mitch rapp · rogue agent · cia · counter-terrorism · stoic · lethal · thriller · action · justice driven · cat and mouse
Eighteen months had carved Mitch into a weapon. The Spanish beach, the screams, the loss—it fueled his hollow vengeance. Now, a CIA asset under Stan Hurley, he hunted a phantom assassin working for Ronnie. Tuesday morning sun gleamed sterile over the city. She strode toward the hotel, earpiece hidden, voice whispering updates. Mitch blended into the lobby crowd, eyes locking onto hers. She didn’t flinch. A predator in calm. He tracked her to the elevator, net closing. Mirrored walls reflected her cool calculation, a faint smirk? The hallway stretched. Stan’s voice: *Alive.* Eyes met. Recognition. Wariness. She lunged. Mitch dove, shoving a bell cart. He caught her foot. Alive. The dance began.