Page 213 of Celestial Combat

“Perfect for travel.”

“Okay, my turn.” He stepped up to the next machine, one with oversized plush animals all dressed in ridiculous outfits. His eyes scanned the pile, and then he muttered with a smile, “No way.”

“What?”

“There’s a cat in a bowtie.” He turned to me, grinning. “Our little café friend.”

I laughed. “Oh, my God! Cute!”

He slipped in a coin, narrowed his eyes, and moved the claw with the seriousness of a man facing his destiny. One try. That’s all it took. The claw dropped, grabbed the cat by itsridiculous oversized head, and lifted it like divine intervention had taken the wheel.

He pulled it from the chute and turned to me, smug. “For the woman who made me drink matcha next to a cat in a tuxedo.”

I couldn’t stop laughing as he shoved the absurdly giant cat plush into my arms. “This is ridiculous. It’s bigger than the tanukiandme.”

Laughing,we wandered out of the arcade with our prizes tucked under our arms – my tanuki nestled in my jacket pocket, the giant cat somehow fitting under my arm as we walked.

The sky above was streaked with navy and bruised lavender, the last sliver of red and orange clinging stubbornly to the horizon. It lit the glass towers in molten gold, shadows climbing their way upward while neon signs flickered to life below.

Zane slipped his hand into mine, warm and steady. His thumb brushed over my knuckles like he wasn’t even thinking about it – just instinct. That tiny, familiar pressure grounded me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

“My cheeks hurt,” I said, rubbing my face.

“From smiling?”

“From laughing at you.”

He chuckled and gave me a mock-offended look. “You wound me.”

“You’ll live.” I winked and leaned into his side.

“You had fun?” he asked, glancing sideways at me with that little half-smile of his. The one that said he already knew the answer but liked hearing it anyway.

“I got a cat in a bowtie… Yeah, I had fun!”

“Fun’s not over yet.”

He tugged me gently down the sidewalk. The crowd split around us, like we were just another love story drifting through the city.

The sky above us deepened to ink, and the city turned its lights on like stars. Whatever was coming next, it was already humming in the air between us. And I felt it like a promise: the night was just getting started.

But somehow, even in the middle of it all, it felt like just us.

Him. Me. A raccoon. And a cat in a bowtie.

TheLamborghini pulled up to a massive parking structure – the kind that curled up into the sky like a spine of concrete. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, humming with age. The air smelled like rubber and gasoline, electric with adrenaline. I stepped out beside Zane and felt the world tilt a little, the city sprawling wide and bright behind us like a glittering ocean of chrome and chaos.

Engines snarled in the distance.

Then I saw them.

Lined up like a gallery of predators – sleek bodies and guttural growls – each car wore its own identity. Candy-colored paint jobs shimmered under the fluorescent glow. Spoilers like wings. Neon tubes pulsing underneath like veins. It was like stepping into a dream built from speed and oil and rebellion.

The crew was already revving, the sound low and dangerous. More than some of them lit up when they spotted Zane. Walking towards us, and shaking hands and exchanging hugs as Zane made our introduction.

These weren’t strangers. They were part of his past, etched into him like faded scars and familiar streets.

Zane tossed me the keys for the Lamborghini while one friend gave him the keys to a matte black Maclaren, blood-red trim, beastly and unapologetic.

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