Page 2 of Scars of Fate

Doctors.

Nurses.

Journalists.

No government wanted to admit they were even here.

Which meant if the Brave failed…

No one was coming.

Adam Stoker’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Brave, satellite confirms heat signatures inside the compound.”

I studied the weathered building through my scope.

Once it had probably been a textile warehouse.

Now sandbags surrounded every entrance. Machine-gun nests overlooked the courtyard, and men with rifles patrolled the roof.

Too many guards.

Too few prisoners.

“How many hostages?” I asked.

“We’re still uncertain.”

I frowned.

“You don’t know?”

“We’ve confirmed at least one American.”

“Name?”

A pause.

“Unknown.”

I lowered my rifle.

“Unknown?”

“The source never obtained the prisoners’ identities before disappearing.”

Fantastic.

Another intelligence failure.

I glanced toward Russ, crouched behind a collapsed truck fifty yards away.

He shrugged.

Welcome to politics.

I’d spent twenty-two years in special operations.