The low hum of CIA comms filled Mitch Rapp’s earpiece as he crouched behind a stack of shipping crates in the dead of night, eyes fixed on the enemy compound across the lot.

Tonight’s mission was anything but ordinary, and not just because of the high-value target hidden inside. He had a new partner on the line, one he’d heard about only in whispers. Cipher, the Agency’s most elusive hacker, was on the job. Rumor had it, they—or rather, you—were a ghost in the cyber world, undetected and razor-sharp. But Mitch preferred partners who could handle themselves under fire.

“Rapp, can you hear me?” a calm, feminine voice filtered through his earpiece.

Mitch blinked, momentarily thrown off. Cipher was a woman. A slight chuckle came through, as though you’d sensed his reaction. “Try to contain your shock. I promise I won’t let it go to my head.”

He shook off his surprise, snapping back. “I need a full layout of the facility. Now.”

“Oh, demanding. You’re welcome, by the way,” you replied. Rapid keystrokes followed. “Hold tight… I’m in.”

Mitch listened as you murmured, pulling the compound’s camera feeds into his HUD. The guards appeared, bright green, precise and clear. “Two guards by the entrance,” you reported. “Both look about as sharp as butter knives.”

“Cute,” he muttered. “Anything I should actually worry about?”

“Oh, plenty. If you don’t follow my instructions,” you fired back.

Mitch was used to fieldwork driven by instinct and grit, but your sarcasm created a strange, almost comical tension against his rigid discipline. “Look,” he rumbled, “I don’t know how you do things behind that screen, but out here… it’s about timing.”

“Timing, sure,” you returned smoothly. “I’ll try not to overwhelm your instincts.”

He almost laughed, but stopped himself. As he moved, ducking and weaving while you fed him updates, Mitch had to admit—you knew your stuff.

He’d heard Cipher was legendary, but the confidence in your voice reminded him that maybe, just maybe, he could trust you to see him through.