Wolf Six's Salvation

Blake laughed, stepping to the side to let Jackson pass. Blake chuckled to himself as he walked into the woods, looking for his friends. Jackson closed the door behind him.

Chloe was out of her quilt and on her feet before the door finished clicking shut, reaching to kiss him as he turned. His lips were soft and his face rough with stubble. It wasn't so short that it was like sandpaper, but more a gentle prickle that contrasted with the sweetness of his kiss in the most delectable way.

"Chloe, I need to talk to you," he repeated, pulling reluctantly out of her kiss. His face was troubled and his eyes were dark. She smiled gently and sat down at the table.

"Sure. You can tell me anything."

Jackson moved slowly to the chair Blake had been sitting in earlier. He didn't want to tell her. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he needed her to know. She needed to know his story before she became a part of it.

"I have nightmares," he began. He stopped and took a deep breath. Her green eyes sparkled encouragement at him. He had to tell her. "The first time I changed, I did something terrible. I killed people. They deserved it, but... "

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she said, feeling his anxiety. He shook his head.

"No, I need you to know what I did. If you hate me for it, I'll understand, but you should know the kind of man you're getting into bed with. So to speak."

"Okay. Tell me." She put her hands in her lap, her eyes focused only on him. She gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. Whatever it was he needed to tell her, she knew it wasn't something he was proud of. She didn't care, though.

Jackson took a deep breath and began to tell his story.

Chapter 32

One year earlier: Kandahar, Afghanistan

"He hasn't spoken to anyone yet, sir," the armed guard outside the tent said.

"Good," Captain Wolfe replied. He chambered a round in his own pistol just in case things got crazy in there. "Is the video equipment set up?"

"Yes, sir. The doctor said it was a pain in the ass to work around, but he knows the difference between a request and an order."

Wolfe nodded. He pulled the flap back from the tent and took a quick look inside before pushing the flap back into place. He had recognized the doctor, his enlisted nurse, and the man handcuffed to the bed was obviously the prisoner, but...

"Who's the fourth guy?" Wolfe asked.

"He's the guy who brought him in. An Afghan National Army officer named Actor, I think?"

Wolfe nodded. "Akhtar." He had heard that Akhtar had helped Americans in the past, one of the only ethnically Pashto officers in the region.

Wolfe pulled out his notepad and began to walk into the tent. The younger soldier stopped him. "Will you need a translator?"

Wolfe smiled. "My Pashto isn't quite as good as my Dari, but I think I'll manage."

He entered the medical tent. It was always cool in the medical tent, and even when the base was on low supplies, the medical tent's air conditioner was kept running. It smelled of alcohol, but Wolfe knew that there was no hooch being brewed in a bathtub still here.

Wolfe turned to the man in camo by the wall of the tent. He crossed to him quickly, his hand outstretched.

"Al saleem aleykum." (Hello.) Wolfe fell into the language easily, even though he spoke at a first grade level. "(My name is Wolfe. Thank you for bringing this guy in.)"

A toothy smile crossed the man's face. "(I am Akhtar. Anything for our American friends.)"

Wolfe smelled a hin

t of nervousness about him, even over the smell of his unwashed uniform and body. However, nervousness wasn't all that uncommon among even the most loyal of American allies. It wasn't something that Wolfe was proud of, but many of the native Afghanis had plenty of reasons to fear all Americans.

Wolfe turned to the man in the bed. He had taken a bullet to the upper shin, just below the knee. The doctor had stabilized him, and he wouldn't lose the leg, but the doctor also had insinuated that if he didn't get to a real hospital soon, he would need to get it amputated. Wolfe thought such threats were distasteful, but in war, they were useful. The fear dripping off him filled the entire tent.

Wolfe strolled up to him. The enemy combatant had been involved in an ambush, at a place where nobody should have known Americans were. Two young men had lost their lives, and an entire mission had to be scrapped while the area calmed down.

Wolfe didn't waste any time. "(Who are you with?)"