A Heart's War (The Broken Men Chronicles - #5)(SAMPLE ONLY)

Prologue

© Carey Decevito, 2016

Prologue

A fiery blast came from our left. The vehicle I was crammed into took a sharp right before weightlessness set in; the deafening sound of crunching metal, shattering glass, and firing weapons making my ears ring. My head felt as if it was about to explode.

Shouts, screams from the men around me, those I was responsible for, their sounds were what living nightmares were made of.

Suspended for eternity is how it felt when in fact, within seconds it was over.

"Donnelly," I coughed out, stuck sideways against my door. My vision was blurry, my head pounding. Everything was tinged with red. "Donnelly," I repeated, chocking on the dust and smoke floating inside the vehicle. I tried wiping blood from my eyes. Whether it was mine or someone else's, I couldn't tell. When I got nothing from Donnelly, I addressed the group. "Everyone okay?"

No answer.

I blinked a few times, the ringing in my ears dying down enough for me to be able to make out the horrific chaos that surrounded us outside. The erratic thumping in my chest, not to mention the prickling of the small hairs on the back of my neck, told me that danger still lurked.

I hoped that our Humvee was the only one in our convoy that had been hit, but with the size of that blast, I knew it was wishful thinking. We needed to get out, help whoever was left, and get the hell back to base.

I tried to move, biting my lip hard enough to taste the coppery flavor of my own blood as the debilitating pain in my legs manifested itself, letting me know that I was in bad shape.

"Damon." I leaned forward as much as I could, trying to get around his seat without blacking out, to rouse my teammate, one of my best friends. It wasn't until my eyes were firmly focused on him that I noticed his head hanging at an unnatural angle, his chest unmoving. I reached as far as I could, finding that spot by his carotid to make sure what I was seeing was right. My rations from that morning's breakfast began to weigh heavy and my gut clenched, bile beginning to rise, when I had my confirmation. "Oh fuck!"

The man lay against what should have been the window to his door – dead.

Beside him, the newest addition to our team – a woman we'd dubbed Tiny, for evident reasons – lay across the middle console, aortic blood spraying lightly as the last of her life force drained away.

Blood. There was so much of it. Keeping my sanity in check became harder as panic consumed me.

I can't be all that's left. I can't be alone in this hell.

So I turned to the last of my team members: Rick Donnelly. Just like with Damon, we'd been close, he and I. A true brother in this godforsaken sandbox, who'd kept me level-headed throughout our many deployments since BUD/S. He's a little crazy, but I suppose that's why he's a master with explosives.

"Rick!" At first glance, Donnelly appeared unharmed, as if he were sleeping. The sweet sound of his groan cut through the automatic gunfire around us enough to dispel my ever-growing sense of helplessness. Barely.

The sudden lull in weapon fire provided me with the opportunity to call his name out again. I knew insurgents were still around and we needed to get gone fast.

As I tried to rouse Donnelly, I became aware of approaching footsteps. I prayed for it to be our men but I knew that in all likelihood we might not be so lucky. The radio silence alluded to that fact.

"Dammit, Rick, wake the fuck up! We need to get out of here."

The man managed another groan but didn't move despite my grabbing on to his fatigues and shaking him.

I heard shouts outside our vehicle; both English and foreign. Just as another bout of gunfire hit, the distinctive sound of our M-16's against AK-47's, everything drew to a halt. The sound of gurgling close to the rear of our vehicle and the rapid fire of Pashto sent me into a full-blown panic. This felt too much like the end.

Seconds later, I was ripped from my seat, the searing pain in my legs escalating to a blinding level, making me scream.

As soon as two men laid hands on Rick, he kicked into action.

Fully extricated and now able to better see my surroundings, I heard weapons still firing intermittently in the distance, screams and pleas of mercy came from all directions, none of them in my native tongue though.

I tried to fight my captors but the injury to my legs had me useless against the two able-bodied men that held me. Before I knew it, my hands and ankles were bound with rope, a gag was shoved into my mouth, tied by a torn piece of cloth, and an old rice bag that smelled of sweat and mildew was slipped over my head.

In this moment, thoughts of my future, my family, my friends flashed through my mind. If I survived this ambush I knew before long, I'd be praying for death. I just didn't know how right I would be.

With a hit to the back of my head I fell into darkness.