The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 336

Chapter 164-2

ade, this is incredible,” I say, as the sweet, floral scent of the peonies wraps around me. “Thank

you.”

“Hey, don’t thank just me.” Jade gestures toward the sea of hulking men surrounding us. “The boys spent three hours setting this up this morning. Mac personally baked those cupcakes, and if you touch them before he takes a picture, he’ll cry.”

“I do not cry.” Big Mac’s deep, gruff voice booms out from behind the bar, his massive bearded face flushing slightly red under his leather cut. “I just care about presentation.”

The entire room breaks into a loud, thunderous roar of laughter.

I look around the room, completely overwhelmed by the sheer, unadulterated warmth pouring toward me. These are men who fight cartels, run tactical road missions, and command respect across three states… and right now, they’re standing around holding balloons and eating cupcakes.

Dad steps out from behind the bar, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards as he walks toward me. He looks down at the flower crown on my head, and wraps his broad arms around me, pulling me into a firm, grounding hug.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” he whispers against my hair, his voice rough and thick with fatherly pride. “Look at this room. You brought the whole damn club together.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Dad,” I whisper back, hugging him tight.

When he releases me, Bishop hobbles forward, his cane clicking rhythmically against the wood floor. He stops right in front of me, his harsh face softening. He reaches out a calloused hand, laying it flat against my shoulder.

“You’re the toughest motherfucker in this entire building, Zara,” he says. “Don’t ever let any of these assholes tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks, Bishop,” I smile, leaning in to give him a careful, respectful hug, mindful of his injured leg.

“It’s good to have you back.”

“Alright, move your asses!” Tucker shouts, pushing his way through the crowd with a huge, rectangular cardboard box wrapped in obnoxiously bright metallic paper and a red foil bow. “Gifts now, and we’ve got a pile of them to clear!”

The prospects, Trench and Spoon, follow right behind him, carrying a three-tiered custom cake that looks like it took a professional bakery twelve hours to construct.

The top tier is decorated like a classic motorcycle fuel tank, while the bottom tier is piped with

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Chapter 164-2

clear white frosting reading:

100% CLEAR. 100% UNSTOPPABLE.

+25 Ports

They set the box and the cake down on the long center table, and within seconds, the brothers crowd around like a pack of eager wolves.

“Open ours first!” Stitch calls from the back, leaning over Brick’s shoulder. “Me and Bear went in

together on it!”

I step up to the table, my hand resting casually over my lower stomach beneath my sweater, feeling the quiet, secret pulse of the life growing inside me. Looking out at this wall of fiercely loyal,

protective men, a sudden wave of emotion hits me like a freight train:

In a few weeks, we’re going to tell them about the baby.

And they’re going to lose their minds all over again, building cribs out of chrome, buying mini

leather vests, and guarding that child with their very lives.

I look up, catching Locke’s eyes in the crowd. He’s standing near the edge of the room, leaning back against the wooden support pillar with his broad arms crossed over his chest, watching me

with a look of pure adoration and pride. He gives me a slow, subtle nod, his thumb tracing a quiet

circle against his leather vest.

Our family, his eyes seem to say.

I rip open the bright red bow on the first box, letting out a loud, delighted laugh as the wrapping paper falls away to reveal a custom-built, heavy-duty leather riding jacket, complete with

reinforced shoulder pads and a hand-stitched silk lining in vibrant teal.

My fingers trace the bottom hem of the back leather panel, catching on intricate, dark silver

embroidery tucked right above the lower trim: 100% BADASS, stitched in sharp, sweeping gothic

I take a bite of the sweet treat, lean back into my chair, and let the warmth of the room wrap

around me like a shield.

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