The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 202

Chapter 106-1

Zara

The kitchen in Locke’s penthouse looks like a crime scene, if the crime was committed by two women with a disposable income and a terrifyingly high tolerance for silver tequila.

Cardboard take-out containers are scattered across the island, emptied of spring rolls, pad thai, green curry, and an obscene pile of crab rangoon that lade and I systematically destroyed over the last two hours.

Beside the wreckage sits a blender, half-full of slushy lime, and a giant bowl of salt that has slowly spread across the counter like a powdery beach.

The stereo in the living room is blasting an 80s dance track, and Jade is currently demonstrating a move she calls “the functional knee-bend,” which mostly involves her trying not to fall into the couch.

“The secret to a proper margarita,” Jade says, pointing a half-empty glass at me. “Is that the third one is actually mostly juice.”

“Jade,” I say, sagging against the doorframe to keep my balance. “That was a lie when you said it an hour ago, and it’s a lie now. It was almost all tequila. I watched you pour it.”

“Details,” she dismisses, waving a hand. “The point is, we’re refueling. We’ve suffered emotional trauma, so we need refined carbohydrates and high-proof spirits. It’s medical.”

“Medical,” I agree solemnly, taking another sip. “Amen, sister.”

My head feels wonderfully light, floating somewhere near the exposed brick ceiling. For the first time in what feels like months, the heavy, suffocating weight in my chest is completely gone.

There’s no fear, no Knox, no shadows lurking in the corner of my mind. Just the sting of cold lime, the salt on my lips, and the sheer, intoxicating freedom of being safe.

“Come on,” Jade commands, grabbing my hand and yanking me back toward the middle of the polished hardwood floor. “You’re not moving enough. The calories don’t burn themselves, Zara!”

“I don’t think calories count after midnight,” I protest, but I’m already laughing, kicking off my socks so I can spin without slipping.

We’re mid-disaster – a synchronized, incredibly sloppy attempt at a routine we definitely haven’t practiced – when the elevator chimes and the door slides open.

I know before I see him.

I don’t know how I know, exactly, except that the atmosphere in the room shifts the second he steps across the threshold. Or maybe I shift. Maybe some part of my brain has simply learned the exact weight of his presence in every space we share.

Locke walks in first, taking off his leather cut with one smooth movement. Right behind him is Mayhem, looking massive, windblown, and carrying a bag of dark glass beer bottles.

Both men stop dead in the entryway.

1/2 J

Claim

<Chapter 106-+-

Locke’s gaze finds mine instantly across the open-plan living room. He looks tired – there’s a faint tension around his eyes from whatever grim business he and Cobra have been settling down at the warehouse but the moment he takes in the scene, the edge melts right off him.

The smile that touches the corners of his sinful, lush mouth is small. Private. Mine.

Beside him, Mayhem cracks a slow, wicked grin, leaning his heavy shoulder against the wall as he twists the caps off a beer with his bare hands. He hands it to Locke, then pops his own open.

“Well, well,” Mayhem rumbles, taking a long, slow swig of his beer. “Look at the night shift.”

“Are you two… dancing?” Locke asks, his voice low and amused. “Is that what this is?”

“We’re executing a strategic physical release!” Jade announcès, attempting to curtsy and failing so badly she has to grab a floor lamp for ballast. “Where have you boys been? You missed the crab rangoon. Zara

ate seven.”

“Six,” I correct loudly, taking a step toward Locke before remembering I’m mid-song and spinning right back around. “Only six!”

Instead of shutting it down, Locke just leans his lower back against the kitchen island, resting his beer bottle on his thigh. He takes a slow drink, his gray, exhausted eyes tracking my every movement with a quiet, lingering warmth.

Across the room, Mayhem sinks into the corner of the leather sofa, crossing his heavy boots at the ankles, letting out a deep, long-overdue sigh as he watches Jade dance.

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