Saintess’s Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander

: Mistake

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.

Bruno actually whimpered.

"Well, well," Aaron said quietly, stepping into the room with the casual grace of an apex predator. "What do we have here? Bruno King and... who's this? Some Hartford family brat playing gangster?"

"I'm Oliver Hartford," Oliver said, trying to sound authoritative and failing miserably. "Quinn Hartford's cousin. You better watch who you're—"

"Quinn Hartford," Aaron repeated, his voice going dangerously soft. "The same Quinn who was married to Marcus Steel?"

The name hung in the air like a death sentence.

Oliver's bravado crumbled. "I... I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Don't lie to me, boy." Aaron moved closer, and Oliver pressed back against the leather booth. "We heard everything. You paid Bruno here two hundred thousand to 'deal with a useless son-in-law.' That son-in-law wouldn't happen to be Marcus Steel, would it?"

Silence.

"I thought so," Aaron continued. "Dominic, take Mr. Hartford outside. Give him a beating he'll remember for the rest of his miserable life. But don't kill him—the final decision about Quinn's family belongs to Marcus."

"Wait!" Oliver scrambled backward. "You can't do this! My family will—"

Dominic grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out like a sack of garbage, Oliver's protests fading into the hallway.

Aaron turned his full attention to Bruno.

Bruno shook uncontrollably, gold teeth chattering. "A-Aaron, man, listen. I didn't know, okay? I swear I didn't know who Marcus Steel really was. Oliver just said some nobody, some unemployed loser—"

"You accepted money to hurt someone under my protection," Aaron said quietly. "That's your first mistake. Your second mistake was accepting that contract after Jasper Grant's assassins failed."

"I'll give the money back!" Bruno pleaded, fumbling for the cash. "All of it! Two hundred K! Just let me—"

"It's too late for that."

Aaron reached into his jacket and withdrew the Soul-Chasing Token. The black token seemed to absorb light, its carved symbols writhing with malevolent energy.

Bruno's eyes went wide with primal terror. "No... no, please, not that... Aaron, I'm begging you..."

Aaron spoke four words, each one carrying the weight of absolute finality:

"To kill you."

His fingers flicked.

The Soul-Chasing Token flew through the air in a perfect arc, embedding itself in the wall directly above Bruno's head. The symbols glowed with sickly red light.

"You have until sunrise," Aaron said calmly, turning toward the door. "The token has marked you. There's nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide. Your death is already sealed."