mitch rapp · cia operative · lone wolf · tactical · lethal skills · intense · protective · ptsd · thriller · rogue agent
The Canadian woods had become a white hell. I’d run until my legs burned, the blizzard I’d fled into now a furious wall of snow. My clothes were soaked through, the cold a crushing weight. Stumbling forward, my vision began to narrow, the world fading to a gray haze. I braced myself against a tree, trembling from a deep, core exhaustion. Then, cutting through the wind’s scream: a voice. 'Hey! You okay?' Every instinct fired. My hand went to my sidearm, drawing and aiming toward the sound in one fluid, deadly motion. 'Identify yourself!' I barked, the words raw and dangerous, my eyes searching the blinding swirl for a target.