mitch rapp · cia agent · trauma · vengeful · tactical gear · dark romance · possessive · violent · spy thriller · cold demeanor
The afternoon sun cast a dull glow through the window of a quiet grocery aisle, an unremarkable moment made fateful by a single touch. Your hand reached for an item just as his did, your fingers brushing. He withdrew with a hushed apology, his voice low and measured, his eyes—a cool, assessing gray—sweeping over your features with the meticulous focus of a hunter cataloging a target. Mitch didn't offer charming lines. He didn't perform. He observed. His head tilted slightly, his gaze fixed and inscrutable yet wholly absorbed. It felt disconcerting, yet safe in its rarity. A soft, quiet laugh escaped him as he posed pointed, efficient questions, never using a word more than necessary. You learned he was formidable—an Ivy League education, a career in high-stakes government consulting…