Unraveled Threads (Midnight Falls #30)

Chapter One

Chapter One

Z a v i a n strolled through the quiet streets of Midnight Falls, hands tucked behind his back. The night was quiet, the only sounds a dog barking in the distance and the occasional car rambling by. When he did pass someone, that person evoked a dull buzz of static in his mind, their entire existence downloaded in a mere two seconds. As a fireman passed, Zavian stifled a yawn. Another predictable life: marry, kids, white picket fence. Where was the thrill, the high stakes?

He yearned for an unexpected twist. The woman crossing the street would discover her husband cheating on her, get divorced, then find her dream man. The wolf shifter entering the diner? He would be dead in a few years, killed by hellhounds. Too much muscle, not enough brains.

Just once, Zavian wished he could feel the potential of an unborn child’s future and think “Ooh, now there’s someone who’s going to change the world!”

Those cases were few and far between, and sometimes not for the better.

As he continued down the street, the air smelled of rain and fresh bread from Bluebird Cafe. But underneath it all, he could smell the unmistakable scent of boredom. Still, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries pulled him toward the cafe. A small bit of excitement in his otherwise dreary existence.

He had responsibilities, sure. But after millions of years, even the most joyful duties lost their shine.

The faint chatter of the cafe patrons mingled with the sound of Zavian’s own heavy sighs, creating a backdrop of white noise he easily tuned out.

Stepping into line, Zavian glanced at the chalkboard with the day’s specials. Of course nothing piqued his interest except for his coffee.

Maybe he would get a slice of lemon loaf just to see if—

He pulled his phone out when it buzzed in his pocket. Now what did Aldrin want?

Not today.

He wasn’t answering. Call it petty, but he was still pissed at Aldrin. Panahasi—Life—had once again interfered with one of Zavian’s decrees. And instead of backing Zavian, Aldrin had coddled Panahasi.

And Zavian had every right to punish Life for what the guy had done.

Screw both of them.

A smile curled his lips. He saw everyone’s destiny, even the most powerful beings. Aldrin would shit kittens if he knew “Fate” was able to see how it all ended.

The primal source prided himself on being the omnipotent who had created the universe, which he was, with help, but Zavian was Fate, so not even Aldrin’s future was hidden from him.

He’d had the perfect opportunity to rub that in the man’s face, but Zavian was trying to turn over a new leaf. He inhaled a few breaths and let them out slowly, quietly reciting his new mantra.

“ Grant me the patience for the things I can’t kill, the happiness to kill the things I can, and the wisdom to actually give a shit about the first one.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes.” The stranger’s voice was smoky, like embers glowing in the dark—soft and dangerous, each word curling through the air like a tendril of heat that refused to dissipate.

As the lion shifter turned, Zavian’s breath caught at the sight of his striking appearance. Silken brown hair framed a chiseled jaw, his neatly groomed beard adding a rugged, refined edge. Zavian imagined running his hand through those strands, feeling their softness against his fingers.

His gaze lingered on the sharp angles of the stranger’s features, taking in every detail with fascination.

Shaking himself mentally, Zavian tried to focus on anything else other than the handsome lion shifter who held a commanding presence.

“That’s how I recite it,” Zavian retorted, trying to brush off the nosy Nelly in front of him who needed to mind his own… A rare flicker of confusion filled him. He was used to seeing everyone’s destiny at a glance, but with this shifter...nothing.

A subtle tension coiled in his gut, and the familiar hum of destiny’s tapestry—the constant whisper in his mind—fell silent. It was an unnerving quiet, something that had never happened before.

Now, he stood in an emptiness of knowledge, his usual certainty shredded. As Fate itself, not being able to see this man’s future left Zavian feeling unsettled and unsure. What did it mean?

“Is it really that bad?”

There was something magnetic in his tone. It wasn’t loud or overbearing, but it drew Zavian in, as if he’d fall apart if he missed even a single word.

Pull your shit together.

“You’re next at the counter.” Zavian crossed his arms, refusing to allow Mr. Dark and Smoky to see the crack in his armor. He tried one more time to read the shifter’s future, and once again, he was met with nothing.

A slow smile curled the stranger’s lips, but it wasn’t just the smile that drew Zavian in. It was the way his gaze lingered, sharp and heated, as though he was imagining every inch of Zavian unraveling under his hands. “Classic evasion.”

“Classic disinterest.” He pressed his lips together and folded his arms, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“You’re up, Doc,” Ajax called out.

It dawned on Zavian that, for the first time ever, he didn’t instantly know someone’s name. Mr. Dark and Smoky was a complete mystery to him.

Which was just as unsettling. Zavian had a deep sense of duty to maintain universal order, and his inability to read the lion shifter threatened that balance.

You just want an excuse to follow him so you can unravel more than just his mystery.

The thought froze Zavian, and for a moment, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

The lion shifter is not Melric .

Zavian didn’t just slam the lid on that thought. He soldered it closed and buried it in the deepest part of the ocean.

“ Hendrix Baldwin, by the way.”

Glancing up, Zavian saw Mr. Dark and Smoky—Hendrix, standing next to him, coffee in hand, eyes the color of melted chocolate gazing at him.

For a brief moment, Zavian stared at the outstretched hand and knew it would be soft despite how strong it appeared. He hesitated, filled with a sudden urge to learn more, to test this anomaly, maybe even to take that offered hand. But panic and pride squeezed his chest, forcing him to pivot on his heel.

He walked out of the café, no longer interested in his drink. No one got under his skin. He was an ancient, cosmic-level arbiter who enforced destiny and ensured decrees and bonds unfolded as intended. He would get to the bottom of why he couldn’t see Hendrix’s destiny.

And then balance would be restored. Even if that meant wiping Hendrix Baldwin from existence.

* * * *

That hadn’t gone exactly as Hendrix had hoped. He lingered for a moment, the radiating power still prickling his skin, before heading outside after his mate.

As soon as he stepped outside, Hendrix spotted the guy, wisps of smoke around him, as if he’d been ready to use the smoke to escape.

“Hold it right there.” Whatever was going on with his mate, Hendrix wasn’t going to let him simply run away. There was more to this than met the eye. He’d seen the hesitation, the resolve to act snide, and the vulnerability in his mate’s electric-blue eyes.

“How can you see me?” his mate demanded, taking a few steps toward him before he stopped and took a step back.

“With my eyes.” He noticed the slight tremble his mate was trying hard to hide. In his line of work, he’d seen plenty of people with varying degrees of trauma.

Whoever this powerful being was, the guy was carrying some kind of burden.

“Can I at least get your name?” Hendrix took a few steps closer then stopped, testing the boundaries his mate had set.

So far, the guy was sticking around.

For how long was a different question.

“How is it you can see me?” his mate repeated more firmly, the words coated with a little venom.

Hendrix narrowed his eyes. “And I answered you. It would be nice if you extended the same courtesy.”

“Zavian.” An ominous glint appeared in the depths of his blue eyes. Was the guy trying to intimidate him? “But you can call me Fate.”

Hendrix’s lion snarled at the way their mate was acting. It was as if he’d decided right off the bat to make Hendrix his enemy for some reason.

“That’s all well and good, Zavian, but I don’t remember saying anything that would cause you to act so hostile toward me. I was merely striking up a conversation with a nice-looking guy. I don’t see the harm in that, mate.”

Sighing deeply, Zavian shook his head, his silky black hair falling around his face. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but we’re not mates. I’m the one who decrees everyone’s path, never my own.”

Hendrix took two more steps forward. “So, you’re saying you get to hand out all the lollipops but can’t have one for yourself?”

Zavian frowned.

“I’m on pediatrics this week.” Hendrix shrugged unapologetically. “It was either that or graham crackers. You look more like a—”

“Sucker?” Zavian’s voice was velvet over steel, smooth and rich, but with an edge sharp enough to draw blood.

Lucky for Hendrix, his skin was made of Teflon.

“I was gonna say sweet.” He winked, ignoring the weight of the air pressing down on him. No doubt his mate’s doing. “Now answer my question.”

Zavian’s brow rose. “It’s precious how you think to command me.”

Hendrix wasn’t taking the bait. Zavian’s sharp words were meant to dig, but Hendrix wasn’t biting. He stood his ground, arms loose, a calm, steady presence against the fraying edges of Zavian’s composure. The lion in him stirred, sensing the undercurrent of tension rippling just beneath Fate’s polished surface.

“Command you?” Hendrix echoed, a touch of dry humor threading through his voice. He spread his hands slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal. “Nah. Not my style. I’m just asking for a little honesty. Seems fair, don’t you think?”

Zavian’s lips pressed together, his expression unreadable. Hendrix caught the way his shoulders stiffened, the subtle tension in his jaw. The air thickened, charged with that same faint hum Hendrix had felt earlier, like static crawling over his skin. The shimmer of smoke hovered near Zavian, faint but there, and Hendrix knew the guy was calculating. Debating. Maybe even preparing to bolt.

“You’re persistent,” Zavian finally said, his voice quiet.

Hendrix almost smiled. There was no mistaking that hidden sharpness, even when the words were silk-smooth. “You think because I haven’t left yet that you deserve answers?”

Hendrix shrugged, casual as ever, though he didn’t look away. “I think if you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be. That tells me there’s more to this than you’re willing to admit.”

Zavian’s gaze flicked to him, piercing and direct, as if trying to unearth Hendrix’s intentions with the sheer force of his will. The tension between them coiled tighter, like a bow string drawn taut, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then, almost imperceptibly, Zavian’s stance shifted. Not relaxed exactly, but it became less rigid.

“Polite conversation.” Zavian’s tone was unreadable, but the corner of his mouth curved—not a smile but something close. A flicker of amusement, maybe. “That’s what this is?”

“It’s what I call it,” Hendrix replied easily, his tone even, but his lion rumbled low inside him, restless in the charged atmosphere Zavian carried like a storm cloud. “What do you call it?”

Zavian’s blue eyes narrowed faintly, the shadows around him twisting unnaturally under the streetlamp. Hendrix didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back, but his lion stirred, watching. Ready.

“I call it you being nosy about my mantra,” Zavian said, though there was less heat in his words this time, more curiosity. He was watching Hendrix now, studying him like an unsolvable riddle, his head tilting slightly to one side. “You don’t even know why I said it.”

“Maybe not.” Hendrix kept his voice calm. “But I’m not walking away without giving us a chance.”

Something raw flickered in Zavian’s eyes, but it was gone almost instantly. Hendrix didn’t press. He just stood there, watching the subtle war play out in the tilt of Zavian’s head, the way his fingers flexed and relaxed at his sides.

“I’m going to figure you out,” Zavian said, his tone softer, almost contemplative.

“I have nothing to hide, sweetheart.” Hendrix let the faintest smile touch his lips. “Can you say the same?”

For a moment, Zavian didn’t respond. The weight of his gaze lingered, searching, questioning, but Hendrix held steady. He wasn’t pushing, just waiting, offering Zavian the space to decide.

At last, Zavian exhaled, his posture easing ever so slightly. “You’re not getting answers tonight, lion.” His tone was firm but without the harshness from earlier. “But you’ve… piqued my interest.”

Hendrix inclined his head, accepting the words for what they were. A crack in the wall, a tiny opening. He didn’t need more. Not yet. “Fair enough.”

Zavian’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before he turned, slipping into the shadows with an effortless grace. Hendrix stayed rooted, watching him disappear into the night. He didn’t follow. Some people needed space to come back on their own terms, and Zavian wasn’t someone you chased.

“See you around, mate ,” Hendrix murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He glanced down at the cooling coffee in his hand, a faint chuckle escaping him.

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot .

And honestly? He was okay with that. Mysteries didn’t scare him. Zavian didn’t scare him.

If anything, Hendrix was even more determined to peel back Zavian’s layers to find out exactly who he was inside.