𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 - Mitch Rapp

Thirteen- Sleep tight.

The night brought cooler air with it as the time grew closer to eleven.

Mitch gave it his all to count the time after the suited man left him on his own. Five minutes went by, then ten, then fifteen- until finally, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. The assassin gritted his teeth with anticipation, adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream at the thought of wrapping his hands around the scum-bag's neck until he couldn't breathe anymore.

Mitch glanced at the doorless threshold, his eyes fixating on the same man as he re-entered the damp room. However, the man seemed to be holding an object in his left hand- but the assassin's pupils dilated when another figure followed behind, seemingly carrying a gun, alongside a high tech laptop in his other hand.

"Set the webcam a few feet away on the table over there. But make sure it's directly facing him", the suited man ordered sternly.

Mitch remained quiet, but kept his walnut irises on the pair as they continued to converse. The other man appeared to be one of his henchmen, but he resembled that of a Turkish native, which made sense since the gang he was spying on was Turkish. It was clear the two men were working together, and perhaps joined forces soon after the sex trafficking ring leader entered the country. In conclusion,  the French man about to auction off Mitch on the dark web must know the location of Ava, which would give him a head start on finding her.

"He's asking for your ID, Sir", the unfamiliar male spoke as he gestured at the laptop screen.

Mitch kept his eyes peeled on the suited man as he strutted over in a state of irritation, biding his time to get the jump on him. He tried to get a better glimpse of the computer screen, but all he could make out was a little chatroom on the far corner of the screen, with a   live video of Mitch sitting on the chair. If it wasn't for the high adrenaline, Mitch knew he would be feeling unnerved, and in fear for his life.

"Are you fucking blind, Adrian? How many times have we held an auction with my face on the fucking camera", the suited man furiously replied.

"You know the rules, Henri. Type in your ID number and we will commence the auction. Some of us have other business to attend to", a Strikingly American voice responded.

Mitch had some knowledge of how evil and corrupt the elite of Americans could be- but he never thought he would actually come across one himself. He was used to dealing with foreign criminals, or at least lower crime civilians of his own country- so, it was fair to say he was flabbergasted by the American voice in control of the human trafficking auction.

"That's the last time I type in the code, now get to the auction for Christ sake", Henri scowled.

"Look it, Henri, I'm doing you a favour here. I took a break from this months ago after I nearly got tracked down by the FBI", the man countered. "It's getting more difficult to find clients willing enough to risk exposure for their purchases, so take it down a notch, yeah?".

Mitch studied Henri as he clenched his first into a ball, in attempts to control his anger. After a moment, he moved to the side of the room, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for the auction to begin.

Sweat was beginning to dampen Mitch's forehead whilst watching the chatroom fill with comments. It was too far to read what it said, but he had an inkling it wasn't pleasant. The henchman backed away from the laptop and made his stance by the doorway, keeping guard for any unwanted attention. Mitch began contemplating ways to break out of the room, but with his hands currently tied together at the back of the chair, the idea seemed impossible.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, to the last auction of the season", Adrian spoke courteously. "Tonight you will be placing your bids on a highly skilled government agent, who,until recently, worked exclusively for the CIA".

Mitch felt his heart pick up speed, but kept the thought of seeing Ava alive inside his mind. It was the only thing that worked. The only thing that made him calm. Hearing her soft-spoken voice scold him for something ridiculous, or watch her struggle to keep a straight face as Stan yelled at her for slacking in her training. He would give anything to see her again. Do anything, to hold her in his embrace one more time. No matter what it took. Or who he had to kill. He would find her, and mercilessly kill the person responsible for her capture.

–––––––––

Ava felt her world turning upside at the thought of not making it to Mitch in time.

She knew all too well how criminals like them acted, and how they lacked basic human emotions or remorse. They surely wouldn't take their time in disposing of Mitch Rapp, knowing full well that having him alive would risk the exposure of their crimes. It was critical that she escape from her current location, but Ava was smart. It would take time. It would take one hell of a risk, too. But Ava didn't care. Mitch's life was far more valuable than hers, she thought.

Ethan and the gang leader continued to bicker, which often made her invisible to the two men. Ava anxiously kept waiting for the right moment to take action. Analysing every outcome, every scenario. If the pair of misogynistic criminals kept arguing like this, it would allow her to go unnoticed for a few short moments- giving her the vital opportunity to grab a gun from one of their side belts.

Just as Ava pondered more ideas, Ethan's voice grew louder, his presence getting closer to her form. He had just made himself a cup of coffee, still boldly arguing with his boss over the payment he was owed for his input on misguiding the CIA. Ava observed his stance as he rambled on, noticing how close his gun was to her reach. Marcos was stirring a spoon in his own cup, seemingly distracted by Ethan's harsh words. He turned his back to retrieve a jar of sugar, encouraging Ava to pull a fast one on Ethan while there was such little time to do so.

Ethan mumbled something under his breath, then proceeded to take a sip of his coffee. Not wanting to let this potential only moment of survival go, Ava swiftly lunged forward and grabbed hold of his gun that was barely strapped to his belt. It all happened so fast, but Ava was successful in her efforts, and waisted no time to aim the gun at him.

"Woah, easy there tiger", Ethan responded, his hands held up mid-air.

"Shut the fuck up. Go over there", Ava countered, gesturing the gun towards Marcos.

Ava felt a grin growing as Marcos spun around and dropped his mug, the shattering sound of the ceramic cup echoing in the room.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Ethan? I'll fucking kill you for this, mark my words", he gritted whilst glaring at him, duplicating the raised hands.

"Quiet. Keep those hands raised, because I sure as hell won't hesitate pulling this trigger", Ava retorted. "Give me your gun, now".

Marcos furrowed his thick eyebrows. He couldn't believe a woman was ordering him around. "Fuck you. Slut".

The rage that coursed through Ava was overpowering. The professional side of her thought it would be best if she let the CIA handle him, and take him into custody. On the other hand, the urge to put a bullet in his head was  too much- and Ava did something she knew she wouldn't regret. Her finger pressed down on the trigger of the gun, releasing the power held inside. The loud sound of the shot almost startled her, but once she saw the scum fall to the floor, her fear turned to elation.

In a matter of seconds, the once powerful gang leader was dead. Blood being the only reminder that right now was in fact real, and that Mitch was now her main priority.