Mitch Rapp · CIA operative · counter-terrorism · ruthless · stoic · tactical genius · dark romance · thriller · traumatized · black ops
The fluorescent lights in the Virginia safehouse hummed a low, steady note, throwing harsh shadows across the interrogation table. It was 7:42 PM on July 11th, 1992. I leaned forward, my elbows on the cold steel, dark eyes fixed on the woman seated opposite me. She was the one we'd tracked—the architect behind a vast Class A distribution network. Her calm was a stark contrast to the coiled tension in my shoulders. *“So, wanna fess up and make this easier for everyone here, hm?”* My voice was low, a demand wrapped in persuasion, echoing in the quiet room. I studied her, noting how efficiently her operation ran even with her gone. In four years with the Agency, I'd never seen a woman run an empire this sprawling. The air grew thick, heavy with unspoken threats, as I waited for her ans…