible."

[Correct. Subject is experiencing significant emotional distress. Romantic or sexual advances would likely be rejected or cause additional trauma.]

"But if my luck stat was higher? Significantly higher? Would that change?"

[Luck stat influences probability of favorable circumstances. Higher luck would increase the chance of situations naturally evolving in desired directions. Current luck: 51. If luck were substantially elevated, probability would increase proportionally.]

Alex remembered the stat points. Twenty of them. From the quest with Sienna that he’d never allocated.

’Thank god I haven’t used them yet.’

"June, I want to allocate all twenty available stat points to luck. Do it now."

[Confirmed. Allocating 20 points to luck stat. New luck value: 71.]

Alex felt something shift. Nothing dramatic. Just a subtle sense that things might work out better than expected.

"What’s the probability now?"

[Recalculating with new luck parameters... Estimated probability: 34 percent.]

Still not great. But better than twelve.

Amara was still crying, but the sobs were getting quieter now. Her breathing was starting to slow.

Alex held her carefully. One hand on her back. The other gently touching her hair.

"It’s going to be okay," he said quietly.

"No it’s not." Her voice was muffled against his chest. "Nothing’s okay. He’s going to build that wall and condemn thousands of people and I can’t stop him."

"Maybe you can’t stop him. But that doesn’t mean you failed."

She pulled back slightly to look at him. Her eyes were red. Tears still running down her cheeks. "How can you say that? I’m the First Lady. I’m supposed to have influence. I’m supposed to matter. And I can’t even make my own husband listen to me."

"You matter to the people you help. The ones who see you actually trying. That counts for something."

"Does it?" She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Because right now it feels like I’m just a prop in his political theater. The compassionate wife to balance out his ruthlessness."

Alex reached up and gently wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "You’re not a prop. You’re the only person in that entire administration who actually gives a shit about real people. That’s not nothing."

She looked at him. Really looked. Her brown eyes searching his face for something.

"Why are you even here, Alex? How did you get into a presidential vault wearing a security disguise?"

"Long story. Very long story."

"I have time." But her voice was softer now. Less broken.

"I will tell you everything. I promise. But right now, I just want to make sure you’re okay."

Amara’s hand came up and rested on his chest. Right over his heart. She could probably feel it beating fast.

"You know what’s funny?" she said quietly.

"What?"

"I barely know you. We’ve had one dinner. Almost kissed once. And you’re the first person in months who’s made me feel like maybe I’m not completely alone in all of this."

Her hand moved slightly. Not pulling away. Just... resting there. Feeling him.

"You’re not alone," Alex said.

She looked up at him. The tears had stopped. Her eyes were still red but there was something else there now. Something that looked like need.

"Alex..."

"Yeah?"

She leaned in and kissed him.

Her lips were soft but urgent. Desperate. Like she needed this to feel something other than pain.

Alex kissed her back. His hand moved to cup her face. Gentle. Careful.

She pressed closer against him. Her hands moved up his chest, feeling the fabric of his uniform, then higher to his shoulders.

When she finally pulled back, her breathing had changed. Still uneven, but for different reasons now.

"I shouldn’t be doing this," she whispered.

"Probably not."

"But I don’t care right now." Her hands were still on his chest. Still moving. "I just need to feel something that isn’t pain."

Alex looked at her. At the vulnerability in her eyes. At the way she was looking at him like he might be able to make everything better, even just for a little while.

"Then don’t think about it," he said quietly. "Just feel."

She kissed him again.