Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 211

CHAPTER 157 PART 1

Allen Mitchell didn’t believe in half-measures. In his twenty years protecting the Abbott Family’s interests, he’d learned a fundamental truth: mercy was mistaken for weakness, and weakness invited further attacks. So when his men secured the last of Nathan’s crew, zip-tying hands and forcing them to their knees in a neat row, Allen approached the situation with professional thoroughness.

He picked up one of the unbroken champagne bottles from the table-a 1998 Dom Pérignon that probably cost more than most of these thugs made in a month- and examined it thoughtfully.

“You know what I hate?” Allen asked conversationally, addressing the room at large but looking directly at Nathan. “I hate people who prey on the weak. Women, especially. It’s cowardly.”

Nathan, still groggy from Marcus’s beer bottle strike, tried to focus through the pain. Blood matted his bald head, and his vision swam alarmingly. “We were just-”

The champagne bottle came down on the nearest thug’s shoulder with brutal precision. The crack of breaking bone echoed through the suddenly silent room, followed immediately by screaming.

“Did I ask you to speak?” Allen’s voice remained conversational, almost pleasant. “I don’t recall giving you permission.”

He moved to the next man in line-the one who’d lunged at Ives-and kicked him in the ribs with steel-toed boots. The impact lifted the bound man off his knees and sent him sprawling sideways, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

Several of the young elites looked away. Simeon King pressed her hand to her mouth. Even Brandon Chen, who’d talked tough all night, had gone pale and quiet.

But Marcus watched with complete calm, his dragon eyes cataloging every movement, every reaction. This was education. This was power displayed without apology or restraint. And these soft children needed to see it- needed to understand that their world of social games and family connections existed only because men like Allen enforced boundaries with violence.

Allen worked his way down the line methodically. Not killing-that would be messy and attract unwanted attention–but delivering targeted strikes designed to cause maximum pain and long-term damage. A shattered kneecap here. A crushed hand there. Professional brutality administered with surgical precision.

By the time he reached Nathan again, the bald enforcer was trembling-not just from his head wound, but from watching his entire crew systematically dismantled.

“Now,” Allen said, crouching down to Nathan’s eye level. “Let’s have a conversation. Who sent you?”

Nathan’s eyes darted to Atlas Lancaster, still standing frozen by the doorway, his face a mask of barely controlled panic.

“I… I can’t-” Nathan began.

Allen grabbed Nathan’s thumb and bent it backward. Not breaking it-not yet-but applying enough pressure to make the threat unmistakable. “Wrong answer. Try again. Who sent you?”

“Atlas!” The name burst from Nathan’s lips before he could stop it. “Atlas Lancaster! He hired us through Cesar Pendleton’s network! Said to grab the Yarrow girl, rough her up a bit, make an example!”

The admission hung in the air like a death sentence.

Atlas’s face drained of color. “You lying piece of-”

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“Shut up,” Allen said mildly, not even looking at Atlas. “Adults are talking.” He returned his attention to Nathan.” And what were you promised? Money? Protection?”

“Both,” Nathan gasped, tears streaming down his face now-from pain, from fear, from the sudden realization that his careful calculations had led him into a trap with no escape. “Fifty thousand to grab her. Another fifty to keep her for three days. And Lancaster protection if anything went wrong.”

“Lancaster protection,” Allen repeated thoughtfully. He released Nathan’s thumb and stood. “How’s that working out for you?”

The bitter irony wasn’t lost on anyone. The Lancaster name-which had seemed so powerful an hour ago-meant nothing now. Atlas himself was powerless, his hired muscle broken and bleeding, his carefully laid revenge plot exposed and crumbling.

Marcus stepped forward then, his movement drawing every eye in the room. He’d been content to let Allen handle the interrogation, but now it was time for the next phase.

“Nathan,” Marcus said quietly. “Look at me.”

Nathan’s head jerked up, meeting the Dragon King’s eyes with visible effort.

“You made a mistake tonight,” Marcus continued. “You accepted a job without understanding who you’d be crossing. That’s on you. But what happens next-that’s your choice.”

“What… what do you mean?” Nathan’s voice was hoarse.

Marcus pulled out his phone, placed it on the table in front of Nathan, and activated speaker mode. “Call Atlas Lancaster. Tell him the job is done. Tell him Elize Yarrow is secure and everyone else is detained. Tell him to come collect his prize.”

Nathan stared at the phone like it was a live grenade. “You want me to… but he’s right there-”

“Do I look like I care?” Marcus’s dragon aura flared slightly, making the air feel heavy. “Make the call. Now.”

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