The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 230

Chapter 117-2

“I handled last night wrong, Locke says quietly, not looking up. “This morning, too.”

I lift my chin, watching the line of his profile in the dark. “Which part, handsome?”

Clain

A faint, tired tug pulls at the corner of his mouth, though there’s no humor in it. “The part where I let Cobra talk to you like you were just a liability. The part where I stood there like a goddamn statue and let you drive away feeling like you didn’t mean anything

He turns his head, his eyes fixing on mine. The shadow in them is raw, exposed, and completely stripped of the MC mask he’d worn in the kitchen earlier.

“I’m sorry for how I said it, Zara,” he says, his voice thick and steady. “I’m sorry I let it sound like you were less than. I’m sorry I let you walk away thinking I didn’t see you.”

The knot in my chest, the one that’s been burning since six o’clock this morning, begins to loosen, just a fraction, but I keep my voice steady:

“You sounded like you were managing a prospect, Locke. You didn’t look at me like your partner. You looked at me like a problem that needed to be put in a box.”

Locke winces, a subtle flinch that goes right through his broad shoulders. He reaches up, running a heavy, calloused hand over his face, dragging it down his jaw with a rasping sound.

“I know,” he says. “And that’s on me. I was running on empty, my adrenaline was through the roof, and I was so fucking terrified from the night that I couldn’t think straight.”

I hold his gaze, letting the word hang between us. “Terrified?”

“Terrified,” he repeats without hesitation. He turns his body fully toward me on the sofa, closing one cushion’s worth of distance, though he still doesn’t touch me. “Utterly and completely.”

I soften, turn towards him too.

“Zara, you have to understand something. What you did, mapping out Knox’s shipping routes, cross-referencing those manifest number, and everything from memory,… Jesus, girl, you’re fucking brillian t. You saved us months of blind hunting. Maybe years, I think.”

He leans forward, his gaze burning into mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch in my throat.

“I am so proud of you,” he says, the words coming out rough, deep, and completely unfiltered. “I’m grateful for what you did. I respect your mind, I respect your strength, and I sure as hell respect the fact that you grew up in this world and know how to hold your own.”

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly feeling very tight. “Then why push me out?”

“Because knowing how the world works doesn’t mean you belong in the crossfire,” Locke says softly. “I love you, baby.”

The words hit me like a physical wave: warm, heavy, and absolute. It isn’t the first time he’s said it, but hearing it right now, in the middle of the dark, carries a weight that knocks the rest of my pride flat.

121

Chapter 1

Claim

Hove you so much it scares me sometimes,” Locke says. “When those comms went dark on Old County Road… when the first rounds started coming through the trees… I wasn’t thinking about the chemicals. I wasn’t thinking about Cobra, or the club, or the patch on my back. I was thinking that if Knox found out who laid the trap, he’d come straight for this building. He’d come for you.”

He reaches out, his large, warm hand bridging the remaining distance between us, resting gently on the cushion inches from my leg, palm up A silent offering.

I look down at his open palm. The skin is rough, calloused, and stained with faint traces of dirt around the knuckles. It’s the hand of a man who builds, who fights, and who carries more weight than he ever lets on.

“I know,” I whisper.

Locke blinks, taken aback. “What?”

“I know,” I say again, moving closer to him on the cushions. I reach out and slide my fingers into his open palm, lacing my small hand with his large, heavy one. “I do know.”

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