Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 96

CHAPTER 96 PART 1

Jade Phoenix Restaurant – 7:51 PM

Marcus’s phone rang again before he could pocket it. Aaron Jackson’s number flashed on the screen, but this time the background noise was different-gunfire, screeching tires, shouted commands.

“Elder brother!” Aaron’s voice was strained, gasping between words. “We’re-we’re pinned down! Leopold River Highway, near the old industrial district! They knew our route-knew exactly where we’d be!”

“How many?” Marcus demanded, his dragon aura flaring with fury.

“At least twenty-maybe more! Dominic’s hit-shoulder wound-we’re trying to reach the woods but they’ve got us flanked!” The sound of shattering glass punctuated Aaron’s words. “They’re not trying to capture-they want us DEAD!”

“Hold position. I’m coming.”

“Elder brother, no! This is a trap to separate you from the Sacred Saintess! They want you isolated-”

“I don’t abandon my people,” Marcus interrupted coldly. “Hold. Position.”

He ended the call and turned to Cole Harrison. “Quinn stays here with your protection. If anything—and I mean anything-happens to her while I’m gone, Willson Pavilion will answer to forces that make your Pavilion Master look like a street gang. Am I clear?”

Cole’s expression didn’t change, but something in Marcus’s tone-that ancient authority barely contained-made him bow deeply. “Crystal clear, sir. The Sacred Saintess will be protected with our lives.”

Quinn grabbed Marcus’s arm. “You’re not going alone. Aaron needs-”

“Aaron needs me focused, not worried about you.” Marcus took her face in both hands, his dragon aura wrapping protectively around her one final time. “Trust the Pavilion. Trust me. I’ll bring Aaron back.”

He kissed her forehead, then was gone-moving through the restaurant and out the back exit with speed that made Quinn’s Saintess senses scream warnings she couldn’t quite interpret.

Cole gestured to four of his concealed operatives. “Full defensive perimeter around the Sacred Saintess. No one gets within ten feet.”

Leopold River Highway – Old Industrial District – 8:03 PM

Aaron Jackson’s BMW was a bullet-riddled wreck, steam hissing from the punctured radiator, windows shattered into crystalline fragments scattered across the highway. He and Dominic Martinez had abandoned it fifty yards back, running for the tree line as automatic weapons fire chewed up asphalt behind them.

Dominic clutched his left shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers. “Boss-you need to go! Get to the woods! I’ll hold them here!”

“Shut up and run,” Aaron snarled, half-dragging his injured subordinate toward the darkness beneath the pine trees. “We don’t leave brothers behind.”

“There’s too many!” Dominic gasped as another burst of gunfire sent bark exploding from a tree trunk inches from his head. “You can’t-you have to survive to avenge the others! Elder brother needs you!”

“Elder brother needs BOTH of us!” Aaron pulled Dominic behind a concrete barrier-remnants of the old industrial complex that had stood here decades ago. “Now shut up and let me think!”

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But thinking was becoming difficult. Aaron’s own ribs ached from earlier impacts-body armor had saved his life but left him bruised and battered. His right hand throbbed where a bullet had grazed it. Blood ran into his left eye from a cut across his forehead.

Twenty attackers, maybe more. Professional mercenaries, not street thugs. Military-grade weapons and tactical coordination that spoke of serious funding and planning.

Someone paid a fortune for this hit, Aaron realized. This isn’t opportunistic. This was planned for weeks.

Footsteps approached from multiple directions—the attackers spreading out, flanking, cutting off escape routes with practiced efficiency.

“Come out, Axel Jackson!” A voice called from the darkness, cultured and cold. “Or should I say Aaron? I’ve heard you go by both names. The legendary crime boss who controls half of Grayson City’s underworld. The man who slapped my brother in front of hundreds of witnesses.”

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CHAPTER 96 PART 2

Aaron’s blood ran cold. That voice-he’d never heard it before, but the similarity to another voice he had heard made identification instant.

“Cameron Brand,” Aaron said quietly.

“Very good!” The voice came closer, accompanied by the sound of expensive shoes on gravel. “I see my family’s reputation precedes us. Yes, I’m Cameron Brand-eldest son of Damien Brand, brother to the late, lamented Jaxon Brand.”

A figure stepped into view where the highway lights barely reached the tree line. Mid-thirties, tall and lean, wearing an expensive dark suit that somehow remained immaculate despite the violence. His features were similar to Jaxon’s-same sharp cheekbones, same predatory eyes-but refined by years abroad, educated in violence far more sophisticated than his younger brother’s crude brutality.

Cameron held a tactical dagger in his right hand-seven inches of serrated steel that gleamed in the dim light.

“I was in Switzerland when I heard about Jaxon’s death,” Cameron continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather. “Murdered in his own home. Hibiscus Mansion-the fortress Father bought him-reduced to a graveyard. Forty elite bodyguards slaughtered. My baby brother executed like a dog.”

“Your baby brother,” Aaron spat blood, “tried to rape a Sacred Saintess. He got what he deserved.”

“DESERVED?!” Cameron’s cultured composure cracked, revealing the murderous rage beneath. “You helped that bastard Marcus Steel kill my blood! You slapped Jaxon-humiliated him publicly! And you dare speak to me about what anyone deserves?!”

He advanced slowly, his mercenaries spreading out to cut off any escape.

“Tell me something, Aaron Jackson,” Cameron said, his voice dropping to a deadly purr. “Which hand did you use? When you slapped my brother at the Azure Pierce Hotel, making him kneel before that fallen Saintess and her worthless husband-which hand struck the blow?”

Aaron said nothing, his mind racing through impossible calculations. Twenty mercenaries. Two wounded men. No backup for at least ten minutes even if elder brother was already on the way.

“Not answering?” Cameron smiled, and it was his brother’s cruel expression refined into something far more dangerous. “That’s fine. I’ll just take both hands. Cut them off slowly, one finger at a time, while you scream. Then I’ll do the same to your friend there.”

He gestured at Dominic with the dagger.

“And when you’re both bleeding and broken, when you’ve suffered a fraction of what my brother suffered, then I’ll grant you the mercy of death.”

“Your brother,” Aaron said, forcing his voice to stay steady, “dishonored a Sacred Saintess. Attacked divine bloodline. That crime demanded execution.”

“My brother was MURDERED!” Cameron roared, his composure shattering completely. “And you-you helped! You stood by and watched while Marcus Steel destroyed my family! While he killed Jaxon! While he disrespected the Brand name!”

He took another step forward, the dagger raised.

“So here’s what’s going to happen, Aaron. I’m going to cut off your hands. Both of them. And I’m going to send them to Marcus Steel in a box, with a note explaining that this is just the beginning. That everyone who helped

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him-everyone who stood by him-everyone who dishonored my brother-will pay the same price.”

Dominic tried to stand, to shield Aaron, but his wounded shoulder gave out and he collapsed with a grunt of pain.

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