I shake my head gently, offering a careful smile. “I appreciate the temptation, but I have an early morning.” The excuse is plausible enough to be believed, even if Levi’s reading between the lines in the way only he can.
He doesn’t press. Instead, he steps closer, reaching up to cup my jaw, thumb tracing across my cheekbone as he tilts his face toward mine. When he kisses me, it’s slow and deliberate, adoration woven through each careful brush of lips.
“Sleep well, Funeral Guy.”
“You, too,” I murmur, stepping carefully back into the embraceof night. Not quite retreating into my shadows, but not quite stepping into the light, either.
• • •
Sleep eludes me.The bedroom ceiling stares back, dull and carefully blank. Lorraine’s words loop through my thoughts, a refrain of twisted threads, tangled destinies, quiet warnings echoed in infuriating rhythms.
Seby purrs at the foot of the bed. “You’re no help,” I mutter, running fingers through his fur. His amber eyes blink, acknowledging my unrest without offering solutions.
If Lorraine believes she can upend my life, perhaps I can return the favor.
I rise and get dressed.
Outside, Stonevale sleeps under moonlight. City hall looms ahead, its façade calm as I approach.
Inside, lights flicker, casting shadows across polished floors, and when I open the office door, Lorraine, Constance, and Agnes sit ready in the silence.
Lorraine lifts her gaze first. “Hayden, what an unexpected pleasure at this hour.”
“Thought I’d return the favor,” I reply, turmoil threading through my chest. “You’ve been meddling. Again.”
Constance taps a finger against the stack of papers in front of her, amusement in her voice. “We don’t meddle, Hayden. We merely observe.”
“Observation with unnecessary commentaryismeddling,” I counter, stepping forward. “Lorraine seemed particularly curious about my mortal affairs.”
Lorraine meets my gaze. “Your threadshavebecome tangled, Hayden. Choices, careful or otherwise, have complicatedthe patterns. We’ve noticed your…withdrawal from certain pursuits.”
“Perhaps I’m questioning my priorities,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Perhaps I’m realizing what I’ve been chasing isn’t as valuable as I once thought.”
Agnes carefully leans forward, her voice probing. “And clarity rarely comes without complication. A certain mortal thread weaving into yours, perhaps?”
“Levi isn’t part of your game.”
Constance’s smile is knowing. “But he is part of yours now, isn’t he? Your threads weave more deeply than we’ve seen in a long while. Threads tighten, Hayden. Tighter than you realize. And when they do…something always gives.”
I can’t help but think how every secret I keep from him feels heavier than the last. I’ve always lived by restraint, by control…but the closer he gets, the harder it is to remember why the distance ever felt like safety.
“You’re not the only one whose threads have shifted recently, Hayden,” Lorraine interjects, voice cool as if she’s delivering a diagnosis. “Your careful detachment has created ripples. Threads of those closest to you, family threads, have shifted in response.”
Zane’s and Porter’s faces flash through my mind. Zane’s careful, controlled strength, and Porter’s quiet, measured kindness. My brothers. Distant but always connected.
“They’ve reached out to you,” I say softly, realization hitting.
“We have spoken recently with those whose threads are tied to yours,” Lorraine confirms. “They’re aware of the changes within you.”
The idea that Zane and Porter, who have each carved new mortal paths, have sensed something shifting within me feels significant. Or unsettling.
I steady my voice. “What did they want?”
It’s Agnes who speaks up. “They wanted to know if you’d found what you’ve been searching for. They worry for you, Hayden. Perhaps more than you’ve realized.”
The words land heavy in my chest. My brothers, still tied to me despite the silence we’ve maintained.
“And what did you tell them?” I ask, trying to ignore the slight tremble in my voice.
