Quinn sat rigid in her chair, her spine straight, her Saintess aura carefully dimmed to appear calm and in control. But beneath the polished surface, her mind raced with calculations and damage control.The whispers had already started. She could hear them even through the ambient music and polite dinner conversation—speculation about her marriage, questions about the "arrangement" Tessa had screamed about, doubts about whether the perfect Saintess was as perfect as everyone believed.Marcus returned to his seat beside her, his movements fluid and controlled. For a moment, their eyes met across the small space between them."Thank you," Quinn said quietly, the words almost physically painful to force out. "For... maintaining the agreement.""That's what you hired me for, isn't it?" Marcus replied coolly, his voice carrying no warmth whatsoever. "To play the good husband when it's convenient for your career."The word hired stung more than Quinn expected. It reduced their entire relati

Maxwell Lacey had been drinking. Not heavily—just enough to loosen his tongue and inflate his already considerable ego. He'd been R&D director for five years, had pursued Quinn Hartford back when she was just a promising junior Saintess, and had never quite forgiven her for choosing Marcus Steel over men like him.Now, emboldened by alcohol and the murmuring support of other disgruntled employees, Maxwell stood up from his table."You know what I don't understand?" he announced loudly enough to cut through conversation. "How a sacred Saintess—someone chosen by divine bloodline to lead and heal—could lower herself to marry common trash."The Imperial Hall went quiet. Several employees looked nervously at Quinn, then at Marcus."Maxwell," Quinn said, her voice carrying warning. "Sit down.""No, no, let me finish," Maxwell continued, his words slightly slurred. "Because I think it speaks to judgment, doesn't it? The Hartford family trusted Quinn with a major project, gave her a leadershi

Silas Cooper swaggered into the Imperial Hall like he owned it, beer bottle dangling from one massive hand, his five thugs spreading out behind him with practiced intimidation. Their boots tracked mud across the pristine floor, their leather jackets reeked of cigarettes and cheap cologne, and their eyes scanned the room with predatory assessment.Outside, Carter Lancaster and Tessa Hartford waited eagerly, already anticipating the sounds of violence, the satisfaction of watching Marcus Steel get what they believed he deserved.One of Silas's men immediately slapped a waiter who tried to intercept them. The crack of palm against cheek echoed through the hall, followed by the waiter stumbling backward, hand pressed to his reddening face."Sorry about that," Silas called out with false cheer, his voice booming across the stunned silence. "My boys get a little enthusiastic sometimes. We're just here to offer a friendly drink. You know, celebrate with the host of this fine establishment."

Marcus released the dying thug and delivered a devastating flying kick to Silas's ribs. The impact sounded like a car crash. Silas's body lifted off the ground, flew backward, and crashed into the wall hard enough to crack the ornate paneling.He slid down, leaving a blood smear, gasping for air through what were definitely several broken ribs.The remaining thugs froze, weapons dropping from nerveless fingers, all thoughts of fighting evaporating in the face of Marcus's overwhelming power."Anyone else?" Marcus asked quietly, his dragon eyes glowing faintly in the Imperial Hall's light.Silence. Absolute, terrified silence.Silas Cooper lay on the floor of the Imperial Hall, blood pooling beneath him, ribs broken, face destroyed, utterly helpless. His gang surrounded him in similar states—broken bones, unconscious bodies, the wreckage of men who'd thought themselves invincible.And standing over them all was Marcus Steel.Quinn stared at her husband—this stranger who wore a familiar

The thugs fell silent. Everyone in the underworld knew about the Soul-Chasing Token. Aaron Jackson's death sentence. Nobody marked by it survived."Bruno was killed for offending someone," the young thug continued, his voice shaking. "The rumor was... it was someone named Marcus Steel."Silas's blood-covered face went even paler. "No. No, that's impossible. Marcus Steel is a useless son-in-law. Everyone knows—""Everyone knows wrong," another thug interrupted, realization dawning. "Boss, we didn't provoke a loser. We provoked the guy who had Bruno King executed. The guy who has Aaron Jackson's protection.""And the guy," the youngest added, "who just defended a Saintess like she was his most precious treasure. Someone who might be more dangerous than the Saintess herself."Silas slumped against the elevator wall, every broken rib screaming, glass embedded in his face, the taste of beer and blood and defeat mixing in his mouth.He'd attacked the wrong man. Completely, catastrophically,