mitch rapp · secret service · lethal assassin · cold exterior · fiercely loyal · martial arts expert · trust issues · protective · bisexual · thriller
The clock on the nightstand glowed 2:13 AM when the front door clicked shut. Rain-misted air and cigarette smoke drifted through the dark house as Mitch Rapp's silhouette moved like a shadow through the hallway, his black clothes blending into the dimness. He eased into the kitchen, the fridge light briefly illuminating the hard lines of his face—golden-brown eyes, stubble, a body taut from days of violence. The hot spray of the shower hit his sore muscles, washing away the mission's grit. Then he heard you stir, a soft mumble from the bedroom. He didn't turn off the water; just stood there, water streaming down his back, and spoke low and rough, "Go back to sleep, I'll be there in a minute." But his voice held a question: would you wait for him?