Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20 PART 1

Silas wiped blood from his forehead with the back of his hand, glass fragments falling from his ruined face. His laugh came out wet and cold, blood bubbling between his teeth.

“You’re dead,” he promised, his voice shaking with rage. “I’m going to cripple you. Break every bone in your hands so you can never raise them against anyone again.”

His thugs advanced, forming a semicircle around Marcus, their weapons gleaming in the Imperial Hall’s golden light.

One Hartford employee-a junior analyst named Kevin-scrambled away from his table, hands raised. “I-I don’t know him! I’m not with Marcus! I just work here!”

Silas backhanded him without even looking. Kevin hit the floor hard, his glasses skittering across polished marble.

“Nobody leaves,” Silas snarled, pulling a dagger from inside his jacket. The blade was seven inches of serrated steel that had clearly seen use. “Not until I break this trash’s hands and teach his Saintess wife

what happens when you disrespect Silas Cooper.”

Quinn’s chair scraped backward as she stood, her Saintess aura exploding outward in brilliant golden light. Defensive energy crackled around her, forming a shimmering barrier-her instinctive response to protect her husband.

“Marcus, get behind me!” she commanded, holy power making her voice resonate with authority.

But Marcus remained exactly where he was, standing between Quinn and the advancing thugs. He

turned his head slightly, just enough to meet her eyes.

“It’s fine,” he said softly, and the calm in his voice was somehow more terrifying than any threat. “Stay

behind me.”

“Boys,” Silas commanded, gesturing with his bloody dagger. “Seize him.”

The thugs rushed forward.

Marcus moved.

The first thug-a heavyset man with gang tattoos covering his arms-swung brass knuckles at Marcus’s head. Marcus caught his wrist mid-swing with superhuman speed, twisted, and the crack of breaking bone echoed through the hall like a gunshot.

The thug’s scream was cut short when Marcus drove his knee into the man’s solar plexus with dragon- enhanced strength. Ribs shattered. The thug flew backward ten feet, crashing into a table and sending expensive china exploding across the floor.

The second thug came with a knife. Marcus sidestepped the thrust with fluid grace, caught the man’s extended arm, and kicked him in the chest so hard blood sprayed from his mouth. The thug sailed across the room, demolishing a serving cart before crumpling unconscious.

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Shock rippled through the Imperial Hall like a physical wave.

“What the-”

“Did you see how fast he moved?”

“That wasn’t normal! That was like… like a cultivator!”

Marcus stood in the center of the carnage, barely breathing hard, his expression calm as death. Two of Silas’s best men lay broken on the floor, and he’d barely exerted himself.

Silas stared, realization dawning in his blood-covered face. This wasn’t an ordinary opponent. This wasn’t some unemployed nobody playing tough.

This was something else entirely.

“RUSH HIM!” Silas roared, charging forward himself, his blade flashing toward Marcus’s throat with the speed and precision of someone who’d killed before.

“Marcus!” Quinn’s scream tore through the hall, her Saintess powers surging to maximum, golden light flooding the room.

But Marcus was already moving.

He seized the nearest thug-a thin man with a telescoping baton-by the collar and spun him with impossible strength. The man became a shield, positioned perfectly between Marcus and Silas’s charging blade.

The dagger plunged into the thug’s stomach.

The man’s eyes went wide with shock and betrayal as his own boss’s blade buried itself in his gut. Blood poured over Silas’s hand.

“What-” Silas started.

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CHAPTER 20 PART 2

Marcus released the dying thug and delivered a devastating flying kick to Silas’s ribs. The impact sounded like a car crash. Silas’s body lifted off the ground, flew backward, and crashed into the wall hard enough to crack the ornate paneling.

He slid down, leaving a blood smear, gasping for air through what were definitely several broken ribs.

The remaining thugs froze, weapons dropping from nerveless fingers, all thoughts of fighting evaporating in the face of Marcus’s overwhelming power.

“Anyone else?” Marcus asked quietly, his dragon eyes glowing faintly in the Imperial Hall’s light.

Silence. Absolute, terrified silence.

Silas Cooper lay on the floor of the Imperial Hall, blood pooling beneath him, ribs broken, face destroyed, utterly helpless. His gang surrounded him in similar states-broken bones, unconscious bodies, the wreckage of men who’d thought themselves invincible.

And standing over them all was Marcus Steel.

Quinn stared at her husband-this stranger who wore a familiar face-and felt her entire worldview cracking apart. Three years. Three years of living with him, treating him like worthless baggage, believing him to be powerless and pathetic.

She’d never known him at all.

The man who’d seemed useless now radiated lethal confidence and power that made even her Saintess abilities feel inadequate. And he’d used that power to protect her. Had stood between her and danger

without hesitation.

My Saintess intuition told me he was my destined partner, Quinn thought, her heart pounding. I thought it was wrong. I thought I’d made a mistake. But what if…

Marcus grabbed Silas by his blood-matted hair and hauled him into a sitting position. With his other hand, he snatched a beer bottle from the case still sitting on Quinn’s table.

“Open your mouth,” Marcus commanded.

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