Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 137

CHAPTER 120 PART 2

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Cosmo slid into the chair opposite him, having declined shopping in favor of staying close to her Dragon King. Her sharp eyes detected the subtle tension in his posture that others would miss.

“Just thinking,” Marcus admitted quietly. “About what comes next.”

“Next?”

“I want a peaceful life with Quinn,” Marcus said, his dragon aura pulsing with rare vulnerability. “I’ve been the Dragon King, leader of the Ten Thousand Mountain Alliance, for longer than most civilizations have existed. I’m tired of power. Tired of enemies. I just want to live quietly with my Sacred Saintess.”

“But you can’t,” Cosmo said, understanding immediately.

“No.” Marcus’s expression hardened. “The moment I step down, enemies I’ve suppressed for centuries will surface. Old grudges. Ancient vendettas. Forces that remember when the Dragon King ruled with absolute authority and want revenge for defeats their ancestors suffered.”

He took a sip of coffee, his dragon eyes distant with calculation. “Right now, my identity is partially hidden. Shadow Warriors come blindly, thinking I’m just Marcus Steel-civilian target. They die without understanding what they faced. But if I fully reveal myself as the Dragon King-”

“Fewer would come,” Cosmo finished, “but those who did would be far more dangerous.”

“Exactly. And my dragon memories are still incomplete. The attack three years ago damaged more than just my power-it erased crucial knowledge. There’s something I’m forgetting. Someone I should remember. And that unknown threat terrifies me more than any enemy I can name.”

Cosmo studied her master with expression somewhere between affection and exasperation. “You know what’s funny? In our world-the Shadow Warrior underworld-you could easily be king. Absolute ruler. Nobody would dare challenge you.”

“I don’t want to be king,” Marcus said flatly. “I just want peace.”

Then his expression changed.

The shift was subtle-eyes narrowing fractionally, dragon aura pulsing once with focused attention. Cosmo’s instincts screamed danger before she’d consciously registered the change.

“Master?”

Marcus’s lips barely moved, the words shaped carefully to avoid being read by anyone watching. “Two Shadow Warriors. Can you handle them?”

Cosmo’s smile didn’t change, but her body went into combat-ready state instantly. “Of course. Where?”

Marcus reached out casually, adjusting Cosmo’s hair with gentle touch that looked intimate to observers but allowed him to subtly redirect her gaze. “Janitor. Ten o’clock. Pushing cleaning cart. And flyer distributor. Two o’clock. Both excellent disguises.”

Cosmo’s eyes tracked the directions without moving her head. The janitor-mid-forties, unremarkable, methodically cleaning with professional disinterest. The flyer distributor-younger woman, smiling pleasantly as she offered shopping promotions to passing customers.

Both appeared completely ordinary. But now that Marcus had pointed them out, Cosmo detected the wrongness- eyes that moved too precisely, bodies positioned for optimal reaction angles, the subtle tension of professionals

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maintaining cover.

Her phone buzzed. Marcus had sent encrypted identification: Gemini. Twin assassins. Disguise specialists. Extremely dangerous.

Cosmo memorized the information, slipped her phone away, and stood with theatrical grace. “Master, I need to stretch my legs. I’ll be right back.”

She walked toward the flyer distributor with casual confidence, her movements carrying none of the lethal precision she’d use in actual combat.

The woman offered her a flyer with practiced smile. “Special promotion at—”

Cosmo’s hand shot out and slapped her across the face.

The crack echoed through the shopping corridor. Heads turned. Conversations stopped. Everyone stared at the sudden violence.

“How DARE you!” Cosmo’s voice carried perfectly pitched outrage-wealthy, entitled, offended beyond reason. Do you know who I am?! Do you know how much this bag costs?!”

She gestured at her designer purse. “And you you just TOUCHED it with your filthy flyer! Probably got grease on the leather! This is a fifty-thousand-dollar bag!”

The flyer distributor’s eyes flashed with killing intent for a microsecond before she buried it beneath shocked innocence. “I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean-”

“Didn’t MEAN?!” Cosmo slapped her again, harder. “You insulted me! Called me names under your breath! I heard you!”

“I didn’t say anything-”

“You called me a WHORE!” Cosmo’s voice climbed to theatrical heights. “Said I probably slept my way to this wealth! How DARE you!”

The growing crowd murmured with mixed reactions. Some condemned Cosmo’s violence. Others whispered about entitled rich people. The flyer distributor stood frozen, maintaining her innocent victim facade despite the humiliation.

She could dodge, the assassin thought desperately. Could block. Could break this spoiled brat’s arm. But any abnormal reaction exposes training. Exposes mission. Must endure.

“I should tear your mouth apart!” Cosmo raised her hand for another slap, her performance perfect-spoiled, unhinged, dangerous in the way only wealthy people with zero consequences could be,

Her wrist was caught mid-swing.

The janitor had appeared silently, his hand gentle but firm on Cosmo’s arm, his smile pleasant and disarming.

“Miss, please,” he said with practiced calm, “Let it go. She didn’t mean any harm. These workers have hard lives. Show a little mercy.”

His eyes met Cosmo’s, and in that brief contact, both assassins recognized her for what she was.

The trap had closed.

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