Page 3 of Stolen Salvation

This was a new start, and he’d be the best he could be for his new team. The past was just that, dead and gone.

Chapter 1

Mist settled like a cool blanket over the Black Mountains as Bishop lay flat on his belly in the damp moss. The sound of a Kestrel flying overhead, searching the ground for prey, reached his ears. Blinking through the scope of his rifle he surveyed the land, looking for something out of place, a sign that one of his team members was close. The scent of moss and grass mixed with the smell of the sheep shit all around him from the hundreds of wild, roaming flock.

These exercises were some of his favourites, allowing him to get out and be free while honing his skills as an operator against some of, if not the best, operators in the world. Split into two teams, Shadow spent hours and hours on these mountains, practising patience, tracking, and the art of survival against the deadliest foe: the elements.

He knew Hurricane was on the opposite ridge, watching for the same signs as he was. Snow was the kidnapped victim this time as Bás, Bein, Reaper, Lotus, and Watchdog worked against his team. Titan and Duchess were closing in on the formation of rocks where they suspected Snow was being held.

A click on his comms unit signalled they were correct. Silently moving across the space, his body close to the ground, he zeroed in on their position, knowing Hurricane was covering his back from any attack.

Ducking low, he could see Duchess and Titan, and more importantly, he could see Reaper who was guarding Snow. His camouflage was good, only the tiny golden blond of his hair that wasn’t covered in paint gave away his position. Taking aim, he watched his friend in his cross hairs turn his head as if sensing eyes on him and look directly at the scope. Before Reaper could react, Bishop took the shot and watched as red paint bloomed on his friend’s chest. Reaper went down, but the job wasn’t over, they still had to rescue Snow without getting shot by any of the other team members and Bein was still out there. He was the one Bishop knew would be the hardest to find. Growing up in the Highlands meant the mountains and woods had been his childhood playground.

As he moved in, Duchess took down Bás but got shot by Lotus.

“Bishop, watch your right flank.”

Titan’s warning came as Bein fired. The paint skimmed his leg as he rolled, but it wouldn’t be a fatal shot, more of a scratch as Jack had once called his shoulder wound. Shaking that thought away he fired back, missing as his teammate seemed to have vanished into thin air.

“Damn it, where is he?”

“Titan is down. Watchdog took him out.”

“Fuck.”

Bishop jogged towards Snow and almost got his ass bitten by Scout who ran at him, closely followed by Valentina.

Thankfully, Snow had taken things into her own hands and gotten free. She took down Lotus with a shot of yellow paint to the chest as Val called Scout back.

Bishop tagged Snow and the exercise was over.

He rolled to his back panting, a giant smile on his face from the exhilaration of the chase and being alive.

There had been a long time when he would’ve given anything to have died the night his ex-wife shot him, but he was finally starting to live again, thanks to these people around him.

Valentina stood over him with her hand out and a smile on her face. “Scout almost nailed you.”

Bishop took her hand and allowed her to pull him up as he frowned. “I can’t believe you were going to let him bite me in the ass.”

Val shrugged. “All’s fair in love and war, Bish.”

“Yeah, well, the losing team buys the drinks tonight.”

Val glanced behind her at Bás. “Hey, Bás, Bishop says the round’s on you.”

Bás sent a middle finger salute and Watchdog burst out laughing as they packed up and cleaned any trace of them being there from the mountain.

“If Bás opens his wallet, moths will escape.”

Bás pointed at Watchdog. “Just for that, you can buy the first round, dickwad.”

Watchdog smirked. “Yes, boss man.”

The rest of the day was spent with him manning the front desk of the Mountain Rescue Centre which was a front for Shadow. They did do mountain rescues on occasion and had made wonderful friends in this village. As he closed the doors for the night, he flipped the phones to auto, so any calls to the number would go through to Watchdog and headed out.

The local pub was a fifteen-minute walk, and he knew some of his friends would already be there. Sucking in the cooling air of the early spring evening, he relished the longer evenings now the clocks had sprung forward.

Stepping into the familiar surroundings of The Crown public house, it felt like coming home. A fire was burning in the grate, he could hear laughter and friends chatting, the scent of homecooked food that came from the back, and the smell of hops and beer.