Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 244

CHAPTER 172 PART 3

The other two bodyguards who’d exited scrambled back toward the SUV, forming a defensive barrier. Weapons appeared from concealed holsters-pistols, one submachine gun, professional firepower wielded by professionals.

Another dart whistled through the air. The second bodyguard dropped, the projectile embedded in his throat

“At least two attackers!” the remaining guard outside called. “Front and rear positions! Hidden weapons-darts or needles! Standard cover won’t help!”

Miguel’s driver threw the vehicle into reverse, but the fallen pillar made maneuvering impossible. They were boxed in-trapped between the obstruction ahead and whatever waited behind.

“Stay in the car,” Marcus ordered, his hand already on the door handle.

“Are you insane?” Miguel grabbed his arm. “They’re using poison darts! Professional assassins! You can’t just-

Marcus pulled free and kicked the door open. “Yes, I can.”

He emerged into the abandoned street, his dragon aura flaring to full strength. The pressure made the air feel thick and oppressive, like standing in a thunderstorm just before lightning struck.

Three more darts flew toward him from different directions-professional triangulation, designed to make dodging impossible.

Marcus moved with dragon-enhanced speed. His body blurred, positions shifting faster than the human eye could track. All three darts missed, embedding harmlessly in the SUV’s armored panels.

“Fifth floor,” Marcus said quietly, his dragon eyes locked on a specific window in the abandoned factory building ahead. “Twenty-three meters, northwest corner.”

His hand moved to his belt, finding the throwing knife he’d taken from the Shadow Warrior in the woods. Dragon power flowed through his arm as he hurled the blade with inhuman force.

The knife crossed twenty-three meters in less than a second, crashed through the filthy window, and embedded itself in something soft. A figure fell forward into view-Shadow Warrior in dark clothing, the knife protruding from his forehead.

But Marcus was already moving. He sprinted toward the building with dragon speed that made his bodyguards look like they were standing still. More darts flew, but none connected- he was too fast, too unpredictable, enhanced by power that transcended normal human limitations.

He crashed through the building’s ground floor entrance, his dragon senses mapping the interior instantly. Concrete floors. Metal support beams. Abandoned machinery creating maze-like cover. And somewhere above the second attacker.

Marcus took the stairs three at a time, his enhanced muscles making the climb effortless. Fourth floor. Fifth floor. The building’s decay meant nothing to his dragon-strengthened body.

On the fourth-floor landing, another Shadow Warrior waited this one armed with a long knife instead of darts, clearly the close-combat specialist.

The blade whistled toward Marcus’s throat with professional precision.

Marcus caught the wrist mid-strike. His dragon-enhanced grip crushed bone. The Shadow Warrior’s scream was cut short when Marcus’s fist drove into his solar plexus with enough force to rupture internal organs.

1.2

⚫25 Bonus

The knife clattered to the floor. Marcus picked it up, tested the weight, then drove it into the fallen assassin’s heart.

Two down.

He continued upward, reaching the fifth floor where the dart-shooter had been positioned. The body was still there, his knife still embedded in the forehead, but movement on the rooftop above suggested a third attacker.

Marcus didn’t hesitate. He climbed through a broken skylight, emerging onto the roof just as another dart whistled past his ear.

“Third position,” he muttered, calculating trajectory. “Southeast, approximately forty meters.”

Another building. Another Shadow Warrior. Professional coverage, professional spacing-this was a coordinated team, not random assassins.

Marcus pulled the dart from where it had embedded in the rooftop tiles. He examined it for half a second, then hurled it back with dragon power.

The projectile crossed forty meters and struck the distant Shadow Warrior in the shoulder. Not fatal, but disabling. The figure stumbled, fell, and Miguel’s remaining bodyguards were on them in seconds.

That left one.

Marcus’s dragon senses detected movement-someone fleeing. The last Shadow Warrior, recognizing the ambush had failed, was attempting escape.

“Not today,” Marcus said quietly.

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