Page 1 of Scars of Fate

1

LUCAS

SOMEWHERE NEAR THE IRANIAN BORDER

The world smelled like smoke.

Not campfire smoke.

Cities burning.

I crouched behind the shattered wall of what had once been a school, my rifle resting against the broken concrete as explosions echoed beyond the hills.

Children’s drawings still clung to a cracked classroom wall.

Bright stick figures.

Blue skies.

Yellow suns.

The ceiling above them no longer existed.

War never cared who painted the pictures.

A helicopter rumbled overhead.

Not ours.

“Movement.”

Russ Duncan’s quiet voice came through my earpiece.

I shifted my scope toward the road winding through the ruined village.

Two military trucks rolled past, armed soldiers packed into their beds.

“They’re heading east,” Russ said.

“Let them.”

I didn’t take my eye off the scope.

“Our people aren’t with them.”

Silence answered.

Every man on the Brave trusted my instincts.

I trusted facts.

And the facts told me something was wrong.

The intelligence briefing had been rushed.

A humanitarian convoy had disappeared three days ago.

Aid workers.