It was seven months ago that a strategy was designed.
Initially, Rhett had changed his identity.
He needed to blend in with the crime world.
A job, he was already introduced to. A game of pretence he excelled in.
He joined as a new gang member under a notorious druglord. He worked under him as he operated his purpose.
It was almost smooth under the loose scrutiny, yet as each day got shorter, it took a toll on him, because he couldn't seize a clue about her.
But, the link fastening the activities of the underworld could never really be disconnected.
Gradually, through the network sojourning: from the smallest of criminal organization, the mafias, the drug cartels, jotting down through, he did finally pattern Raka's lair of operations.
Less was known of Raka.
Almost nothing in the departing years.
But the wolves always left trails behind.
All animals do. Raka did too.
The Lavalliere cartel leader was involved in druck trafficking, assassinations, bombings, and alongside he legally led multiple number of casinos and owned gun industries. He had made a name for himself. Him and his trusted partners: Jacob Lewis and Lukas Ito.
Then arrived a news of a baccarat game set up by Raka. Number of chosen people were offered invitations; or rather, an announcement to only specific people.
The druglord, who Rhett worked for had been included. Unfortunately, his boss wasn't very keen on being interested.
But Rhett's eye was already set on Nicholas Green.
A bussinessman driving an industry of steel.
For the past six months, Nicholas Green frequented casino River Reign.
One of Raka's casinos in Las Vegas, where the game was to take place.
It made Green the perfect bait to hook the big fish.
Nicholas Green like the gambler addict he was, the game of baccarat seemed like an incoming big break for him.
It was an annual thing for Raka to organise a high gambling once a year, and it had earned him mass profit from the antsy gamblers.
After the abduction of Nicholas, he had been well taken care of by Rhett.
Then Rhett stole his identity, and the big fish took the bait.
After the game of baccarat, it was then Rhett shared a handshake with Raka.
He walked away after; as he had adorned a GPS tracker on the sleeve of Raka's dinner–jacket. The miniature, transparent GPS tracker innovated to be especially planted on fabrics.
From then on, Raka was monitored.
Nicholas's identity, and his wealth came in handy for Rhett. He used the personal jet and hauled in the Bentley with him to Finland, the country where Raka landed.
From the airport, after the 70 mph drive of fifteen minutes, twenty miles of road and acres of land was a private property owned by Raka.
There was not a single motorcar to be seen other than his. Then the way opened up to a pavement cut between the woods.
Shortly, revealed a massive gate with four armed guards on duty.
Rhett was stopped by the guards due to the foreign number plate of the Bentley.
But when he rolled down the tinted windows, the guards only revered him and apologized.
Rhett with ease was allowed to drive through when a second gate revealed with the similar count of armed guards.
They did, too, opened up the gates and gave way. For it was this face who had employed them. Or better, they thought he did.
Soon, surrounded by the ripened autumn woods, a big white old–money–house divulged in his sight. Another step closer.
He couldn't get his hopes high. For if he did, he'd be upset and risk a mess.
Even if she was beyond and oceans afar.
Even if it couldn't be today.
Soon.
And that day didn't feel so far away. For as he rolled down the window of the Bentley, now settled on the parking lot, that he could sense it in the air.
A tug in his chest, pulling in like the waves of the ocean, currents of gyre to a part of him.
To someone; who possessed the whole of him.
He saw a guard on his phone, leaned on a car and smoking. He called to him and the man was obliged to approach the Bentley.
Rhett instructed he get in the car. Confused the man could only obey.
Rhett shortly stepped out, changed into the guards uniform: a black suit–jacket with a black shirt.
He locked behind the car with a tinted window; with the corpse of the guard only in undergarments left inside.
Walking out the parking lot, a fellow guard grabbed his shoulder and eyed him suspiciously. He asked him: why he had a mask on?
Rhett lied. "I got the flu."
The big tanned man, just nodded, and told him. "Good that you have a mask on. Wouldn't want the kids exposed to flu." He patted his back, and left.
Rhett didn't really catch on the mention of kids.
Who's kids?
But he didn't dwell there for long.
---
The security system was hacked in. But he didn't waste time going through all the footages, when he wasn't even sure if she was here.
He had killed the guards as discretely as he could to not make it obvious.
He needed to make Raka vulnerable enough to force prison on him.
And if it didn't work out, he would just had to kill him.
But corpses didn't talk; he needed him alive for him to reveal where she was.
And when he did; he wouldn't make a mistake and risk Raka living anymore.
Rhett heard voices of children. He followed and it led to the garden in the backyard.
He stood casually by a shade of a big tree in a distant. There he saw Raka with two children.
They seemed around the same age.
One was a boy, and the other was a girl.
A large pink play–kitchen took up all of the anterior space by the fountain in the middle.
But when he heard the kids regarding Raka as their father; he was angered. His grip on the semi–automatic rifle tightened.
It was not fair.
Raka was laughing. Living.
Not fair after what he'd done to him; to her. He didn't deserve to be happy.
Overwhelmed with revenge, Rhett lifted the gun and aimed at him.
No. He lowered the gun. No matter how much he hated him. He cannot; for her.
Not yet.
"Mumma!" A voice called.
The girl waved at someone accross her.
And he followed her gaze, but the view was veiled under bushes of flowers and a tree, so he shifted to have a better access.
There, under the ripened, rustling leaves of oak tree; he saw a woman on a swing.
Waving back at the girl.
A gasp so faint.
Heart made to leap out the chest.
Time seemed to stop.
Just like that autumn evening; when their eyes first met.
Was it years ago?; or was it just days ago?
He couldn't move. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
All his senses; frozen.
And like everytime, every moment with her, everything faded away; and remained his sole erratic beating heart; and his Neva; his Angel; his beloved wife.
He stood there for a long, unknown span of time in trance.
He didn't even know if he was blinking, or breathing anymore. Afraid she might fade, like she did, everytime.
Was it another illusion? A beautiful dream, that he would be tragically woken up from in a moment.
No, he saw her there. In peace, reading like she always loved, resting on the cushioned swing, leaned on the backrest.
Her legs dangling, moving with the light sway of the swing.
She hadn't changed. She hadn't aged. Always beautiful.
And was in heaven.
Her long mermaid–like waving hair, smooth strands dancing softly with the wind, trapping sunrays from the chinks of the tree and glimmering.
Adorned in a long sleeved white couquette dress, a sweet–heart carved neckline embracing her bosom.
Like she always loved.
Then suddenly, the squeals of children broke him off the chasm.
And just as quickly, the gravity of earth collapsed on him.
Forced towards the center of the earth; burning him in realisation.
Mumma?
His pupils constricted. Legs weakening.
Then he panicked.
He felt light–headed when he turned to look at Neva.
He saw her relaxed.
Without a line of stress in her features.
His mouth shrivelled up. Immediately he regretted waiting for her face to distort in agony.
Hoping her to reveal any sign of trauma.
His mind became a white sheet of canvas.
A white buzz in his ears.
Waiting...
Waiting...
For a stroke of colour.
A conclusion.
A reason that soothed this pang, this agony in his chest.
And a pull... A tug.
Every wonders was quiet.
Everything was dreamlike.
The birds chirping.
The golden hour of evening.
A warm weather: the rustling of leaves, scent of sweet flowers.
A start of a slow step.
The butterflies and orange leaves swirling around him on the backs of the breeze; as she pulled him towards her with an invisible string.
His mask and gun was left behind.
Thrown, buried with the collecting dead leaves on the grass.
Achingly slow as he stepped towards her. And another. A connection, two souls joining one as their eyes fastened.
And she just stared at him with spiralling, elusive emotions.
His legs couldn't hold him anymore, and he fell on his knees before her.
Her warm palm caressed his cheek, and his hands covered her own.
Tears trickling down.
"Angel."
His heart aching in pleasure as she hummed back in response to his whisper.
But abruptly, almost frightened she flinched away her hand. As if his coldness burned her.
She stood up, frowning as she looked down at him.
"Who are you?"
And there, his heart dropped.
Brain connecting dots...
Numbness...
He didn't want to believe...
No, it couldn't be.
Was he in a dream concealed in a nightmare?
Or was it her?; she; who too was trapped in illusion?