Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 141

CHAPTER 122 PART 2

Marcus Steel’s dragon senses had already mapped the disturbance before he reached the boutique. His stride was unhurried – the deliberate patience of a predator who knew exactly what he was walking toward – but beneath the calm, his aura stirred like embers refusing to die.

Cosmo fell into step beside him, her hand resting loosely near her sleeve where the needles waited. She scanned the crowd ahead with eyes trained to categorize threats in under a second, then exhaled softly.

“Not Shadow Warriors,” she murmured, just loud enough for him.

Marcus said nothing. His gaze had already found Quinn.

She stood at the entrance of a women’s boutique, three shopping bags hanging from one hand, posture arrow- straight. Anyone passing might have mistaken her composure for boredom. Marcus knew better that rigid stillness was Quinn Hartford at her most dangerous, the kind of cold restraint she exercised when every instinct told her to move.

Beside her, Lance was already running her mouth at full volume.

The source of the problem became clear in an instant. Wesley Hartford stood with his chest puffed out and his arms folded, wearing the particular expression of a man who’d spent years nursing a grievance and finally felt safe enough to air it. Beside him, one hand curled possessively around his arm, stood a woman Marcus didn’t recognize – early thirties, glossy hair, designer everything, and the practiced sneer of someone accustomed to being the most important person in any room she entered.

“That’s Ives Abbott,” Cosmo said quietly. “Abbott Family. Five-River Province. Her uncle runs a significant portion of Grayson City’s commercial district.”

Marcus stopped walking. He leaned against a nearby column, arms folded, and watched.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here.” Ives looked Quinn up and down like she was inspecting something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. “I heard Hartford Group was circling the drain. Shouldn’t you be in an emergency board meeting somewhere? Or did you come here to beg for loans?”

Lance turned on her instantly. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? I don’t know what province you crawled out of, sweetheart, but you clearly have no idea who-”

“And you are?” Ives cut her off with a dismissive wave. “Nobody. Sit down.”

Lance’s eyes went flat. “I’m going to need you to repeat that.”

“Nobody.” Ives enunciated each syllable with deliberate cruelty. “Is that clear enough, or do you want me to say it slower?”

Wesley smirked, enjoying the performance entirely too much. He tilted his head at Quinn with the lazy confidence of someone who’d been waiting a long time for this moment “Quinn, It’s been a while. You look tired. The chairman’s desk wearing you down?”

Quinn didn’t look at him. Her gaze remained straight ahead, cool and distant as February rain.

“Wesley,” she said. “You should leave.”

“Should I?” He clicked his tongue. “See, I don’t think I should, You’ve spent the last few months running around like you own the family. Acting like Father’s disappointment in you wasn’t the worst-kept secret in Grayson City. “He smiled. “It’s nice to see you out here, struggling like everyone else.”

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CHAPTER 12 TANT I

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Quinn’s expression didn’t shift by a single degree.

Ives, apparently deciding that verbal warfare wasn’t satisfying enough, stepped forward and swung her hand toward Quinn’s face.

She didn’t connect.

Quinn caught her wrist – not violently, not even with visible effort — and held it. The motion was so clean, so effortlessly precise, that Ives stumbled forward on her own momentum and nearly fell into her. For one suspended moment, the two women stood inches apart.

Quinn released her wrist like she was setting down something mildly unpleasant.

“Don’t,” Quinn said softly.

The crowd around the boutique entrance had begun to slow and stop. Ives straightened, her face cycling through shock, humiliation, and fury in rapid succession before settling on the last one entirely.

“She touched me.” Ives spun toward Wesley, her voice climbing. “She grabbed me. Wesley, she grabbed me

“I blocked you,” Quinn said, with precisely zero inflection. “There’s a difference. I won’t explain it twice.”

“You little-“Ives’s voice dropped to something poisonous. “Kneel. Apologize. Right now. In front of everyone.”

Lance burst out laughing. It was not a kind laugh. “Did she just — did this woman just tell Quinn Hartford to kneel? In Crystal Plaza? On a Saturday?”

“One more word out of you,” Ives snapped, “and I’ll have your face rearranged.”

“Ooh.” Lance pressed a hand to her chest in mock alarm. “I’m so scared of the woman who just got her wrist caught by someone not even trying. Please, go ahead and try.”

Ives’s composure finally cracked. “You cheap little-”

“Slut.” Lance said it pleasantly, like a greeting. “Since we’re doing insults, let’s do insults. Hi. You’re a slut. How’s that working out for you?”

The word landed like a slap. Ives made a sound somewhere between a shriek and a snarl.

Wesley moved first. His arm swung toward Lance-

Anna’s palm connected with the side of his face before his hand got halfway there.

The crack of it echoed off the marble floor. Wesley staggered. His sunglasses hit the ground. He pressed one hand

to his cheek and stared at Anna like she’d materialized from empty air.

“Don’t,” Anna said pleasantly. Her voice was shaking slightly, but her eyes weren’t.

“Riggs.” Ives’s voice went very quiet, “Jett,”

The two bodyguards stepped forward. They were built for intimidation-wide shoulders, blank faces, the practiced stillness of men who hurt people professionally.

Nicholas Lancaster’s escorts moved to intercept them. They barely lasted thirty seconds. Riggs drove an elbow into the first man’s ribs with casual brutality. Jett swept the second one’s legs before he could even plant his feet. In the space of a breath, three of Lancaster’s men were on the floor and the remaining escorts backed away, one already reaching for his phone.

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Ives smoothed her jacket. “Lancaster’s people,” she said, with the contemptuous amusement of someone who’d just confirmed a suspicion. “Is that the best protection money buys in Grayson City these days?”

A ripple passed through the crowd as Nicholas Lancaster appeared at the corridor’s edge, his cane tapping against marble, flanked by six men in dark suits.

–

Wesley’s bravado evaporated instantly. His posture changed — spine softening, chin dropping by degrees — the body language of a man who had just recalculated his odds and found them lacking. He took a half-step back.

Ives didn’t move.

“Nicholas Lancaster.” She said it like she was reading a mediocre review. “I know who you are. Used to be real estate. Now you carry bags and run errands.” She tilted her head. “You should leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

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