The calm before the storm

Ethan leaned against the hood of his car, his breath forming faint puffs of mist in the chilly night air. The park was eerily silent, the kind of quiet that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Shadows from the skeletal trees danced in the faint glow of a distant streetlamp, their shapes twisting like restless phantoms.

He checked his phone again. 11:58 PM.

Kai was cutting it close.

Ethan hated waiting, but he knew better than to let impatience cloud his focus. Instead, he let his mind wander, replaying every interaction he’d had with Kai Lennox since the moment he’d walked into that pristine gallery.

The artist had been an infuriating puzzle from the start—prickly and distant, with walls so thick that even the simplest questions felt like an assault. But there had been something else, too.

Fear.

Ethan hadn’t seen it immediately, hidden as it was behind Kai’s biting sarcasm and aloof demeanor. But as the layers began to peel back, the fear had become impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t the kind of fear that came from petty secrets or minor indiscretions. It was deeper, more primal—the kind of fear that came from living under someone else’s control.

Ethan exhaled slowly, his eyes scanning the darkened park. He wasn’t just here for answers anymore. Somewhere along the way, his investigation had shifted, the line between duty and something personal blurring in ways he wasn’t ready to confront.

It wasn’t just Kai’s connection to Black Thorn that kept Ethan up at night. It was the way Kai had looked at him in that alley, his green eyes flashing with defiance and desperation all at once. The way his voice had cracked on the phone earlier, the vulnerability bleeding through despite his best efforts to hide it.

Ethan hated it.

He hated that he cared.

Because caring meant risk. It meant compromise. And in his line of work, those things got people killed.

He reached into his jacket, his fingers brushing the cold steel of his Glock. The weight of it was comforting, grounding him in the reality of the situation.

Kai Lennox wasn’t a victim, Ethan reminded himself. He was a key player in one of the most dangerous syndicates in the city. Whether willingly or under duress, Kai had been helping Black Thorn for years, his encrypted paintings facilitating crimes Ethan didn’t even want to think about.

And yet…

Ethan closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Kai was more than just a pawn in Black Thorn’s game. There was something about the artist’s quiet resistance, which made Ethan believe he was fighting back in his own way.

The problem was, if Ethan got too close, he might lose the objectivity he needed to finish this job.

And yet, here he was, standing in a desolate park in the middle of the night, waiting for a man who was as much a suspect as he was a mystery.

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