Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 92

CHAPTER 92

Skyline Restaurant – Downtown Grayson City – 8:17 PM

Quinn Hartford sat alone at a corner table, her fingers wrapped around a glass of water, her cold indifference masking the nervous energy beneath. Marcus was seventeen minutes late-not like him at all. Her Sacred Saintess intuition prickled with unease, sensing something had delayed him.

She pulled out her phone, typing a quick message: Where are you? Is everything okay?

The reply came immediately: On my way. Five minutes. Sorry for the delay.

Quinn set her phone down, her posture perfect despite her concern. Around her, Skyline Restaurant buzzed with the quiet conversations of Grayson City’s elite-politicians, business executives, old money families dining on expense accounts and inherited wealth.

“Well, well, well,” a slurred voice interrupted her thoughts. “What do we have here? A beautiful woman dining alone. That’s a crime against nature.”

Quinn looked up to find three men approaching her table. The leader-a heavyset man in his forties with a flushed face and expensive but poorly fitted suit-swayed slightly, reeking of whiskey. His companions, twin brothers with identical sharp features and predatory smiles, flanked him like jackals.

“I’m waiting for my husband,” Quinn said coldly, her Saintess aura flickering with warning. “Please leave.”

“Husband?” The heavyset man laughed, pulling out the chair across from her and sitting down uninvited. “I’m Cesar Pendleton-owner of the Pendleton Hotel chain across Five-River Province. And these fine gentlemen are the Lancaster brothers, Leopold and Leonardo-biggest real estate developers in Grayson City.”

Léopold Lancaster leaned against Quinn’s table, his grin oily and presumptuous. “Your husband clearly doesn’t appreciate what he has, leaving a woman like you waiting alone. Why don’t you join us instead? We’ve got a private room, excellent wine-”

“I said no,” Quinn interrupted, her voice dropping to freezing temperatures. “Leave. Now.”

“Feisty!” Cesar laughed, reaching across the table to touch Quinn’s hand. “I like that. Tell you what, sweetheart- I’ll pay you fifty thousand for one evening of your company. Cash, right now.”

Quinn jerked her hand away, her Sacred Saintess aura flaring with golden light that made the nearby candles flicker. “Touch me again and you’ll regret it.”

Leonardo Lancaster whistled low. “Did you see that? The light around her? Gentlemen, I think we’ve found ourselves a real Sacred Saintess. The fallen one everyone’s been whispering about-the divine beauty who married some worthless nobody.”

“Is that true?” Cesar’s eyes gleamed with drunken excitement. “You’re the Sacred Saintess who threw away her bloodline for love? How pathetic. Divine power wasted on a woman with no sense.”

“My husband will be here any moment,” Quinn said, her cold indifference cracking slightly to show the anger beneath. “And when he arrives, you’ll wish you’d walked away while you had the chance.”

“Your husband?” Leopold sneered. “What’s he going to do? We’re connected, sweetheart. Cesar owns half the hotels in Five-River Province. Leonardo and I control real estate development throughout Grayson City. We have ties to the underworld, the government, everyone who matters.”

The restaurant manager-a nervous man in his fifties named Gerald-approached with trembling steps. Gentlemen, please. You’re disturbing our other guests. If you could return to your own table—”

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Cesar backhanded him across the face.

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The slap echoed through the restaurant like a gunshot. Gerald stumbled backward, his cheek already reddening, tears of humiliation springing to his eyes.

“Know your place, peasant,” Cesar snarled. “I spend more in one night than your pathetic salary for a year. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Several diners looked away, unwilling to get involved. The Pendleton and Lancaster names carried weight- crossing them meant business trouble, personal harassment, doors permanently closed.

Quinn’s hands clenched into fists beneath the table, her Saintess aura blazing brighter. “You’re making a terrible mistake.”

“The only mistake,” Leonardo said, sliding into the chair beside her, “is you choosing some nobody over successful men who could actually appreciate-”

“Get.Away. From. My. Wife.”

The voice came from the restaurant entrance, cold and carrying an edge that made the temperature seem to drop ten degrees.

Marcus Steel stood in the doorway, his dragon aura radiating controlled fury despite being invisible to normal eyes. But the pressure-the overwhelming presence of ancient power barely restrained-made everyone in the immediate vicinity instinctively lean back.

Quinn’s Sacred Saintess intuition immediately recognized that aura, responded to it, her own divine energy reaching out instinctively toward her husband’s protective power.

“Marcus,” she breathed, relief flooding through her.

Cesar turned in his chair, looking Marcus up and down with drunken contempt. “This is your husband? This… boy? Sweetheart, you really did marry down, didn’t you?”

Marcus walked toward their table with predatory grace, each step measured and deliberate. “You have three seconds to move away from my wife before I move you myself.”

Leopold Lancaster laughed. “Big words from a nobody. Do you know who we are? Cesar Pendleton owns-”

“I don’t care if he owns the moon,” Marcus interrupted, his dragon eyes beginning to glow faintly. “Three. Two. One.”

He reached down, grabbed Cesar Pendleton by the collar with one hand, and lifted him out of the chair with dragon -enhanced strength that made the heavyset man’s feet leave the ground.

“What the “Cesar’s protest turned into a yelp as Marcus shoved him backward.

The hotel magnate flew three feet, crashed into an empty table, and landed hard on the restaurant floor in a sprawl of expensive fabric and wounded dignity.

“You—you just assaulted me!” Cesar sputtered, his face purple with rage and alcohol. “Do you have any idea what I can do to you?!”

“Marcus, please,” Quinn stood, grabbing her husband’s arm. Her cold indifference was gone, replaced by genuine concern. “Let’s just leave. These men aren’t worth the trouble.”

“They disrespected you,” Marcus said quietly, his voice carrying that inhuman resonance that made the Lancaster

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brothers exchange nervous glances. “They touched you without permission. They offered you money like you’re some commodity to be purchased. They’ll pay for that.”

Leopold tried to salvage the situation with bluster. “You just made the biggest mistake of your worthless life, boy. We have connections. Underworld connections. You think some street punk can-”

Marcus’s hand shot out, grabbed Leopold by the throat, and slammed him against the nearest wall hard enough to crack the decorative plaster.

“I’m not a street punk,” Marcus said calmly, his dragon aura flaring just enough to make Leopold’s survival instincts scream in terror. “I’m the man who’s going to teach you what happens when you threaten a Sacred Saintess.”

“Marcus, stop!” Quinn’s voice carried genuine fear-not for herself, but for what her husband might do to these fools. “They’re not worth it! Let’s just go!”

Leonardo pulled out his phone with shaking hands. “You’re dead! You hear me? DEAD! I’m calling our people right now! Twenty men will be here in five minutes!”

Cesar struggled to his feet, grabbed a wine bottle from a nearby table, and charged at Marcus with a drunken roar.

Marcus didn’t even turn around.

His elbow shot backward, catching Cesar in the solar plexus with dragon-infused force. The hotel magnate’s eyes bulged, all air driven from his lungs, and he stumbled backward-

Directly into a decorative glass table.

The impact shattered the table into a thousand glittering pieces. Cesar crashed through it, landing in a heap of broken glass and spilled wine, cuts appearing on his face and hands.

The restaurant erupted into chaos. Diners screamed. Waiters ducked behind the bar. Gerald the manager frantically dialed emergency services.

Leonardo’s phone call connected. “Get everyone to Skyline Restaurant NOW! Some punk just attacked Cesar Pendleton! I want thirty men here in five minutes!”

Cesar pulled himself up from the shattered glass, blood streaming down his face, his expensive suit torn and ruined. His drunkenness had burned away, replaced by cold, murderous rage.

“You’re finished,” he hissed at Marcus. “I’m calling Three Blade Group. You know them? The organization that controls half of Grayson City’s underworld? They owe me favors. Big favors.”

He pulled out his own phone, dialing with shaking, bloody fingers.

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