Beneath the surface

Ethan sat in a corner booth at a quiet café two blocks from the Lennox Gallery, his notebook open to a blank page. His coffee sat untouched, its steam curling into the air as he replayed the conversation with Kai Lennox in his mind.

Kai was guarded—almost too guarded. Every answer he gave felt calculated, as if he’d anticipated every possible question Ethan could ask. But it wasn’t just the answers; it was the way Kai had watched him, those sharp green eyes studying him with an unsettling intensity.

Ethan tapped his pen against the page. Something didn’t add up.

He opened the folder he’d been given before taking this assignment, flipping through the documents and photographs inside. Kai Lennox’s official record was maddeningly sparse: born and raised in New York, formally trained in fine arts, rose to prominence in his mid-20s with a controversial series called Fragments. Then came the abrupt disappearance of his early works and a complete stylistic shift.

There were whispers, of course—rumors of black-market deals, shadowy patrons, and a connection to the Black Thorn syndicate. But whispers weren’t enough.

Ethan closed the folder and sighed. He needed something concrete, something Kai couldn’t explain away with his cryptic artist persona.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Cross,” he said, answering it.

A familiar voice crackled on the other end. “Did you make contact?”

Ethan leaned back in his seat, lowering his voice. “I did. He’s as difficult as they said he’d be.”

“And the paintings?”

“There’s definitely something there. I just need more time to figure out what.”

“Time’s a luxury we don’t have,” the voice replied sharply. “Black Thorn is planning something big, and if Lennox is involved, we need to know now.”

Ethan clenched his jaw. “I’ll get you what you need. Just don’t blow my cover.”

The line went dead, and Ethan slipped the phone back into his pocket.

----------------

Later That Night

Kai stood in the middle of his studio, staring at the painting he’d been working on earlier. The colors bled into one another, their edges blurred and chaotic, but to Kai, every stroke had a purpose. Every shadow, every highlight, was deliberate.

And so was the message hidden beneath them.

He wiped his hands on a rag, his mind racing. The call he’d received earlier had been brief but clear: Black Thorn wanted another painting. A new message, encoded and ready by the end of the week.

Kai gritted his teeth. He’d been trying to find a way out for years, but Black Thorn had a way of pulling him back in.

The knock at the studio door startled him. His head snapped up, heart pounding, until he heard Emily’s voice.

“Kai, it’s me.”

He exhaled sharply and crossed the room, unlocking the door. Emily stepped inside, her expression unusually tense.

“You’ve got company downstairs,” she said.

Kai frowned. “Who?”

“Ethan Cross. He said he forgot to ask something earlier.”

Kai cursed under his breath. The journalist had been more persistent than most, but this was bordering on intrusive.

“What did you tell him?” Kai asked.

“That you were busy, but he’s waiting in the gallery,” Emily said. “Want me to send him away?”

Kai hesitated. Part of him wanted to tell her yes, to get rid of him and avoid whatever questions Ethan was dying to ask. But another part of him—the part that was always on guard—wanted to know why Ethan had come back.

“No,” Kai said finally. “I’ll handle it.”

----------------

Ethan stood in the center of the gallery, his hands in his pockets as he pretended to study one of the paintings on display. He heard the faint click of approaching footsteps and turned just as Kai emerged from the shadows.

“You again,” Kai said, his tone flat.

Ethan offered a sheepish smile. “I hate leaving a job unfinished.”

“This isn’t a job,” Kai replied, crossing his arms. “It’s my life. And I don’t appreciate unannounced visits.”

“I won’t take up much of your time,” Ethan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I just had a few follow-up questions. Something about your process struck me.”

Kai’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t walk away. “Go on.”

Ethan gestured to one of the paintings, a swirling vortex of deep blues and fiery oranges. “You said earlier that your work isn’t meant to provide answers, but this piece—it feels like it’s screaming something. Like it’s trying to say something urgent.”

Kai’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond.

“What I’m trying to understand,” Ethan continued, stepping closer, “is where that urgency comes from. What drives you to create something so raw, so… desperate?”

Kai’s expression darkened, and for a moment, Ethan thought he’d gone too far.

“I paint because I have to,” Kai said finally, his voice low. “Not because I want to. And certainly not to explain myself to people like you.”

“Fair enough,” Ethan said, holding up his hands again. “But I can’t help wondering what you’re hiding.”

The tension between them was obvious now, an electric current that neither of them could ignore.

Kai stepped closer, his eyes locked on Ethan’s. “You’re awfully curious for a journalist. Maybe a little too curious.”

Ethan forced himself to stay calm. “Curiosity’s my job. Isn’t that why you agreed to meet with me in the first place?”

Kai didn’t respond, but his gaze lingered on Ethan for a moment longer before he turned away.

“This conversation is over,” Kai said, walking toward the studio door. “And don’t come back uninvited again.”

Ethan watched him go, his mind racing.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***