Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21 PART 1

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The Hartford Group employees stood frozen in the aftermath of violence, their faces pale with shock. This wasn’t the Marcus Steel they’d mocked for three years. This wasn’t the unemployed nobody who’d

endured their contempt in silence.

This was a man who protected what was his with absolute, terrifying dominance.

Even a sacred Saintess.

Robert Chen’s hands trembled as he lowered his phone, the recording he’d been taking suddenly feeling like evidence of something far more dangerous than gossip. “Did you see-” he whispered. “Did you see how he moved? That wasn’t… that wasn’t normal.”

“Like a cultivator,” Jessica breathed, her earlier mockery completely evaporated. “But he’s supposed to be powerless. How-”

“We were wrong,” Blair Ryan said quietly, staring at Marcus’s back as he stood between the employees and the exit where Silas had been dragged. “We were all so wrong about him.”

Quinn Hartford stood amidst the wreckage-broken tables, shattered bottles, blood staining the pristine floor-and felt something crack inside her chest.

Silent tears began streaming down her face.

For three years, she’d stood alone. Protected herself with her Saintess powers, maintained her dignity through holy authority, convinced herself she was strong enough to face everything by herself. Even tonight, when Silas had threatened her, her instinct had been to handle it alone, to create her barriers, to rely on divine bloodline rather than on the man she’d married.

But Marcus had stepped in front of her anyway.

Had shielded her with strength that went beyond her holy powers. Had sent one clear, undeniable message to everyone watching: No one bullies Quinn Hartford. Not while I’m alive.

When was the last time someone had defended her like that? When was the last time she hadn’t been

alone?

“Quinn?” Marcus’s voice broke through her thoughts, gentle in a way that made her tears fall faster. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, unable to speak, three years of buried grievances spilling out in silent sobs. The man everyone called trash. The husband she’d abandoned in a collapsing building. The worthless nobody she’d forced into a contractual arrangement.

He’d just defeated five armed men to protect her honor.

Marcus moved toward her, his expression softening in ways the employees had never seen. He reached out, hesitated-they weren’t really a couple anymore, just two people playing roles-but then Quinn surprised them both by stepping into his arms.

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“Thank you,” she whispered against his chest, her Saintess aura flickering around them both. “Thank you

for…”

“For being your husband?” Marcus finished quietly.

The words hung in the air between them, weighted with meanings neither could fully articulate.

Outside the Imperial Hall, Silas Cooper’s remaining conscious thugs dragged their boss toward the elevators, leaving trails of blood across expensive carpet.

“Boss, we need to get you to a hospital,” one of them said nervously. “Your face… your ribs…”

“Shut up,” Silas gasped, every breath agony. “Shut up and let me think.”

“That guy was insane! Where did he learn to fight like that?”

“Maybe he’s military? Special forces?”

“Or a cultivator hiding his power level?”

The youngest thug-barely twenty, new to Silas’s crew-suddenly went pale. “Boss… I just remembered something. Bruno ‘Black’ King.”

Silas’s head snapped up despite the pain. “What about Bruno?”

“He… he was killed three days ago. My cousin works in the morgue. Said Bruno’s body had the Soul- Chasing Token on it.”

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CHAPTER 21 PART 2

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The thugs fell silent. Everyone in the underworld knew about the Soul-Chasing Token. Aaron Jackson’s death sentence. Nobody marked by it survived.

“Bruno was killed for offending someone,” the young thug continued, his voice shaking. “The rumor

was… it was someone named Marcus Steel.”

Silas’s blood-covered face went even paler. “No. No, that’s impossible. Marcus Steel is a useless son-in- law. Everyone knows-”

“Everyone knows wrong,” another thug interrupted, realization dawning. “Boss, we didn’t provoke a loser. We provoked the guy who had Bruno King executed. The guy who has Aaron Jackson’s protection.”

“And the guy,” the youngest added, “who just defended a Saintess like she was his most precious treasure. Someone who might be more dangerous than the Saintess herself.”

Silas slumped against the elevator wall, every broken rib screaming, glass embedded in his face, the taste of beer and blood and defeat mixing in his mouth.

He’d attacked the wrong man. Completely, catastrophically, fatally the wrong man.

And if Marcus Steel decided retribution wasn’t finished…

“Get me out of this city,” Silas whispered. “Tonight. We leave tonight and never come back.”

One floor below, in the Azure Pierce’s main ballroom, Jaxon Brand’s birthday celebration was in full

swing.

The only son of the powerful Brand family held court like a prince, surrounded by dozens of wealthy heirs and heiresses-children of politicians, business moguls, and old money families. The champagne flowed freely, the music pounded, and the arrogance was thick enough to choke on.

Jaxon himself lounged in a velvet chair that might as well have been a throne, twenty-four years old and convinced the world existed for his amusement. Designer suit that cost more than a car. Watch worth more than most houses. The kind of sneer that came from never being told “no” in his entire privileged

life.

A security guard burst into the ballroom, his face flushed with urgency. “Mr. Brand! There’s been an incident upstairs!”

Jaxon barely looked up from his phone. “And?”

“Silas Cooper was beaten. Badly. His entire crew destroyed by one man.”

That got Jaxon’s attention. He set down his champagne, his expression shifting from bored to intrigued. ” Silas Cooper? The enforcer everyone’s afraid of?”

“Yes, sir. They’re saying some guy named Marcus Steel did it.”

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“Marcus Steel?” Jaxon tested the name, found it unfamiliar. “Never heard of him. Probably some nobody trying to make a name for himself.”

His friends gathered closer, sensing entertainment.

“Should we go check it out?” Connor Ashford suggested, already drunk and eager for drama. “Could be fun.”

“Fun?” Jaxon’s sneer widened. “It could be hilarious. Some nobody thinks he can beat up Silas Cooper in my building, on my birthday, and get away with it?”

“The entire first floor is yours, Jaxon,” Victoria Pierce-Tobias’s daughter-purred. “Everything happening here reflects on the Brand family reputation.”

“Exactly,” Jaxon stood, cracking his knuckles. “And I can’t have people thinking the Brands tolerate disrespect.” He turned to the crowd of wealthy heirs. “Who wants to help me teach this Marcus Steel about proper birthday etiquette?”

Cheers erupted. Dozens of drunk, aggressive rich kids rallied behind their leader, eager to show off, eager to prove their loyalty to Jaxon Brand, eager for the kind of violence they could afford to participate in without consequences.

“This is gonna be epic,” someone laughed.

“Dude’s gonna regret ever stepping foot in this hotel.”

“Jaxon’s gonna destroy him.”

Jaxon Brand led his small army toward the elevators, his friends and sycophants following like a pack of well-dressed wolves. They reached the Imperial Hall floor, their footsteps loud and unsteady, their voices

raised in drunken anticipation.

“Kick down the door!” someone shouted.

“Make an entrance!”

“Show them who owns this place!”

Jaxon grinned, stepped forward, and kicked the Imperial Hall doors with all his strength.

The ornate doors burst open for the second time that night.

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