On the agape between the snow and the sea

Stings of cold air shrill through the sky. Heavy waves clash in the distance beneath a sullen canopy of pillowy clouds, shielding the beauty of the pearly moon.

Seared beach grass falters in the wind. The seashore is coated in ivory snow, a moist, agape strip of sand between the fringes of frost and sea.

The haunting scene unfolds: pure white snow soaked in scarlet blood, carving a crimson river toward the darkened sea.

Eight bodies lie layered and lifeless, marred men strewn like horrors of a battleground.

One man remains—bloated face pressed to the snowy shore, legs thrashing violently. Feeble hands claw for breath, fighting to wrest free from the foot crushing his throat. A polished black leather boot grinds into his neck—harder... and harder still.

The man above him doesn't flinch. He drives the heel deeper into bone.

The victim gags, the light dimming from bloodshot eyes.

A gun dangles loosely in the attacker's grip, while his other hand pinches a cigarette between long, careless fingers. His hair, disheaveled sways with the breeze, eyes grim and shadowed.

He lifts his foot slightly and inhales deeply, smoke curling into the dimly air, his hollowed cheek sinking with the burn.

Smoke unfurls slowly from his mouth, merging with the freezing air.

He looks down at the man writhing beneath him.

A smirk twitches across his lips.

The middle-aged man wears the raw fear of death in his marble-like eyes—an expression that sparks something close to amusement in his own dark ones.

This is how the mission ends. With blood. With justice.

This man—the final link in a long, vile chain of corruption. The master of depravity, trafficking women and children beneath a polished name.

Now he will die.

For months, Rhett—Agent Czar—masqueraded as one of them. He watched, endured, let his soul corrode as he witnessed unspeakable acts.

He wanted to linger in the deaths of his own victims—slow, tormenting.

A futile attempt to drain the darkness within himself.

But now he knows: killing them swiftly saves time to hunt more.

He raises the gun, his stare cold, resolute.

One shot.

Then another.

And more—clinks of brass, jerks of flesh.

The man spasms, then stills. His head bursts open, brain matter splitting, warm blood leaking into the white snow.

Rhett frowns, withdraws his boot, and kicks the corpse over—face down.

He tosses the cigarette onto the wet sand and grinds it under his sole.

Then he watches the far waves swirl in, stealing the remains of the smoke away.

Behind him, footsteps crunch across the snow.

A tall figure emerges from the winter reeds. Agent Knight.

His nose wrinkles at the stench of blood and rot.

"You've made a bloody mess here, Agent Czar," he remarks, eyes narrowing at Rhett's silhouette.

Rhett doesn't respond. Knight's team arrives, fanning out around the corpses.

Knight approaches, gaze tightening when he sees who lies at Rhett's feet. "You killed him without my permission?"

"I'm the head of this operation. You're under my command, Czar!"

Rhett offers nothing. Just walks toward his bike.

Knight scoffs as Rhett mounts and secures his helmet.

"Fucking ridiculous!"

"Answer me, damn it!"

Rhett finally looks at him. Expression unchanging.

"I'm not led."

Knight clenches his fists, grinding his teeth as Rhett speeds off into the snow-swept night.

The mission is over. Knight had the title—but never the reins.

Czar cleaned the circle of predators on his own terms.

Knight was only ever a spectator in the hunt.

"Fucking asshole."

---

Christmas is only days away.

The city glows in dazzling lights, green garlands, golden wreaths.

Rhett walks through the crowd—unseeing, drifting.

The streets pulse with warmth, but he carries none of it.

His gaze remains fixed on the ground. There is no home to return to. No weight but weariness in his bones.

It would have been his third Christmas with her.

She had entertwined their fingers once.

She held his hand—and so easily caressed him away from the filth of his past.

She was his home. His... everything.

Now she's gone.

And she has left nothing but a breathing corpse.

His steps halt.

A flicker of heat stirs in his deadened eyes.

There—standing across the street.

A woman.

Hair long and black, swaying like waves down her waist. A white dress flowing at her ankles. Her curls and the hem of her dress dance with the breeze.

She's still.

And her warm cocoa eyes are on him.

She smiles—that beautiful, radiant smile.

And just like everytime—the world blurs, the crowd fades, the cold, the years.

"Angel..." Rhett breathes.

Her arms stretch toward him, beckoning.

His eyes moisten.

His heart races, thrashing to escape its cage. He pushes through the people.

She's close—so close.

He stumbles into the street, eyes on the ground dusted in frost. Strangers curse him.

When he, frightened looks up, she's still there—glowing. She blinks softly, assuring him. She will wait for him.

He will eventually hold her.

Nothing can separate them.

They are forever one.

But no matter how fast he walks, the distance won't close.

Panic grows. He starts to run.

But the moment collapses.

A man walks through her.

She vanishes.

A wisp of white smoke floats in the mist.

Rhett reels, almost falls to his knees.

Then—there. He sees her again. Entering a flower shop across the street.

He bolts after her, lungs burning, stomach turning. His eyes don't leave her.

He reaches her. Grabs her wrist.

"Angel—"

She turns. Frowns.

Her hand jerks away, disgusted.

His soul shatters.

She's not her.

Not Neva.

Nothing like her. Nothing of her warmth.

He crumbles.

His soul burns and dies once more.

A man steps between them. "The fuck, man?" he barks, shielding the woman.

Rhett stares through him—expression hollow.

Then turns, aimless.

The man watches him go, confused, protective arm still around the woman.

Neva was never there.

She was never found.

Two shadows watch from across the street.

"He's finally lost it," Ace mutters, leaning toward Sky.

Sky doesn't reply.

Her dimlit, sharp blue eyes symphatizes with him.

She starts heading toward the bar Rhett disappears into.

Ace huffs, then follows.