By evening, the boardroom incident had exploded across Grayson City like wildfire.Social media buzzed with footage from phones that had been recording—Marcus demolishing twelve bodyguards, Quamaine Potter's broken leg, Oliver Hartford's bloodied face.The viral video from Ocean Park had been eclipsed by something far more scandalous.SACRED SAINTESS'S HUSBAND BRUTALIZES POTTER HEIR IN CORPORATE BOARDROOMThe headlines screamed from every news outlet. Photos of Quinn—beautiful, cold, divine—juxtaposed with images of Marcus's violence. Commentary ranged from shock to outrage to morbid fascination."How could someone of her sacred standing marry such a violent criminal?""The Hartford wedding three years ago—everyone thought she'd made a mistake. Now we know for certain.""Sacred Saintesses are supposed to represent divine virtue. This is a disgrace to her bloodline."In a penthouse apartment overlooking Grayson City's financial district, Damien Potter watched the news coverage with bar

The crumpled bodies of Tyler King's white-clad martial artists lay scattered across the cracked asphalt like discarded puppets. Marcus Steel straightened his jacket, his expression utterly calm, as if he'd just finished a light warm-up rather than decimating four elite fighters in under thirty seconds.Aaron Jackson wiped blood from his knuckles, his breathing steady but his eyes sharp with satisfaction. "Four down. King's reputation just took a beating worse than his men did."From behind a rusted shipping container fifty yards away, Tyler King watched through binoculars, his hands trembling—not from fear, but from barely restrained fury. His jaw clenched so tight his teeth threatened to crack. The lead instructor, Master Chen, had trained for forty years. The man could break concrete with his bare hands. And this... this Marcus Steel had killed him like swatting a fly."What the hell is he?" Tyler muttered, his voice hoarse. The way Steel moved—it wasn't human. The speed, the streng

Marcus was already there. A single palm strike to the chest sent the man cartwheeling through the air, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground. He landed hard, his chest caved in, gasping for air that wouldn't come.The remaining four bodyguards opened fire simultaneously, muzzle flashes lighting up the dim warehouse.Marcus moved between the bullets like smoke, his speed defying physics. His hands became blurs of motion, and each strike dropped a bodyguard—one with a shattered knee, another with a crushed windpipe, a third with his arm bent at an impossible angle.The last bodyguard, trembling and wide-eyed, emptied his entire magazine at Marcus from point-blank range.Every single bullet missed.Marcus's hand shot out, grabbed the man by the face, and slammed him into the concrete floor hard enough to crack the foundation. The bodyguard's skull bounced off the ground with a sickening thud, and he went limp.Six elite fighters. Six seconds.And in those six seconds, several of

Hartford Group Headquarters - 7:47 PMQuinn Hartford's heels clicked against the marble floor of the parking garage as she walked toward her Rolls-Royce, her face an expressionless mask of cold indifference. The day had been exhausting—board meetings, financial reports, handling the fallout from the Potter family's economic assault. But she refused to show weakness, not even to herself.Her two new secretaries, introduced just this morning, flanked her at a respectful distance. Both were young women in their mid-twenties, dressed in matching yellow tracksuits that seemed oddly casual for office work. They'd introduced themselves as Lily Chen and Maya Rodriguez, sent by some business associate of Marcus's.Quinn had accepted them without question. After everything she'd witnessed Marcus do, she'd learned to trust his arrangements.The parking garage was nearly empty this late in the evening, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Quinn's Saintess senses prickled with unease, d

Seven Minutes LaterLily Chen's eyes fluttered open. Pain screamed through every nerve, but she was alive. Barely. Beside her, Maya groaned, also stirring."The... tracker..." Maya gasped, blood bubbling at her lips. "Did it... attach?"Lily pulled out her phone with trembling fingers, activating the tracking app. A green dot pulsed on the screen, moving rapidly through Grayson City's streets."It worked," she whispered. "We got them."With agonizing slowness, Lily dragged herself to her phone and dialed a number she'd memorized but prayed she'd never have to use—Amadeus Fairbanks's emergency line.The voice that answered was cultured and refined, but carried an edge of steel. "This had better be important.""Master Fairbanks," Lily's voice broke. "We failed. The Sacred Saintess... they took her. We tried to stop them, but—"The silence on the other end was more terrifying than any rage.When Amadeus spoke again, his voice was utterly devoid of emotion—the calm before a catastrophic s