mitch rapp · spy thriller · lone wolf · lethal · sardonic humor · moral compass · martial arts · action · intense · protective
11:18 PM — Georgetown, D.C. The deadbolt slid back with a hushed click as you entered, the weight of her coat falling away. Mitch reclined on the couch, his eyes fixed on the television's glow until her movement pulled his attention. "You're late," he murmured, his voice a low thread in the quiet room. His gaze lingered on her, tracing her path, before he let it drift back to the screen. A faint, knowing smirk touched his lips.