The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 400

Chapter 196-1

+25 Points

The thunderous crash of the loading doors collapsing inward rattles the rusted iron girders

above us.

My heart leaps into my throat, a fierce, sudden rush of relief flooding through my veins.

Locke?!

My father must have mobilized the club, and Locke led the charge to rip this warehouse off its foundations and bring me home. I set my jaw, ready to watch him tear Knox apart.

Beside me, Knox scrambles backward, his sidearm half–drawn. In the corner, Willow curls into a tight, terrified ball, her hands over her ears.

“Get ready!” Knox screams at his hired guards, his voice cracking hysterically. “Shoot anyone who steps through that door!”

I keep my eyes pinned on the clearing smoke, waiting for the roar of familiar voices, the flash of leather vests, and the heavy leather boots of the Grinning Skulls tearing into the room.

Footsteps cut through the settling dust.

My brow furrows in confusion and dismay.

There’s no haste, no rush. No heavy surge of an angry motorcycle club breaching a hideout. No boots on the ground, no shouts between brothers.

These steps are measured. Precise. Soft leather soles moving over broken concrete with deliberate, unhurried grace. There’s silence and in that silence, there’s a threat.

Through the haze, five silhouettes emerge.

Four men move in a disciplined perimeter, but they aren’t wearing denim, or leather patches, or cuts. They’re dressed in dark, impeccably tailored three–piece suits, their ties straight, their white collars pristine against the industrial grime.

In their gloved hands, short–barreled suppressed submachine guns are held with effortless, deadly precision, sweeping the room without a word spoken.

Walking slowly in the center of the group is a man who looks as though he stepped straight out of a high–end financial firm in London or Geneva. I blink several times, trying to place him – and then I realize that I’ve seen his photo.

My mind reels in absolute shock. It isn’t Locke. It isn’t my father. The MC isn’t here at all.

Chapter 196-1

Sebastian Vane.

+26 Points

Vane wears a charcoal–grey wool coat over his crisp suit, looking utterly immaculate despite the concrete dust settling around his feet. His silvered hair is slicked back neatly, his jaw sharp, clean–shaven, and completely relaxed.

Thwack–thwack.

The sound is absurdly quiet, a soft, pneumatic cough from the guard on Vane’s left.

Thwack–thwack.

He stops six feet away, his expression settling into a look of genuine, cultured distaste as he studies the split skin on my lip, the bruises, the red welts around my wrists.

“My goodness,” Vane says softly. “You’ve clearly been subjected to the clumsy antics of a

coward.”

duter 1961

+25 Points

His voice is smooth, low, and perfectly modulated, carrying a quiet, refined precision. He speaks at a conversational volume, yet every person in the room strains to hear him.

Comments

LUCK DRAW >

Vote

2.2K

Chapt