PROLOGUE
A small island off Malta in the Mediterranean Sea
A single naked bulb buzzed overhead, its weak glow trembling across cellar walls slick with damp and rot.Shadows clung to the huddle of filthy, skeletal shapes pressed together as if the touch of another living human could fend off despair.The stench of fear, sweat, and excrement hung in the air like something alive.
A key scraped in the lock.
Chains rattled when mothers dragged children behind them.The captives drew inward as the door exploded open.
Elijah Steel filled the threshold.
Camo paint cut harsh lines across his face emphasizing the brutal planes.He wore dark tactical gear: combat trousers, scuffed boots, a fitted black shirt with the sleeves shoved to his elbows, every inch of him thick with muscle, dust, and dangerous intent.A suppressed carbine rode his shoulder; spare mags loaded his vest; the pistol strapped to his thigh and the knife across his chest completed the impression of a man carved for war.
He was not a reassuring sight.
Elijah had never tried to be.
Sable Alexandrovna stepped in beside him, equally armed, equally lethal.Their eyes swept the room with cold appraisal.Two predators assessing prey and threat with the same detached precision.
The first guard made barely a sound.Elijah struck fast, snapping the man’s neck with a single brutal twist.Beside him, Sable’s blade flashed, and the second guard hit the concrete, blood gushing.
Gunfire erupted.The prisoners shielded their faces as shards of concrete shot into the air.A machete swung toward them—too slow.Elijah hurled Sable out of its path and met the attacker head-on, ending the threat with merciless efficiency.
Blood and Thunder team members flooded in behind them, herding captives toward the exit.Amid the chaos, Elijah and Sable found themselves pressed close—shoulder to shoulder, breath mingling, adrenaline sharpening everything between them.Sable’s lips tilted the slightest fraction in wordless acceptance of a bond neither could kill.
Two shadows moving as one, they snatched keys from the dead guards’ belts.
“You’re free,” Sable told the prisoners, her voice low and controlled, as she worked the locks.
A small girl flung her arms around her neck.Sable froze for a heartbeat, then gently pried the child loose.“You’re safe now,” she murmured, her eyes scanning for threats.
“On your feet,” Elijah ordered a dazed youth.“We need help.Name?”
“Ivor.”
“Some of your people can’t walk.”
“I’ll carry them,” the boy answered fiercely as boots thundered down the stairwell above.
“If you do exactly as we say, you’ll make it out alive,” Sable told the captives, ushering them toward a trapdoor carved into the floor by one of the team’s specialists.
Leading them into the darkness, she paused to watch Elijah wrench the shattered door from its hinges and brace it across the entrance.
Dust sifted down like ash as they crowded the tunnel.Muffled gunfire cracked above, making the rescued shrink in terror until Elijah dropped through the opening, when there was a group sigh of relief.Slamming the trapdoor shut behind him, he roared, “Move!Don’t look back!”
It took the slavers less than sixty seconds to breach the barricade.The roof of the tunnel trembled with gunfire and shouted curses.The air filled with grime after each round of fire.This dimmed the torchlight to a flickering glow as Sable pushed the ragged band deeper into the passageway.
“I’ll cover you,” Elijah called out.“Keep going.”
She needed no encouragement.Survival was the only goal as fire and thunder filled the route.
Bursting into the night, she sucked greedily on clean air.The stench of hot metal had burned her lungs, and this welcome change was a reminder she was still alive.
That was something.
She turned back to caring for the prisoners with the confidence of knowing that somewhere behind them, guarding their backs, was Elijah.
He was their avenging angel.
