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Not to mention, they’re running between our legs so much that we can barely take another step.
Oakleigh immediately crouches down, cooing at an orange ball of fluff that keeps walking between her feet.
Her face is lit up with joy in its purest fucking form, and I don’t know how she can be so happy in here.
All I am is overwhelmed.
Even though this isn’t exactly my cup of tea, I have to hand it to the owner.
They did a really good job making this look like a fully functioning café, with the whole ‘adopt me’ cat element.
Each cat has a collar with a name tag, and on the wall to the right, there’s a board that tells you the age, sex, breed, and some information about the cat.
I make it a point to walk around the place and look around, still scanning out the glass door every once in a while.
There is a very real threat out there, but I do all I can to not focus on it.
Elias might be part of the Bolivian cartel, but the Ramirez cartel and Lopez cartel are thickly interwoven within the club.
Amara, Razor, and Rosa all have Ramirez blood flowing through their veins, while Amara’s husband is one of the Lopez sons.
If Elias was smart, he’d drop this shit and move on.
Alas, we know he’s not smart, and I can guarantee there’s going to be some sort of bloodshed happening soon.
Suddenly, a voice as smooth as honey comes out of nowhere. “Ah, you must be Oakleigh! I’m Astra. It’s so nice to meet you.”
I don’t pay any attention to the woman. Instead, I keep looking around the shop.
The orange cat that was just harassing Oakleigh and I jumps up into one of the trees.
It climbs around the top and shoves a silver-ish blue-looking cat on the ground.
The cat barely catches himself and cries out, so I kneel down and check it over. “You okay, little buddy?”
The cat instantly starts purring, the name on his collar reading ‘Blue’.
Oakleigh and Astra babble away while I pay attention to the cat.
He seems fine, given the fact he’s purring like a damn machine.
The cat jumps up into my arms, and I’m forced to hold the furball.
I don’t even fucking like cats.
I turn around, and the second my eyes settle on her, I swear time stops.
She’s a vision with fiery red hair in black skin-tight jeans, a form-fitting emerald green tank top sort of blouse, and black heels.
Add in the fact she has ghostly-white skin, her eyes are an unearthly green, and the combination of her sharp cheekbones and jawline—I’m a fucking goner.
She has a name that’s out of this world, and I swear she is too.
2
Astra
I lean back against the counter, wiping sweat from my brow.
