The impact was a colossal, bone-shattering crunch of reinforced steel meeting solid granite. The War-Wagon’s nose plowed directly into the lower stone steps of the safehouse porch, the massive front winch grinding a shower of white-hot sparks into the driving rain. The force of the crash threw Elena forward against her harness, the engine screaming in protest as the tires spun, throwing great plumes of mud and wet gravel thirty feet into the dark forest behind them.
Silas Vane’s enforcers were scattered like dry leaves in a gale. Two of them were thrown clean off the porch by the shockwave, their weapons clattering against the stone, while Silas himself was forced back against the heavy oak door he had been trying to breach.
Julian didn't wait for the vehicle to stop vibrating. He threw
