Maluck woke up and did the same thing he always did—checked his stats.

  Bad Luck Points at 40. Luck Points at 195.

  ‘Not bad,’ he thought, ‘really glad that I did that casino run earlier.’

  He checked the store, scanning over what was available today. ‘What’s in the store today?’

  ?50 LP – The Unfailing Map: No matter where you are, it always shows the best route to safety, treasure, or success.

  ?100 LP – The Whispering Coin: When flipped, it softly tells you which choice will bring the best outcome. Only speaks once per day.

  ?75 LP – The Clover Compass: Points toward opportunity, but never tells you what it is.

  ‘Arrgh, all these choices look great! Why isn’t there a lock store items function? Maluck thought. If I could just keep them, that would be amazing. I’d hoard item choices like a dragon hoards gold… or like a game character hordes loot in his inventory for “boss fights” in the future.’

  He was tempted to blow a bunch of Luck Points on something, but even more tempted to see what would happen when he finally leveled his Luck up to Level 3. He was getting close. After learning his lesson about never draining his Luck Points completely, he decided to invest 100 LP into leveling up his System.

  Luck Level: 110/200.

  ‘Doesn’t do much for me today,’ he thought, ‘but at this rate, I’ll hit Level 3 soon enough.’

  Speaking of the next few days, there was still a ton of cleanup work to do for Cars 4 A Better Future. But that would come after his and Chloe’s gym session. That was something he never skipped—especially now that he could see the direct impact training had on his stats.

  Cass was still digging into the real owners behind the charity. Dennis was just a middleman, but who was actually at the top? A corrupt politician? A group of shady investors?

  Maluck smirked. ‘Can’t wait to find out.’

  Maluck stretched, still half-buried in the blankets, and lazily reached for his phone to confirm what he already knew—breakfast was on the way. He had definitely gotten used to this life. Waking up, checking his stats, and ordering hotel breakfast like some kind of spoiled executive.

  Chloe had adapted even faster. She was still sprawled across the bed, looking way too comfortable, flipping through her phone like she was waiting for a royal attendant to bring her food.

  Knock knock.

  “Ah, there it is,” Maluck muttered, crawling out of bed with the grace of a man who definitely wasn’t in a rush to start the day. He grabbed the hotel robe—because why not?—and went to the door.

  The staff, as usual, didn’t disappoint. He rolled the cart in, uncovering a proper southern-style breakfast. Warm, fluffy biscuits, drenched in thick, peppery white gravy. Crispy hash browns, golden and perfect. Scrambled eggs, soft and buttery. And, of course, a side of bacon, because of course there was bacon.

  “Biscuits and gravy?” Chloe peeked over, raising an eyebrow. “You finally got sick of steak and eggs?”

  “I occasionally enjoy variety,” Maluck said, taking his plate and plopping back onto the bed. “Besides, I wanted to feel like a southern oil baron today.”

  Chloe smirked, grabbing her own plate and stealing a crispy hash brown. “So, what’s the plan, Mr. Baron?”

  Maluck took a bite of his biscuit, savoring the rich, creamy gravy. ‘Damn. Hotel’s out here making it hard to be ambitious in the morning.’

  “First?” he said, licking a bit of gravy off his thumb. “We eat. Then? We finish taking over a charity.”

  ***

  Maluck stretched out on the bed, feeling completely satisfied with his breakfast. Biscuits and gravy had been an excellent choice. He had plans to meet Cass in the afternoon after his workout, but first, there was something far more important.

  He reached over and swatted Chloe on the butt.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Alright, girl, you gotta get back into training.”

  Chloe groaned, face still buried in the pillow. “This is bullshit. Who the hell trains after biscuits and gravy? That’s a crime against digestion.”

  “You do,” Maluck said, grinning. “Because you’re the world’s best thief.”

  Chloe let out a muffled, dramatic uuugghhh into the pillow but sat up anyway, rubbing her face like a raccoon who had just woken up in a garbage can.

  “Speaking of which,” Maluck continued, “have you found a security school you want to join yet?”

  “Oh yeah, we did talk about that! I picked out a good one.”

  “When are you starting?”

  Chloe grabbed her phone, scrolled through her emails, then froze like a deer caught in high beams.

  “Eep! I’m actually starting today.”

  Maluck blinked. “What time?”

  She stared at the screen, her eyes widening in sheer horror. “…Uh. Fifteen minutes from now?”

  “Holy crap,” Maluck said, sitting up. “You should get your sweet ass in gear then!”

  Chloe instantly went into freak-out mode, launching herself out of bed like she was dodging sniper fire.

  “Why didn’t you remind me?!” she shrieked, hopping on one foot while struggling to shove her other foot into a shoe.

  Maluck smirked. “Because this is way funnier.”

  She threw a pillow at him. He dodged.

  “I’m taking the car!” she shouted, grabbing her bag and scrambling toward the door like a sneaky racoon fleeing a crime scene.

  “You bet, hun,” Maluck said, barely holding back laughter.

  The door slammed behind her. He stretched back out, hands behind his head, grinning.

  ‘Man, that was entertaining. Now time for my own training. Gym ‘O Clock!’

  ***

  POV : Sentinel Academy

  Chloe sped through traffic, the Hellburst growling like an angry beast as she weaved through the morning rush. She had exactly fourteen minutes to get to Sentinel Academy, park, and figure out where the hell she was supposed to go.

  ‘No big deal. First impressions aren’t important or anything,’ she thought sarcastically, gripping the wheel.

  She hadn’t even meant to start today. When she picked out the program, she’d assumed she had at least a few days before she had to actually be anywhere. But nope—turns out Sentinel Academy wasn’t in the business of letting people sit around.

  “Training starts immediately. Don’t be late.”

  That was the message on her confirmation email.

  Chloe pulled into the parking lot with exactly two minutes to spare, slammed the car into park, and bolted for the entrance. The academy was built like a sleek, modern fortress—dark glass, reinforced doors, and discreet cameras tracking every movement.

  Inside, a front desk receptionist barely glanced up before handing her a visitor’s badge and pointing her down the hall.

  “First floor, Room 107. And don’t run.”

  Chloe immediately speed-walked instead.

  When she stepped into Room 107, she was met with about twenty other students sitting at sleek black desks. Some of them looked like they actually belonged here—burly guys with military buzz cuts, private security types in polo shirts with company logos, and at least one guy who definitely had worked as a bouncer.

  Then there were a few others who seemed… less traditional.

  Like the woman wearing six-inch stilettos.

  And the guy in a hoodie who looked like he hadn’t slept in three days.

  Chloe took a seat somewhere in the middle. She was just pulling out her notebook when the instructor walked in—a lean, no-nonsense woman in a tactical uniform with a short blond bob and sharp eyes.

  “Welcome to Sentinel Academy. I’m Instructor Valen. If you’re here, it means you’re interested in security, intelligence, or investigative work. Or, in some cases, you’re required to be here because your employer thinks you’re incompetent.”

  A couple of people shifted uncomfortably. Chloe bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

  “This program isn’t about theory. You will learn here by doing. We train security professionals, law enforcement, and corporate investigators. If you’re here for a hobby, you might as well leave now.”

  Nobody moved.

  “Good. Then let’s start simple.”

  Instructor Valen walked over to the desk, reached into a duffel bag, and dumped out a pile of locks, handcuffs, and metal tools.

  “Lockpicking 101. Who here already knows how to do it?”

  A few people raised their hands, including Hoodie Guy, who smirked like he was about to flex on the entire class.

  Valen nodded. “Great. You get the challenge locks.”

  She grabbed a different pile—locks that looked way meaner, with extra pins and some that didn’t even have keyholes.

  “For everyone else, we’ll start with the basics. If you can’t open a simple padlock by the end of the class, you fail.”

  Chloe grinned. ‘This is going to be so much fun.’

  Chloe was handed a lockpicking set, a basic practice lock, and zero instructions beyond: “Figure it out.”

  She wasn’t worried.

  She inserted the tension wrench, felt for the pins, and started gently applying pressure.

  Click. Click.

  Her first lock popped open in under a minute.

  Not bad.

  She glanced over at Hoodie Guy, who was absolutely speedrunning through his locks. He looked up, met her gaze, and smirked like he was the reigning champ of an underground lockpicking tournament.

  Chloe raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, it’s on.’

  For the next hour, the classroom turned into a quiet battle of clicks and tumbles. Chloe got through her second lock in 40 seconds. Then her third in 30.

  By the time Valen walked over to check, Chloe was casually spinning her lockpicks between her fingers.

  Valen nodded approvingly. “Not bad, new girl.”

  Hoodie Guy scowled.

  After lockpicking, the class moved on to situational awareness drills—spotting security weaknesses, identifying exits, and basic misdirection tactics.

  At the end of class, Valen handed out their first assignment.

  “By the end of the month, I want each of you to find and document five security flaws in a public place. Real-world practice. Take pictures, write descriptions, and suggest how they could be exploited or improved.”

  Chloe perked up.

  ‘Oh, Maluck is gonna love this one.’

  She made a mental note to bring it up later.

  After all, she was already learning a lot—and if she was going to be the world’s best thief, she might as well start with a professional education.

  ***