The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 161

Chapter 90-1

Zara

The quiet that settles over the penthouse after the elevator descends is suffocating, thick with the lingering ghost of Willow’s promise

Locke doesn’t waste a second. The tender, caring man who was drawing my bath an hour ago is gone, replaced instantly by the MC member, the one who wields a gun as easy as taking a breath. He strides toward the wall-mounted panel beside the private elevator, his massive hands moving with practiced efficiency.

“Keypad override,” Locke mutters under his breath, tapping rapidly on the screen. “Manual key deactivation. Relink to my phone.”

I stand motionless, my skin freezing despite the robe wrapped around me. My hands are shaking so hard I have to tuck them deep into my sleeves to hide the tremor.

Locke turns back to me, the hard, protective edge in his eyes softening the second he sees me shivering. He closes the distance between us in two broad strides, gathering my pale, trembling frame directly into his arms. His body is warm, solid, and smelling of lavender and sex, a little oasis of safety against the icy dread pooling in my stomach.

“Zara,” he murmurs softly, his large hands cupping my face and forcing me to look up into his hard, unwavering gaze. “Look at me. She’s gone.”

“It’s not the door I’m worried about, Locke,” I say. I lean heavily against him, resting my forehead against his chest right over his thundering heart.

Every step you take toward the grave is a step I take toward taking back what’s mine. Her words feel like a poison running through my veins, an itch under my skin I can’t scratch out.

Locke presses a hard, fierce kiss to the top of my head, holding me flush against him until my shuddering breath slowly begins to level out. He steps back just an inch, glancing over his shoulder at the security screen before meeting my eyes again.

“I just locked the whole system down manually,” he explains, his tone low and even as he walks me through it. “I disabled the physical lock completely. The key you’re holding, her copy, any key… they’re completely useless right now. The cylinder won’t turn. I’ll bring a locksmith up tomorrow morning to rekey the whole mechanism, but until then, the only way that elevator moves to our floor is by typing in a brand new four-digit code.”

He presses his thumb to the panel, setting the temporary sequence. “Zero-eight-one-four. Nobody gets up here without me or you typing it in manually.”

I nod slowly, absorbing the relief of knowing her key is now nothing more than a useless piece of silver metal.

Only when he feels me stabilize does Locke reach into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He wraps one arm securely around my waist, keeping me anchored against his side while he hits speed dial and presses the phone to his ear.

Chapter 90

Claim

“Cobra,” Locke says. “We have a problem. Willow stole Zara’s elevator key out of her purse at the clubhouse earlier, and remembered the manual override code from days ago. We took back the key, and I’ve completely overridden the system. Can you grab Mayhem and get over here? We need to talk, Prez.”

He listens to my Dad’s response, nodding the whole time, then he says goodbye and hangs up.

We wait in the heavy, quiet living room, Locke.refusing to step more than an arm’s length away from me. Less than twenty minutes later, the internal intercom chimes once. Locke checks the live camera feed on his phone, then types in the new code to allow the elevator to ascend. When the doors slide open, the quiet atmospheric pressure of the apartment completely shatters.

Mayhem steps out first, his leather cut stretched tight over his massive shoulders, his jaw set like concrete. My brother’s dark eyes sweep the hallway in a single, practiced second, before his gaze lands on me. Right behind him, the sharp, deliberate clack-clack-clack of four-inch stilettos echoes loudly against the hardwood floor.

Jade pushes past Mayhem, looking like an absolute lethal storm wrapped in skin-tight black leather pants and a sheer crimson silk blouse. Her hair is styled in flawless, glossy waves, her eyeliner precise and perfect. The moment her eyes lock onto me – pale, shivering, and clutching my robe – she goes into pure, ride-or-die rage.

Comments

LUCK DRAW >

H

Vote