The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 226

Chapter 116-1

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The heavy steel gate at the perimeter of the garage lot slides closed behind us, and I punch the accelerator. The morning sky over the city is a dull, bruised purple, heavy with snow that’s just starting.

For the first three blocks, neither of us speaks; I think we’re both just exhausted and wrung out from the past few days, and definitely from last night. The only sound is the deep hum of the engine and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers clearing the light snowflakes off the glass.

“Unbelievable,” Jade sputters suddenly, her voice cracking the heavy silence like a whip. “Just… fucking un believable!”

I glance at her sideways, taking a hard right turn onto the highway on-ramp. “I take it Mayhem gave you the exact same speech that I got from Locke?”

“Well, let’s see, huh? Compare notes?” Jade says. “He sat on the edge of the bed looking like a damn stone wall, telling me I need to ‘understand how the MC works. As if I’m an idiot, right? As if I haven’t been working behind their bar, and watching them run this town for years. As if I haven’t married into it.”

“Uh-huh, yep. Word for word, pretty much,” I say, my grip tightening on the leather steering wheel until my knuckles go numb. “Then Locke hit me with the ‘you know the rules because you were raised in the MC’ routine. Reminded me that Dad sets the line, and when the patch takes over, women sit in the corner, don’t ask questions, and keep their mouths shut.”

“God, they are such patronizing, arrogant assholes!” Jade slams her palm against the dashboard, the dull thud echoing through the SUV. “You mapped out Knox’s entire logistics chain, Zara. You sat in that office with Locke for weeks straight analyzing precursor shipping manifests. You did more work than anybody to bring down Knox.”

“I know,” I say, the bitter heat rising in my chest again, making my throat feel tight and raw. “That’s what gets me the most. They’re more than happy to lean on us when they need our brains, but the second things get bloody, they turn into neanderthals.”

“And Mayhem,” Jade continues, bright red spots of furious color flushing her cheeks. “He stands there in the kitchen looking all brooding and tortured, treating me like (‘m some fragile little doll that’s going to break if I hear the word ‘gunshot.”

“Right?”

“I watched Stitch pull three inches of lead out of Bishop’s thigh on the rug last night… I handed him the damned gauze! But the second the blood is dry, suddenly I’m just a fucking waitress who isn’t allowed to ask what happens next?”

“They talked to us like we were children,” I mutter, changing lanes with a sharp jerk of the wheel. “That’s what really pisses me off. Not even just the secrecy… it’s the condescension. Locke looked at me like I was a ten-year-old asking why I couldn’t play in the street.”

“Exactly!” Jade says, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Mayhem literally patted my arm. Patted it. Li ke, ‘There, there, little girl, let the big bad bikers handle the scary stuff. I swear to God, I wanted to take his heavy leather cut and shove it down his throat.”

For a few miles, we just ride the wave of our mutual outrage. We dissect every single word Dad barked in

12

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the living room, every cold look Locke gave me, and every infuriating dismissal Mayhem threw at Jade.

It feels good to say it out loud, to let the anger burn through the lingering horror of the dark comms and the blood on the living room rug.

“I’m not just sweeping this under the rug,” Jade mutters after a long stretch. “He talks to me like that again, and I’m finding my own damn apartment. I mean it, Zara. I’m not playing house with a guy who treats me like an outsider when things get tense.”

“I get it,” I say quietly. “Locke wants to act like the money guy first and my partner second? Fine. He can carry that weight by himself today.”

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