The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 166

Chapter 92-1

My physical strength is coming back, steady and sure, a little more every single morning. The weakness from chemo that once dragged at my limbs is finally burning off, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity that has kept me glued to the clubhouse table since sunrise.

Locke leans over my shoulder, his large hand resting flat on the back of my chair. The warm and familiar scent of cedarwood wraps around me as he studies the dual screens on my laptop.

“You’re onto something,” he mutters, his thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw before dropping back to the wood. “Look at that power draw.”

“It looks crazy, but it’s not a mistake,” I say, my fingers flying across the trackpad to isolate the regional grid feed. “I’ve been cross-referencing the municipal utility spikes against the regional transport logs for the last four hours. We knew Knox was operating somewhere in the county, but he was completely ghosting his physical footprint.”

I swipe up a high-resolution satellite map, layering the electrical consumption data directly over a satellite view of the industrial corridor.

“Look right here.” I point to a dead zone on the county line, right off the old state route. “An abandoned industrial chemical processing plant. It was officially listed as decommissioned by the state five years ago, but look at the dedicated off-grid generator output. It spiked six hundred percent over the last three

months.”

Locke’s wolf eyes narrow, a dangerous, lethal focus settling over his features as he stares at the glowing coordinates. “That’s not a storage drop, baby. That’s ground zero. That’s where he’s pressing the fentanyl.”

A cold knot tightens in my stomach. The thought of that facility sitting just twenty miles away – actively churning out thousands of lethal pills every single day- makes my blood run cold.

“He’s got a full production setup in there,” Locke says, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register.” Mixers, pill presses, industrial ventilations. He’s operating on a massive scale.”

“And it’s active right now,” I add, turning in my chair to look up at him. “We finally have a physical location, Locke. He isn’t hiding behind shell companies or shadow drivers anymore. He’s right there.”

Locke doesn’t hesitate. He reaches down, closing my laptop with a sharp click and grabbing his phone off

the table.

“We take this to the war room,” Locke says, his tone leaving zero room for argument. “Now. I’m calling your Dad and brother to get to the clubhouse ASAP.”

“And you don’t want to talk about it here?” I look around Dad’s office. “You’re moving everything to the war room?”

“Well, Locke says grimly, listening to the phone ring at the other end. “It is a war, right?”

An hour later, the heavy oak doors of the clubhouse war room slam shut behind us, locking out the noise of the main bar.

Dad sits at the head of the long table, his leather cut open over a black t-shirt. He looks tired – the deep

Chapter 92+.

lines around his eyes betraying the emotional toll of the last few days – but his posture is rigid, commanding, and absolute.

Mayhem stands to his right, his broad shoulders squared, arms crossed tightly over his massive chest while his jaw works in a steady, angry rhythm.

Clam

Jade sits on the edge of the table next to him. She looks drop-dead sexy as ever in the tightest black skirt known to man and five-inch stilettos, one leg crossed over the other as she idly twists a gold ring on her thumb. Her sharp eyes track Locke and me the second we walk into the room.

“What’s so urgent?” Mayhem asks, his voice deep and impatient. “Locke said on the phone you found something concrete.”

“Sit down,” Locke tells him smoothly, pulling out a heavy wooden chair for me before standing right at my back. “And get to it, baby.”

I open the laptop, connecting it to the large wall-mounted monitor at the head of the room. The satellite map of the Route 9 industrial plant flares to life in bright, high-definition color, displaying the heat signatures and structural overlays.

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LUCK DRAW >

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