The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 309

Clath

Chapter 151-2

“I know he is,” I say, the reassurance hitting me right where it needs to. “I trust him. I just… I miss him when the apartment gets this quiet.”

“That’s natural,” Dad says, leaning his elbows on the table, his big, scarred hands loosely clasped. “A good man makes his absence felt. But he’s doing what needs to be done so when he comes through that door, you two can actually breathe.” He pauses, studying my face carefully. “How are you holding up otherwise? Really holding up? Your energy feels different tonight.”

“It is different,” I say, resting my chin in my hand as I look at him. “My appetite is back. And my final panels are in eight days, Dad. The clinic called to confirm the appointment yesterday.”

Dad’s posture shifts instantly. The heavy, protective tension he’s carried in his shoulders for months seems to ease by a fraction. He teaches across the white linen, laying his massive palm flat over my hand, squeezing gently.

“Eight days,” he repeats. “We’re almost at the finish line, sweetheart. If Locke isn’t back from his dark run by then, I’m taking you myself. I’ll sit in that waiting room with you for as long as it takes.”

“Thank you, Dad,” I say, my heart swelling. “That means the world to me.”

We sit with that for a moment, the quiet weight of survival hanging between us like a shield. I take a sip of wine, before leaning in slightly. There’s another subject resting between us, one that’s been heavy on my mind since Jade came to my door.

“How are things with Mayhem?” I ask.

Dad doesn’t flinch, but his eyes darken slightly, a deep, tired crease forming between his brows. He slowly pulls his hand back, picking up his wine glass and taking a long drink before setting it down with a deliberate thunk against the wood.

“Word travels fast,” Dad mutters. “Damn bikers love their gossip.”

“It was actually Jade who told me, when she came over the other morning,” I say. “She was out of her mind with worry, Dad. She loves him, but she said he was tearing the house down because of your call on Knox’s third chemical truck.”

Dad lets out a low, rough sigh, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a thick hand over his face. “Mayhem was out of his head, Zara. He wanted blood. He wanted to take a full assault team and hit that third convoy on the state highway. He thought I was backing down. Thought I was getting soft in my old age and letting Knox walk away from a fight.”

“Jade agreed with you,” I tell him. “She knew it was a trap and a mistake. She just couldn’t tell him without him taking it as disloyalty.”

Dad nods slowly. “I know. Jade’s got a damn good head on her shoulders. She sees the whole board. Mayhem… Mayhem leads with his heart and his fists.”

“So how did you two fix it? Because last I heard, he was ready to put boots on Knox’s neck single-handedly.”

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Chapter 151

“We had it out. Two nights ago in the back office behind locked doors.”

“A shouting match?”

Claim

“Understatement of the year Dad chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “He screamed until his vocal cords were raw. Accused me of stalling, accused me of playing politics while Knox was still breathing.”

I wince slightly, imagining the sheer explosive energy of two heavy, prideful men locking horns in a tight room. “And what did you do?”

“I let him blow,” Dad says simply. “I sat there and let my son scream at me until he ran out of air. And then I stood up, walked around that desk, grabbed him by the scruff of the fucking neck, and made him sit his ass down.”

He pauses, taking a slow breath, his chest expanding.

六

“I reminded him of who he is,” Dad says, his voice thick with raw, paternal authority. “I looked him in the eye and reminded him that he’s the Vice President of this club. When I step down, this cut belongs to him. The whole patch falls on his shoulders.”

“True.”

“And I told him straight: if he wants to lead this brotherhood, he needs to start making decisions for the good of the club, not to make himself feel better or to feed his own ego and emotions.”

“How did he take that?”

“It smashed him right in the goddamn chest,” Dad says, a soft, proud warmth breaking through his hard exterior. “After all the fucking yelling stopped, we sat there in the quiet and had a real, frank discussion.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I broke down the board for him, why hitting that third truck was a trap, why holding our ground keeps our brothers alive. And Mayhem… he actually listened, Zara. He really sat there, absorbed it, and got it. The ego washed right out of him.”

I smile, a lump forming in my throat. Mayhem is volatile, fiercely loyal, and completely consumed by his love for this family and the club. Knowing he and my father found their way back through the storm makes the room feel warmer.

“He’s going to make a damn fine President when the time comes,” Dad says. “He just needs to learn the difference between being a soldier and being a leader. But we’re good now. He’s back on track, and he’s holding Jade tight.”

“I’m glad, Dad,” I say, reaching across the table to touch his sleeve. “I really am.”

Dad smiles, patting my hand before looking down at our empty plates. “Now, enough about club politics. You cooked, so you sit right there while I take care of these dishes.”

Before I can even open my mouth to protest, Dad stands up and begins stacking the heavy ceramic bowls and crystal glasses with practiced ease. It’s a rare sight – the President of a motorcycle club rolling up his sleeves in a luxury high-rise kitchen – but watching him clear the table feels deeply comforting.

I lean back in my chair, sipping my wine, watching him carry the dishes over to the sink.

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