Epilogue
The wedding
The Seraphim rode at anchor off a nameless cove on Gozo’s western edge.
In water so clear, the white sand beneath her keel glowed turquoise.
No flags flew, no brass band played, no guests who weren’t already crew or family forged in fire attended.
Just the ship, the sea, and two people who had given their all for every inch of this moment.
Sable stood barefoot on the aft deck, the salt wind whipping the thin silk of her dress against her legs.
The wedding gown she had chosen, a simple column design, was the color of twilight, the exact shade of the amethyst ring on her wedding finger.
It had no back, just a few strategic straps.
Elijah’s eyes darkened the first time he saw it.
He waited at the rail for the ceremony to begin, his black linen shirt open at the neck, cuffs turned back to reveal a hint of fresh ink on his arm: Sable’s initials, S.A.S.
, Sable Alexandrovna Steel. When she reached his side, they smiled into each other’s eyes as if accepting that miracles could happen.
The celebrant who married them, a grizzled ex-mercenary with a voice like gravel, kept it brief. “Do you, Elijah, take this woman, knowing full well she’s the most dangerous thing you’ll ever hold in your arms?”
Elijah’s answer was immediate. “Fuck yes.”
Laughter rippled through the small crowd.
“And you, Sable: Do you take this man, knowing he’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth if you ever try to leave him again?”
She met Elijah’s gaze steadily. “Try keeping me away from him.”
The celebrant grunted approval. “Rings?”
Elijah produced two plain platinum bands, slid Sable’s on first, then held out his hand. She took her time, tracing the new ink and old scars, before pushing Elijah’s wedding ring home.
“By the power vested in me by the sea, common sense, and the fact that nobody here is stupid enough to argue with me, I pronounce you husband and wife. Kiss her before she changes her mind.”
Elijah didn’t waste time. Dragging her close, he kissed her as if his life depended on it, and she kissed him back just as fiercely, her fingers fisting in his shirt. When they broke apart, their guests erupted in cheers and whistles.
Leaving the crowd to enjoy a fabulous wedding feast, Elijah escorted her to their stateroom filled with displays of fragrant wedding flowers. “Wife,” he murmured, tasting the word as if it were made of liquor and sin.
“Husband.” She was already breathless as he carried her onto the balcony. The crew had strict instructions not to disturb them on pain of extremely creative consequences.
Eventually, he carried her back to bed, and they rang for food and drink.
“Shouldn’t we rejoin our guests?” Sable asked, frowning.
“Do you know our guests? The Blood and Thunder team will keep everyone up all night celebrating. I doubt anyone will miss us.”
When dawn broke, Sable snuggled against Elijah, content and happy.
He pulled her against his chest, brushed his lips against her throat, and murmured, “Good morning, wife. Welcome to the rest of your life.”
“We have to get back in harness at some point,” she pointed out.
“On our honeymoon?”
“A couple of days’ break, then, if you insist,” she murmured, softening into him.
“No more ghosts, Sable. No more running. We’re home.”
Smiling against his warm, naked body, she knew this was both family and home.
* * *
Four years later
The sea was a sheet of molten blue around Isla Celeste, home to the Blood and Thunder team. Only the most trusted partners and colleagues were allowed access, and it thrilled him to see Sable and their children on the private beach.
Barefoot in the shallows, dark hair glinting in the sun, she tried and failed to keep hold of two small whirlwinds racing around her—the twins.
Their perfect chaos, as Sable called them, were three years old and already born conspirators.
Shrieking with delight as they dodged their mother’s grasp, they led Mara and Anna Marie in a merry dance while the two women did their best to help Sable contain them.
It became a game of lots of screaming and shouting, dodging and giggling, as the twins raced around and the three women tried their hardest not to catch them.
It was a wonderful sight that made all they’d fought for worthwhile.
Their home was alive with laughter, tiny footsteps, and the quiet miracle of everyday moments.
Children had changed them in ways no mission ever could.
Fearless in the field, Sable had found an equally vital position on the team as chief of strategy.
Her experience allowed her to plan and protect from a control room.
A natural home builder, she was a great mom to their kids, and he was reliably informed by his no-nonsense wife that patience and tenderness in dealing with children had softened his edges without dulling his fire.
She brought the twins to him, while Mara and Anna sat back on their sunbeds, chatting in the easy rhythm of people who had found peace.
Life couldn’t get much better.
Mara and Anna had elected to stay with the team. Trusted and beloved guardians of the next generation, they had become integral to everything.
Farther up the beach came a chorus of familiar voices: Alexei’s booming laugh, Dante arguing amiably with Diego, and Cesar and Conor locked in a good-natured contest involving Irish whiskey and terrible singing. The Blood and Thunder family reunited, not for a mission but for life.
Sable shaded her eyes and stared in the same direction.
A smile lit her face, and for a heartbeat, he pictured every version of her: the woman who’d saved his life by walking away; the ruthless mercenary who risked everything to save those in need; the caring, strong-willed woman who followed a young girl’s plight and stopped at nothing until she knew rescue was possible.
Sable was a fighter in every way. She had returned to save lives with him, and he knew without doubt that she would fight like a tiger for her cubs.
That was true wealth.
The sand was warm beneath his feet and the sound of the sea folded around them as he slipped an arm around Sable’s shoulders. She bent to lift one twin. He lifted the other, and they met in the middle in a group hug, laughter spilling from them as naturally as their next breath.
For years, he’d chased peace across oceans and battlefields, never realizing it could feel so good. Like sunlight and laughter, or the scent of salt and jasmine, Sable’s signature perfume, with her slender fingers laced through his, he had everything a man could ever need.
And his friends, he acknowledged, as their whoops of exuberance traveled across the beach. Blood and Thunder. Still standing. Still thriving. Still a family.
Taking all these blessings together, he was finally, finally, home.