The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 273

Chapter 136-1

“Three years ago, Knox married you,” Locke says.

“Ah. Yes.”

Claim

“And at the exact same time, your Dad’s existing businesses – the garage, the construction company, the commercial real estate -‘were taking off in a massive way. The Skulls’ old accountant was retiring, and the club was suddenly sitting on high-stakes capital and multi-state operations that were way too complex for a standard bookkeeper.”

“I can see that.”

Locke traces a thumb along my knee.

“Cobra was under immense pressure. He needed a real expert. But more than that, having a man who understood and respected an MC’s moral code was mandatory. You can’t just hand those kinds of books over to a faceless suit from a firm.”

“So Dad found you?” I ask. “How?”

“Rook walked right into Cobra’s office,” Locke says. “He told Cobra that he knew the exact man, said that I was the real deal. Rook vouched for me, one hundred percent.”

“And Dad reached out to you?”

“Cobra flew out to meet me in Washington the next day,” Locke says. “He laid every single piece of the club’s growth on the table.

Locke sets his coffee mug down on the hardwood floor.

“I joined the Skulls three years,” Locke says. “And for the first time in my career, my work actually protected real people instead of feeding a corrupt machine.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, fascinated.

“In the government, I was just a cog in a wheel that crushed human lives in the name of money. In the MC, I found a brotherhood where loyalty actually means something, where a man’s word is his bond, and where we protect our own, no matter what.”

He reaches up, his hand cradling the side of my face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear I hadn’t even realized had slipped down my cheek.

“Leaving the government saved my sanity and my soul, Zara,” Locke says. “Rook walking into your Dad’s office brought me to the Skulls three years ago. And the Skulls brought me right here… to you.”

I shift closer into Locke’s side, resting my head against his chest while the last embers of the fire glow in the hearth.

I run a finger along the hard line of his collarbone, tracing his tattoos, and a random thought pops into my

head.

“Okay, but wait a sec,” I say, sitting up slightly and looking at him with a mischievous tilt of my head. “How

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