Page 1 of Royal Salvation

Prologue

His heart racing, Justice Carson, aka Reaper, ducked his head inside the barren home of one of the elders of the village. For days, he and his men had been in search of the leader of the Islamist Extremist Group known as the Islamic Emirate. The leader, Abdul Omar, was meant to be hiding out in the village that was nestled in the Hindu Kush region close to the Salang Tunnel. The Salang Tunnel linked Northern Afghanistan and the Parwan Provence and was a crucial point of conflict in the war between the groups.

A muffled scream tore through the dirt walls of the deserted home and he raised his weapon. He and his men, of the Australian SAS’s Charlie Squadron, were leading this mission. As the detonation specialist and bomb expert, it was his job to make sure they didn’t find any of the IEDs that were scattered around the mountain like sprinkles on a kid’s birthday cake.

Moving through the dark space, the cool air of the coming night bit into his skin, even through the thick military-grade clothing he wore and the Bergen on his back heavy with supplies.

Seeing nothing, he moved through the village, nodding to his teammate Joker, who was across the sand path that separated the village down the centre. This was a six-man team, himself, Joker, Denny, Monk, Chess, and Playboy. The latter was a man he couldn’t stand and only tolerated for the sake of the team, and because of who his father was.

Playboy was just that, a man who thought he was a gift to women and thought that every female should fall at his feet. He was arrogant, cocky, and a fucking danger to others, but his commanding officer wouldn’t hear of it.

He was a good enough soldier, but not good enough for this team. He and everyone else knew it, but he was protected in a way he never should have been, and it would cost someone their life one day.

As Joker and Denny ducked into the home across the way, an eerie feeling of dread worked its way up Reaper’s spine. It was something he’d learned to listen to from a young age. As a boy, he and his younger brother Caleb had known that if you got that feeling it meant their father a—well-respected Officer in the Australian Military—was in one of his moods.

As the oldest, Reaper had always protected his brother, who couldn’t take the hits he could.

It had made him a man, or that at least that was the mantra his father spouted to justify the abuse he meted out to his oldest son. In some ways, that was true because Reaper could just about take any beating he was given and not flinch. It was how he’d got his name. His friends said he was so close to the grim reaper on a few occasions in his career that he was probably him wearing Justice Carson’s skin.

The sound came again, a muffled scream but louder than before, and he motioned for Monk to go around the other side, and they’d converge on whatever or whoever it might be. The formation of three two-man teams worked well for them, and he knew Playboy and Chess would’ve cleared the area already, but he couldn’t get the bad feeling out of his head.

As he slid his body along the wall of the hut, he angled his weapon so he wouldn’t be caught off guard. It was a vow he’d made the day he’d stood up to his father and told him if he ever touched either one of them again, he’d put him in the grave. Far from being angry, his father had seemed proud, the crazy fucker believing he’d made him a man.

Rounding the corner, he stopped for a second, not sure what he was seeing until the horrific scene in front of him became clear.

Playboy had his pants around his knees and had a woman, no, a girl of no more than sixteen, pressed against the cold wall of the hut raping her. Chess, who he’d believed to be a good man, was laughing as he made lewd jokes about her as she cried and struggled to get free.

Reaper struggled to understand what was happening. They were looking for a damn terror cell and two of his men were raping a young Afghan girl and laughing about it.

Filled with sudden rage, a red mist falling over everything, he launched himself at Playboy. The shock on his face would’ve almost been comical if the disgust Reaper felt about his crime hadn’t been so visceral.

His fist landed in the other man’s face, and he felt the bone crunch underneath his blow. He beat him until his arms gave way and someone pulled him free from the silent man whose screams had died down.

Reaper looked up and saw Joker and Monk detaining Chess. Turning, he saw Denny was the one who’d pulled him off Playboy, who was alive but badly beaten. As far as Reaper was concerned, he was lucky he hadn’t killed him but he believed in the justice system and would drag his ass home so he could face charges of rape.

Seeing the wide-eyed look of the girl cowering on the ground, he moved towards her. She shrunk back, terror in her eyes. Reaper held out his hand, only wanting to check she was okay but knowing how frightened she must be amongst these foreign men who’d invaded her peace and attacked her and each other. “It’s okay, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Reaper knew she had no idea what he was saying but he hoped his voice conveyed that he wasn’t a threat, when, of course, he was. All the soldiers there were a threat in some way, whether they wanted to be or not and no matter their intentions.

He tried asking if she was okay again and she nodded. He moved closer, knowing that Joker and Monk had his back. Those were two men he wasn’t wrong about. Her startling blue eyes and blonde hair beneath the robes she wore were surprising in this region but not unheard of.

He couldn’t help but stare but dragged his eyes away from the child back to Joker. “Find out if anyone in this village knows who she is.”

Backing away, he removed a blanket from his Bergen and offered it to her, which she took, as her body curled into itself. He could hardly look at her without feeling a blood-boiling rage for the piece of filth who was unconscious on the cool sand. He’d made more work for them by doing what he had. They’d likely have to carry Playboy out of there now. Although a big part of him wanted to leave the animal here to die from his injuries, he knew he wouldn’t do that.

When he looked back, the girl was gone. He and his men spent an hour looking for her, moving in and out of the properties, avoiding the glances of the women who kept their eyes averted. The men, although they weren’t warriors, looked ready to kill to defend the people from the soldiers who, up until that night, they’d been helping.

Gathering their gear, they headed out to the landing zone where they’d exfil and report back to base. The trek was long but uneventful, only made difficult by Playboy who was moaning now in pain.

“Shut the fuck up, you pervert, before I really give you something to cry about.”

“Come on, boss, it was just a bit of fun.”

Reaper’s cool gaze cut to Chess, who was watching him as if he was overreacting about a food order being wrong, not the attack on a young girl.

In the back of the helo, Reaper launched himself across the seat and grabbed Chess by the throat. “Bowling is fun, football is fun. Raping an innocent girl isn’t fun. It’s a crime, you mother fucker.”

Chess was turning blue, but Reaper didn’t care. He wanted the man to understand but with sudden clarity, he knew he never would. Any man who had to be told that what they’d done was wrong would never see the act for the vile, disgusting thing it was.