Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 227

CHAPTER 164 PART 2

The shooter in the back finally overcame his shock and went for his weapon-a compact pistol designed for close- range execution. But before his hand could clear his jacket, the remaining two assassins attacked.

They moved in perfect coordination, abandoning caution for desperate aggression. The man in white came from the left, his fists enhanced by brass knuckles designed to shatter bone. The man in black attacked from the right, his foot lashing out in a kick aimed at Marcus’s knee-trying to cripple, to disable, to create any opening.

Marcus leaped.

Not sideways. Not backward. Up.

Dragon-enhanced leg muscles launched him six feet into the air, clearing both attacks completely. And as he descended, his hands moved with precision that came from power beyond mortal training.

His right hand caught the white-clad assassin’s extended wrist mid-strike. He twisted-dragon strength making resistance impossible-and the wrist bones shattered with sounds like breaking branches. Before the man could even scream, Marcus’s left hand struck the black-clad assassin’s knee with enough force to destroy the joint completely.

Both men collapsed, their legs-or in the white assassin’s case, his wrist–no longer functional. Their screams overlapped, raw and desperate.

Marcus landed between them, completely balanced, utterly unbothered.

“Impossible,” the leader breathed, his weapon finally clearing his jacket but his hand shaking too badly to aim properly. “You’re just… you’re just one man…”

“I’m the Dragon King,” Marcus corrected. “There’s a difference.”

He moved toward the leader-not rushing, just walking with calm confidence-and the man fired.

Three shots. Center mass. Professional placement.

Marcus sidestepped the first two with movements that shouldn’t have been possible at such close range. The third bullet actually grazed his shoulder-not penetrating, just skimming the surface, his dragon-enhanced durability preventing serious damage.

“You missed,” Marcus observed.

“I never miss,” the leader whispered, terror finally overwhelming professionalism. “I’ve been shooting for twenty years. I never-”

Marcus’s palm strike caught him in the throat, crushing the windpipe. The leader dropped his weapon, hands flying to his neck, choking, dying slowly.

Marcus turned his attention to the two crippled assassins still screaming on the ground. “You have information I want. Who else knows about the bounty? How many others are coming?”

“Fuck you!” the man in black gasped through his pain. “You think ”

Marcus stepped on his shattered knee. Hard. The scream that followed was inhuman.

“Who. Else. Knows.”

“Everyone!” the white-clad assassin sobbed, cradling his destroyed wrist. “The bounty’s on the dark web! Every contractor in the region knows! You’re worth more dead than most targets are alive!”

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“How many are coming?”

“Dozens! Maybe hundreds! The Lancaster Family has unlimited resources! You can’t kill us all!”

“I can kill you,” Marcus pointed out. “That’s a start.”

The white-clad assassin’s functioning hand moved-fast, desperate, pulling something from his sleeve. A silver needle, barely visible in the dim light, coated with something that gleamed wetly.

Poison.

He threw it with professional skill, aiming for Marcus’s neck.

Marcus caught it mid-flight.

Just… caught it. Between two fingers. Like plucking a butterfly from the air.

The white-clad assassin stared in absolute disbelief. “That’s… that’s impossible… nobody’s reflexes are that-”

Marcus drove the poisoned needle into his eye.

The scream cut off abruptly as toxins designed to kill in seconds went directly into the brain. The assassin convulsed once, twice, then went still.

The man in black, watching his companion die, tried to crawl away-dragging himself with his arms since his legs no longer worked. “Please… please I’ll tell you anything… I have money… connections… just let me—”

Marcus’s foot came down on the back of his neck. One precise stomp. Dragon-enhanced force.

The spine separated. Death was instant.

The leader was still choking, still clawing at his crushed throat, when Marcus walked back to him. The man’s eyes pleaded-for mercy, for medical help, for anything.

Marcus watched him die without expression.

Four professional assassins. Fifteen years of experience each. Coordination honed through countless kills. Weapons, training, tactical advantage.

All of it meaningless.

The entire fight had lasted less than five minutes.

On a hillside overlooking the grove, Allen Mitchell lowered his binoculars with shaking hands. Beside him, Ives Abbott sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, her own binoculars pressed against her face, her expression frozen in shock.

“Did we…” Ives started, her voice barely a whisper. “Did we just watch…”

“Yes,” Allen confirmed, his professional calm cracked for the first time in years. “We just watched the Dragon King kill four professional assassins like they were children.”

“He didn’t even get hurt,” Ives breathed. “They shot at him. They attacked together. They had weapons and training and-”

“And it didn’t matter,” Allen finished. “Because he’s not human. Not really. Whatever the Dragon King is-it’s beyond what normal people can fight.”

Ives’s phone buzzed. She nearly dropped it, her nerves completely frayed. The caller ID showed Marcus’s number.

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“He’s calling me,” she said unnecessarily.

“Answer it,” Allen instructed.

Ives pressed the button with trembling fingers. “M-Marcus?”

“I need cleanup,” Marcus’s voice came through, calm and businesslike. “Four bodies. Professional disposal. Can Allen handle that?”

Allen took the phone from Ives’s numb hands. “Mr. Steel. Are you injured?”

“Grazed shoulder. Nothing serious. Can you handle disposal?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll call our people. Twenty minutes.”

“Good. I’ll wait here. And Allen-bring medical supplies. The graze is bleeding more than I expected.”

The call ended.

Allen immediately dialed another number, speaking in code to people who specialized in making problems disappear. Bodies. Evidence. Witnesses.

Ives stared at the grove where Marcus stood among the corpses, his posture relaxed, his dragon aura finally fading to dormant levels.

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