Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 80

CHAPTER 80 PART 1

The tactical knife gleamed as Iron Hoof lunged forward, aiming for the manager’s exposed throat. The blade moved with professional precision-a killing stroke that had ended dozens of lives across three continents.

The manager’s scream died before it could form.

Iron Hoof’s blade pierced flesh, and the older man crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. The intelligence broker stood over the corpse, breathing hard, his mind already calculating next moves.

Disposal. Clean the scene. Maintain cover for forty-eight hours. Escape via cargo ship.

He turned toward the storage room door, blade still dripping crimson-

And froze.

A figure stood in the doorway. Average height, unremarkable features, wearing casual clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. But something about his presence made every instinct in Iron Hoof’s body scream danger.

“You’re Iron Hoof,” the man said quietly. Not a question. A statement of fact.

Iron Hoof’s grip tightened on his blade. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a waiter who defended himself from-”

He lunged, the blade aimed at the stranger’s heart with lightning speed-

And suddenly the man vanished.

Not metaphorically. He literally disappeared from Iron Hoof’s vision, moving faster than human perception could track.

Iron Hoof’s blade struck empty air.

“Looking for me?”

The voice came from behind him. Iron Hoof spun-

Marcus Steel’s hand clamped around his wrist with crushing force. The bones creaked audibly, and the knife fell from nerveless fingers, clattering to the floor.

“Fast,” Iron Hoof gasped, trying to pull free. “But not-”

Marcus’s other hand shot out, fingers finding a precise pressure point behind Iron Hoof’s ear. The intelligence broker’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

Black SUV – Grayson City Streets – 10:23 PM

Pain exploded through Iron Hoof’s skull as consciousness returned. Someone had dumped ice water on his face, and the shock brought him gasping back to awareness.

He was in the back of a moving vehicle-expensive leather seats, tinted windows, the hum of a powerful engine beneath him. His wrists were bound behind his back with zip ties that cut into flesh.

Aaron Jackson sat across from him, expression utterly cold. “Welcome back, Dmitri.”

Iron Hoof’s training kicked in immediately-deny, deflect, deceive. “I don’t know who that is. My name’s Hewitt Lancaster. I’m a hotel waiter. This is kidnapping-”

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“Save it,” Aaron interrupted. “We know exactly who you are. Intelligence broker for Deep Cold. Codename Iron Hoof. Responsible for coordinating the kidnapping of Quinn Hartford.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Iron Hoof’s voice rose with practiced desperation. “Please, there’s been some mistake! I’m just a working man trying to-”

Aaron pulled out a handgun, pressed it against Iron Hoof’s temple, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Empty chamber. But Iron Hoof’s bladder nearly let go from sheer terror.

“Next one’s loaded,” Aaron said conversationally. “Want to keep lying?”

Marcus Steel sat in the front passenger seat, not even turning around. “Aaron, check his pockets. Left side.”

Aaron reached into Iron Hoof’s stolen waiter uniform and pulled out the encrypted phone-the same device that had been transmitting a powerful tracking signal for the past hour.

“This is a Phantom-X encrypted communicator,” Aaron said, holding it up. “Military-grade, costs fifty thousand dollars, used exclusively by high-level intelligence operatives. And you’re telling me you’re just a waiter?”

Iron Hoof’s face went white.

“The tracking chip you thought was so clever?” Marcus finally turned to look at him, and Iron Hoof’s breath caught. Those eyes-glowing faintly with golden-red light that shouldn’t exist in a human face. “It led us right to you. The moment you answered Cash Lawson’s call, you might as well have sent us your coordinates with a bow on top.”

“I” Iron Hoof swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?”

“Information,” Marcus said calmly. “The Crimson Gorge squad. Frank Morrison’s unit. Where are they now?”

Iron Hoof’s mind raced. If he gave up Frank, the mercenary would kill him. If he refused, these men would kill him. Either way, he was dead.

But one death might be quicker than the other.

“They’re retreating,” Iron Hoof admitted. “Deep Cold ordered them to withdraw after the Willson Pavilion issued the Killing Order. Frank’s planning to leave Grayson City by tomorrow morning-private airfield, probably already arranging transport.”

“Call him,” Marcus ordered. “Tell him you’ve found a safe route out of the city. Lure him to a location of my choosing.”

“Are you insane?” Iron Hoof laughed bitterly. “Frank knows the entire city is locked down. He won’t trust-”

Aaron’s gun pressed harder against his temple. “Make it convincing.”

Iron Hoof stared at the phone, then at Marcus’s inhuman eyes, then back at the gun.

“Fine,” he whispered. “But I need to know-who the hell are you? What gives you the authority to lock down an entire city? To hunt Deep Cold operatives like animals?”

Marcus was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke, and his voice carried a weight that made the air in the SUV feel heavy and oppressive.

“I am Marcus Steel. Husband of Sacred Saintess Quinn Hartford. And more importantly-” His dragon aura flared

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briefly, making the temperature spike. “-I am the Young Master of the Ten Thousand Mountain Alliance.”

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CHAPTER 80 PART 2

The color drained from Iron Hoof’s face completely. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, like a fish drowning in air.

“No,” he finally whispered. “That’s… that’s impossible. The Ten Thousand Mountain Alliance is a myth. A legend used to scare-”

“Does this feel like a myth?” Marcus’s eyes blazed brighter, and dragon scales flickered across his knuckles- visible, undeniable proof of something beyond human.

Iron Hoof had operated in the shadows for decades. He’d traded in secrets that toppled governments. He knew the hidden hierarchies of the underworld-the criminal syndicates, the cultivation families, the ancient organizations that operated beyond normal law.

And at the very top of that hidden pyramid, whispered about but never openly discussed, was the Ten Thousand Mountain Alliance. A force so powerful that even Deep Cold-one of the world’s premier intelligence networks- refused direct confrontation.

“I helped kidnap… your wife…” Iron Hoof’s voice was hollow with horror, “A Sacred Saintess married to the Alliance Young Master…”

“Now you understand,” Marcus said quietly. “There is no hole deep enough for you to hide. No corner of the earth where you’ll be safe. No organization powerful enough to protect you.”

Iron Hoof’s hands trembled violently. His entire world had collapsed in the span of thirty seconds. He hadn’t just offended a powerful man-he’d committed a crime against forces that predated modern civilization.

“Please,” he gasped. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know who she was. The client just said it was a simple extraction-”

“Ignorance. Isn’t. Innocence.” Marcus’s voice carried ancient judgment. “You facilitated her drugging. Her restraint. Her delivery to that filth Jaxon Brand. Every second of her terror, every moment of her fear-that’s on you.”

Iron Hoof’s mind snapped under the pressure. If he was dead anyway, if there was no escape, then at least he could take this bastard with him. At least his name would go down in underworld history as the man who killed the Alliance Young Master.

His thumb moved subtly, pressing a hidden button on his encrypted phone. The explosive chip embedded in the device-military-grade C4, enough to obliterate everyone in the SUV-armed with a soft beep.

“You want information?” Iron Hoof laughed, the sound unhinged. “Here’s some information-you’re all dead in five seconds! Nobody threatens Iron Hoof and-”

Marcus held up his other hand.

Between his fingers, already removed from the phone, sat the explosive chip-a tiny square of circuitry and C4.

“You mean this?” Marcus asked calmly.

Iron Hoof’s eyes went wide. “How-when did you-”

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