The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 205

Chapter 107-2

Standing in the middle of the kitchen are Locke and Mayhem.

They’re both showered, shaved, and fully dressed in their leather cuts, looking entirely unaffected by the late hour they went to bed. Locke is standing by the stove, flipping bacon in a heavy cast-iron skillet, while Mayhem leans against the counter, drinking a massive mug of black coffee and looking far too pleased with himself.

The moment our sock-clad feet swish against the floor, both men turn.

Mayhem takes one look at our identical, oversized shirts, wild hair, and dark sunglasses indoors, and sets his coffee mug down so hard it sloshes over the rim. A deep, rumbling laugh starts in his chest.

“Look at this,” Mayhem says, shaking his head. “The survivors have surfaced.”

Locke doesn’t even bother to hide his smile. He sets his spatula down, resting his broad hands on the edge of the counter as his eyes sweep over me.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Do not speak at that volume,” I say, slumping onto the nearest barstool. “Your voice is vibrating directly into my brain.”

Jade collapses onto the stool beside me, resting her forehead on the marble surface with a dramatic, low groan. “I need medical intervention. I need a drip. I need intravenous saline, four hundred milligrams of ibuprofen, and a blindfold. Maybe a bullet to the head, I haven’t decided yet.”

“Best I can do is black coffee and bacon, babe,” Mayhem says, stepping around the island. He walks over to Jade, reaching out with one massive, calloused hand to gently tap the top of her oversized sunglasses. “You okay down there, wife of mine?”

“I’m dead,” Jade says. “Please show some respect for the deceased and stop talking.”

“You were pretty active last night,” Mayhem rumbles, leaning down so his mouth is right by her ear. “Something about a high-impact jazz split?”

Jade twitches, but doesn’t lift her head. “I’m revoking your speaking privileges.”

Locke walks over, holding two large ceramic mugs filled with steaming black coffee. He sets one in front of Jade and slides the other carefully into my hands.

“Hold that,” Locke says softly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Careful, it’s hot.”

I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the steam rise up toward my face, though I refuse to take off my sunglasses. I take a tiny, tentative sip, and the hot, dark liquid feels like absolute nectar.

“Thank you,” I sigh, leaning my shoulder against his arm as he stands beside my stool. “You’re a merciful god.”

“I’m a man who warned you that five margaritas made with ninety-proof silver tequila was a bad idea,” Locke points out, reaching down to tuck a stray, wild lock of hair behind my ear.

Chapter 102-

Clam

“It was five?” Jade asks, her voice muffled against the island. “I thought we stopped counting at three.”

“You stopped counting,” Mayhem chuckles, walking back to the stove to steal a strip of bacon right out of the skillet. “Zara was still attempting to do the math while upside down over Locke’s shoulder.”

“I was making a point,” I defend myself, keeping my eyes fixed on my coffee. “And my math was sound.”

“Your math was terrible,” Locke says. “You told me you had precisely the correct amount.”

“And I stood by it,” I say. “Until approximately seven minutes ago.”

Mayhem leans against the counter across from us, crunching loudly on the bacon. The sound is sharp, crisp, and terrifyingly amplified in the quiet kitchen.

Jade winces, lifting her head just enough to glare at him through her dark lenses. “Must you chew so aggressively? It sounds like bone snapping.”

“It’s bacon, babe,” Mayhem says, grinning wicked and wide. “You want some? It’s full of fat and salt. Might revive you.”

“If I attempt to eat solid food right now, my stomach will turn inside-out,” Jade says, though she reaches out a blind, cautious hand toward the plate of bacon Locke just set down. She snatches a strip, and takes a tiny bite. “Okay, fine. It’s helpful. But I’m still angry with you.”

“For what?” Mayhem asks, crossing his arms over his leather-clad chest. “I carried you to bed.”

“You carried me like a laundry basket!” Jade protests, her voice rising half an octave before she immediately winces and clutches her head. “Ow. Why am I shouting? You showed no delicacy. No chivalry.

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