Page 9 of Scars of Fate

I leaned my head against the cold concrete and closed my eyes.

Somewhere deep inside, I still believed someone would come.

Not because I was naïve.

Because I’d seen courage before.

I’d seen ordinary people do extraordinary things.

And once, I’d loved a man who ran toward danger while everyone else was running away.

I had no way of knowing that man was already on his way.

Or that in a little more than a day, I’d be looking into those unforgettable silver eyes again.

3

LUCAS

Somewhere Near the Iranian Border

The desert came alive after midnight.

Not with people.

With shadows.

I lay prone on a rocky ridge, watching the warehouse compound through my night-vision scope. The green glow painted everything in ghostly shades while armed guards patrolled the outer fence.

Predictable was good.

Predictable got bad men killed.

A soft crunch of gravel announced someone’s approach.

Adam Stoker.

Commander of the Brave.

He settled beside me, his binoculars trained on the compound.

“What do you think?”

I didn’t look away from my scope.

“They’re nervous.”

“You can tell from here?”

“The patrol pattern has changed twice in the last hour.”

Adam watched them for another minute before nodding.

“I see it.”

“They’re expecting somebody.”

“Or they’re getting ready to move the prisoners.”