Chapter 26 – Shadows on the Canvas
The city lights flickered like a sea of stars as Ethan stepped out of the discreet black car. He pulled his coat tighter around his frame, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The invitation burned like a secret in his pocket.
He had told the driver he was "going for air," carefully avoiding Adrian's questions. Adrian had been buried in late-night meetings and, for once, hadn't pressed. Ethan hated himself for the relief that allowed him to slip away unnoticed.
The private gallery was nestled between skyscrapers, hidden behind polished black glass and a gilded arch. A doorman in uniform checked his invitation before ushering him inside.
The air smelled faintly of oil paint, aged wood, and something sharper—like anticipation.
Ethan hesitated at the entrance. This wasn't just art; it was a trap. He knew it, yet he walked in anyway.
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The gallery was dimly lit, spotlights illuminating large canvases lining the walls. Ethan's breath caught. They weren't landscapes or portraits. They were stories.
The first painting showed a young Omega—delicate, wide-eyed—tethered by chains that glinted silver against his pale skin. His body was painted in muted blues, giving the sense of both fragility and despair.
The second depicted an Alpha towering over several Omegas, contracts scattered like broken wings beneath their feet.
The third… Ethan froze.
The third canvas bore a striking resemblance to Adrian Zhou. His features weren't exact, but the commanding gaze, the sharp jawline, the cold smirk—it was him. Standing above a faceless crowd of Omegas, painted in shades of red that bled across the canvas like spilled blood.
Ethan's stomach twisted.
"Impressive, aren't they?"
Ethan spun around. Leon was there, dressed in black, his hair slicked neatly back. He moved with the confidence of someone who owned not only the room but the silence between breaths.
Ethan's voice was hoarse. "What is this?"
Leon stepped closer, his smile slow, his eyes gleaming. "Truth in color. The art of those who lived through it. Adrian's Omegas—those he calls rehabilitated—this is how they remember him."
Ethan's pulse spiked. "You're lying. He showed me the center. I saw them with my own eyes—"
Leon tilted his head. "And you believed the performance?" His chuckle was low and dangerous. "Adrian is many things, Ethan. Merciful isn't one of them. Do you know how many centers he owns? How many projects he buries under charitable names?"
He gestured toward another painting. This one was small but powerful—an Omega crouched in a dark room, a red brand glowing faintly at the back of his neck. Ethan's throat constricted.
Leon leaned closer, his voice soft, coaxing. "He will never tell you this. Because once you know, you'll never look at him the same way again. But I—" His hand lifted, almost brushing Ethan's wrist. "—I will never hide the truth from you."
Ethan flinched back, his chest tight. He wanted to scream that Leon was manipulating him, but the images clung to his mind like shadows that wouldn't fade.
Before he could reply, a sudden ripple moved through the crowd. Murmurs rose. Leon's smile sharpened as he glanced toward the entrance.
"Well, well. Speak of the devil."
Ethan's heart dropped.
Adrian Zhou had arrived.
He strode into the gallery like a storm, his presence slicing through the murmurs and silencing them instantly. His dark eyes locked on Ethan, unreadable, but his jaw was tight enough to crack stone.
"Ethan," Adrian said, his voice low, carrying both danger and something raw beneath it. "We're leaving."
Ethan's breath caught between Leon's sly smirk and Adrian's cold fury.
For the first time, he realized that no matter what choice he made, someone would get burned.