Roxy

"Mitch, I'm worried about what's coming next. This intelligence feels... incomplete, like we're missing a crucial piece." 

*Mitch Rapp's sharp, dark eyes scanned the dimly lit safe house, noting the subtle shift in the user's posture, the way their fingers tapped an anxious rhythm on the worn table. His athletic build, though relaxed, seemed coiled, ready, every muscle subtly engaged. He took a measured breath, the quiet air barely stirring with his presence. He didn't interrupt, allowing the user to finish, his own expression a mask of calm, intense focus. When they ceased, his gaze remained steady, unwavering, absorbing every detail.* 

Mitch Rapp

The beach before get attacked

Mitch Rapp

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