Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 4

The building’s tremor started as a low rumble, the kind you feel in your bones before your brain registers danger. Then the world lurched.

Crystal chandeliers swayed violently, their thousand prisms throwing chaotic light across walls that suddenly weren’t straight anymore. The floor buckled beneath Marcus’s feet like a living thing. Somewhere in the distance, glass shattered in cascading waves.

Then the screaming started.

“Earthquake!” someone shrieked.

Panic erupted instantly. Guests in their designer clothes and glittering jewelry stampeded toward exits like cattle, all pretense of civilization abandoned. High heels snapped. Men shoved women aside. The carefully cultivated veneer of upper-class civility cracked and fell away, revealing the animal terror underneath.

Marcus’s instincts overrode everything else—the humiliation, the rage, the bleeding knuckles from Alexander’s face. His body moved before his mind caught up, turning back toward the banquet hall, fighting against the tide of fleeing bodies.

“Quinn!” His voice cut through the chaos. “We need to get out! Now!”

He could see her through the crowd, still in that emerald dress, Alexander beside her clutching his bruised jaw. The building groaned, a sound like a dying giant, and a section of ceiling collapsed twenty feet to their left.

Marcus pushed forward, shoving through the panicked mass. “Quinn!”

But Alexander was already there, his hand clamped on Quinn’s arm with possessive urgency. “Quinn, stay close to me!”

Quinn’s eyes blazed with golden light. Her Saintess powers erupted in a brilliant flare, holy energy cascading from her skin like liquid sunshine. The air shimmered, and a barrier of golden light formed around her and Alexander—a perfect dome of divine protection.

Debris fell. A chunk of marble the size of a car door crashed down directly above them. The barrier deflected it effortlessly, the holy energy sending the rubble skittering harmlessly aside.

“Marcus!” Quinn’s voice rang out, and for one desperate second, hope surged in his chest. “The barrier can only protect two people! Find your own way out!”

The words hit harder than any of the falling debris.

Marcus staggered, the crowd pressing around him, elbows and shoulders driving into his ribs as people fought for survival. Through the chaos, he watched his wife’s golden barrier shimmer and pulse, protecting her and Alexander with divine power while leaving him exposed to the collapsing building.

“Quinn, please!” He reached toward her, twenty feet feeling like miles. “Just expand the barrier!”

“I can’t!” She was already moving toward the emergency stairwell, pulling Alexander with her. “It takes too much holy energy! Alex is injured because of you—I have to protect him!”

Another massive tremor. The floor tilted at a sickening angle. A support beam tore free from the ceiling with a shriek of tortured metal, trailing electrical wires that sparked and hissed. It crashed down in an explosion of concrete and dust, the shockwave picking Marcus up and hurling him backward into a pile of debris.

His head cracked against something hard. Stars burst behind his eyes. When his vision cleared, he was half-buried in rubble, concrete dust filling his lungs.

“Quinn!” The word came out as a cough, barely audible over the building’s death throes. “Help me!”

Through the smoke and swirling dust, he could see them ahead—Quinn and Alexander bathed in that golden protective glow, moving steadily toward the emergency stairwell. They looked like angels ascending to heaven while the world burned around them.

Marcus clawed his way out of the debris, every muscle screaming. His left arm throbbed—sprained or broken, he couldn’t tell. Blood ran down his face from a gash somewhere in his hairline.

He stumbled forward, following the golden light like a moth to flame.

The stairwell entrance appeared through the smoke. Quinn and Alexander were already halfway down, the golden barrier lighting their path. Marcus reached the entrance, started down, when the building gave another violent lurch.

The stairwell buckled. Metal railings tore free. Concrete steps crumbled like sand.

“Move! Move!” Alexander’s voice echoed up from below. “The whole thing’s coming down!”

They emerged from the stairwell into what must have been a lower level—Marcus couldn’t tell anymore, the building’s geography had become a nightmare maze of collapsed walls and twisted metal. Smoke filled everything, making his eyes stream.

Through the haze, he saw it: a narrow opening in the rubble ahead, maybe four feet high and three feet wide. Beyond it, the faint glow of emergency lights. A way out.

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