Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 217

CHAPTER 160 PART 1

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The silence in Room 507 was profound and terrible. Not the comfortable quiet of peace, but the suffocating absence of sound that comes when fear has stripped away every instinct except survival.

Even the music that had been playing earlier remained off, as if the sound system itself understood that what was happening required witnesses, not distraction.

Atlas Lancaster swayed slightly, held upright only by Allen’s men gripping his arms. Blood ran freely from his nose, his split lips, the gash on his head where Nathan’s bottle had connected.

His Tom Ford suit-eight thousand dollars of pristine tailoring-was ruined beyond any dry cleaner’s ability to

restore.

More than that, though, was the ruin of his face. Swollen. Bleeding. Unrecognizable compared to the perfectly groomed young master who’d walked in twenty minutes ago.

Marcus Steel stood before him, hands relaxed at his sides, dragon aura radiating controlled power that made the air feel heavy and oppressive.

His knuckles showed traces of Atlas’s blood, but otherwise he appeared completely composed. Untouched. In

control.

“Do you understand yet?” Marcus asked quietly. “Or do we need to continue?”

Atlas spat blood, the gesture meant to be defiant but coming across as pathetic given his current state. “You… you think this changes anything? You think hitting me makes you powerful?”

“I think hitting you demonstrates you’re powerless,” Marcus corrected. “Despite your name. Despite your family. Despite all the threats you keep making.”

Murmurs rippled through the young elites clustered against the far wall. They’d been silent spectators so far, but self-preservation was beginning to override shock. Being in this room, witnessing this, made them complicit. When the Lancaster Family retaliated-and everyone understood there would be retaliation-anyone present could become a target.

“Marcus,” one of them-a young man named Trevor Park, son of a shipping magnate-spoke up hesitantly. ” Maybe we should… maybe this has gone far enough? Atlas has learned his lesson, right? We can all just—”

The beer bottle caught Trevor square in the forehead before he could finish. His head snapped back, the impact dropping him instantly to his knees. Blood poured from a gash above his eyebrow, mixing with beer as the bottle shattered across the expensive carpet.

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Marcus’s voice remained calm, conversational even. “Did I give you permission to speak?”

Trevor clutched his bleeding head, whimpering. “I was just… I didn’t mean ”

Marcus grabbed him by the hair-an undignified grip that forced Trevor’s head back at painful angle-and dragged him forward. The young man scrambled on his knees, trying to keep up, trying to prevent his hair from being ripped out by the roots.

“Kneel properly,” Marcus ordered, positioning Trevor directly in front of where Atlas was being held. “Head down. And thank me for the lesson.”

“Thank you,” Trevor gasped immediately, survival instinct overriding pride. “Thank you for ”

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Marcus slammed Trevor’s head down against the marble floor.

The crack was sickening. Trevor’s forehead connected with stone with enough force to split skin and draw fresh blood. He screamed-a high, desperate sound that made several spectators flinch.

“Again,” Marcus said simply. “With more feeling this time.”

Trevor slammed his own head down, tears streaming freely now, mixing with blood and beer. “Thank you! Thank you for the lesson!”

“Better.” Marcus released his hair, letting Trevor collapse fully to the floor, sobbing. “Everyone else do you have opinions you’d like to share? Suggestions? Requests that I show mercy?”

Silence. Absolute and immediate.

“Good,” Marcus observed. “You’re learning faster than Atlas.”

He turned back to the Lancaster heir, whose expression had cycled through shock, fury, and was now settling somewhere in the territory of genuine fear.

“Now,” Marcus said, his dragon eyes boring into Atlas. “Let’s make this educational for everyone. A question for the room-does Atlas Lancaster deserve to be beaten?”

The young elites exchanged panicked glances. This was a trap. Answer yes, and you made an enemy of the Lancaster Family. Answer no, and you made an enemy of Marcus Steel.

But Marcus’s dragon aura pressed down on them, making clear that silence wasn’t an option either.

“I asked a question,” Marcus repeated, his voice dropping to something colder and more dangerous. “Does. Atlas. Lancaster. Deserve. This.”

“Yes!” The answer burst from multiple throats at once-desperation overriding loyalty, fear trumping consequences. “Yes, he deserves it! He’s a bully! He terrorizes people! He sent criminals to kidnap Elize!”

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