Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 8

When they were gone, Aaron opened a hidden compartment in his desk. Inside lay something that made the air itself seem to grow colder—a black token the size of a poker chip, carved with ancient symbols that seemed to writhe in the dim light.

The Soul-Chasing Token.

He hadn’t used it in years. Didn’t need to. The reputation alone was enough to make most threats disappear. Every person marked by this token in the past had died within half a day—no exceptions, no mercy.

Aaron’s fingers closed around the token, and his eyes burned with purpose.

Anyone who threatened Marcus Steel would die. Anyone who threatened the Dragon King’s return would be eliminated.

No matter who they were.

Meanwhile, in the north city’s Skyline Bar, Oliver Hartford lounged in a private room that reeked of cigarette smoke, cheap cologne, and expensive alcohol. He counted out two hundred thousand dollars in cash, sliding the neat stacks across the table to Bruno King.

Bruno grinned, gold teeth glinting. “Damn, Oliver. You really hate this guy, huh?”

“Marcus Steel,” Oliver spat the name like poison. “That useless piece of trash suddenly thinks he’s somebody. Walking around the Hartford company like he owns the place, talking back to the executives, acting like he’s not just Quinn’s worthless husband.”

“Ex-husband soon, from what I hear,” Bruno chuckled, pocketing the money. “Word is she’s dumping him for Alexander Grant.”

“Good riddance,” Oliver said viciously. “But before that happens, I want him dealt with. I want him broken. Think you can handle that?”

Bruno leaned back, supremely confident. “Brother, for two hundred K, I’ll break his legs and his arms. Hell, I’ll make it so creative he’ll wish Jasper’s boys had finished the job earlier. That useless son-in-law won’t even remember his own name when I’m done.”

“Just make sure it can’t be traced back to me,” Oliver warned. “I can’t have Quinn finding out I was involved.”

“Relax,” Bruno waved dismissively. “I’m a professional. This ain’t my first—”

The door exploded inward.

The kick was so powerful it tore the entire door off its hinges, sending it crashing across the room. A man stepped through the opening—compact, muscular, with eyes that promised extreme violence.

Bruno’s confident grin vanished instantly. His face went pale. “D-Dominic Martinez…”

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver demanded, trying to salvage his dignity despite the sudden spike of fear in his chest. “Do you know whose room you just—”

“Shut up,” Dominic said simply.

Oliver did.

Then another figure appeared in the doorway, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees.

Aaron Jackson.

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