The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 231

Chapter 117-3

He closes his fingers around mine instantly, holding on like a drowning man grabbing a line.

“I sat in the car with Jade today, and we talked about it,” I say. “I know why Dad barked. I know why you went quiet. I knew it this morning, even when I was mad enough to bash a wrench over your head.”

Clam

A small, genuine breath of relief escapes Locke’s chest, his shoulders dropping two inches as the tension drains out of him.

“I’m sorry too, Locke,” I say, looking up into his tired face. “I shouldn’t have thrown the ‘partner’ card in your face. I know the position you’re in. I know you have to answer to my Dad when the patch is on, and I know you’re trying to keep a full-scale slaughter from landing on our doorstep.”

“You had every right to be furious,” he says, his thumb tracing a slow, soothing circle over the back of my hand. “I was a prick.”

“You were a caveman,” I correct him gently. “A stubborn, heavy-handed, know-it-all one, to boot.”

“Accurate,” Locke murmurs, a shadow of his real smile finally breaking through the dark stubble on his face. “Mayhem got the same treatment from Jade?”

“Worse,” I say. “She almost threw a beer mug at his head at the club today.”

Locke lets out a low, gravelly chuckle, the first real sound of warmth to echo through the penthouse all night.

He shifts his weight, pulling on my hand gently until I move across the remaining cushion, sliding right into his space. He wraps his other arm around my waist, lifting me effortlessly against his chest.

I let out a long sigh, burying my face in the warm crook of his neck. His arms tighten around me, holding me flush against his ribs so firmly I can feel the heavy, steady rhythm of his heart beating against my cheek.

“We’re going to get through this,” he whispers into my hair, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss against my temple. “Knox doesn’t know it was us. We’re keeping it quiet, we’re keeping it clean, and we’re keeping the wall up.”

“Just… talk to me next time,” I say, pulling my head back just enough to look up into his face. “Don’t lock me behind a door without telling me why. I’m not fragile, Locke. I can handle the truth. What I can’t handle is the dark. I know you can’t tell me everything, but… tell me what you can.”

“No more dark,” he promises, his voice dropping into a low, rough murmur. “I give you my word, Zara. No more shutting you out. I share whatever I’m able to.”

“And I accept that. I promise. No more freak-outs because I’m not in the inner circle – that’s not my place, Locke, and I do know that.”

He reaches up with his free hand, his thick fingers cupping the side of my jaw, his thumb gently brushing over my lower lip. The touch is warm, solid, and entirely alive.

The lingering ghosts of the dark comms, the blood on the rug, and the cold morning melt away into the quiet heat of the room.

1/2

Chapter 11-

Hilt my face up to his, closing the tiny distance left between us.

Claim

When his mouth meets mine, it’s not gentle at first: it’s deep, needy, and heavy with the sheer, overwhelming relief of surviving another night. His grip on my waist tightens, pulling me closer until there isn’t a sliver of air left between us, his tongue tracing my lips.

I open for him, letting the kiss consume everything that was broken between us, rebuilding the bridge brick by brick in the dark.

7

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