The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 405

Chapter 199-1

The car’s transmission grinds in protest as Willow jams the gear shift into park, the tires skidding to a brutal stop across the crushed gravel of the clubhouse driveway.

Outside, the sleet has turned into a relentless, icy downpour, hammering against the windshield in thick sheets. Through the water–streaked glass, the sprawling timber–and–steel facade of the Grinning Skulls clubhouse looms out of the dark, a lit fortress vibrating with raw, kinetic tension.

Warm, amber light spills from every lower window, cutting through the storm, illuminating the long line of heavy motorcycles parked outside, their chrome catching the rain like scattered

teeth.

“We’re here, Zara,” Willow says, her knuckles white on the wheel. Her breathing is shallow, “We made it.”

“I don’t know if my legs work,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as the adrenaline carrying me completely evaporates. “Maybe we should have gone to the hospital.”

My face throbs with a dull, sickening ache, my wrists burn red from plastic zip–ties, and my denim jeans are soaked stiff and heavy with Knox’s blood.

“Your legs don’t have to work,” Willow says fiercely, undoing her seatbelt with a sharp snap. “I brought you out of that hell, and I am not letting you collapse in the dirt ten feet from safety. On top of that, you need to see Locke and your Dad and brother now. Lean on me. We walk in together.”

She throws her door open, stepping out into the freezing storm. She comes around to my side, opens my door and pulls me out. My boots hit the wet stone, and my knees instantly give out, sending a sharp spike of pain through my bruised ribs.

But Willow hitches her shoulder firmly beneath my armpit, bearing most of my weight as we take our first brutal steps toward the doors.

We haul ourselves up the steps, our boots splashing through freezing puddles, the heavy rain washing faint pink streaks down my arms. Willow drags me across the covered wood, stops right at the threshold, and raises her boot, kicking the massive oak door with everything she

has left.

BANG.

“Open the fucking door!” she screams into the storm, her voice piercing the roar of the wind. Zara needs help!”

Chapter 199 1

“I didn’t know you could swear,” I mutter. “It’s weird to hear it.”

“Well, I save it up for special occasions. This feels like one of them.”

“I know that’s fucking right.”

426 Powta

Inside, the heavy iron bolt snaps back with a sharp, metallic click. The double doors are violently thrown inward.

Warm, blinding light floods over us, and the room comes to an absolute, dead standstill.

Thirty patched members stand packed into the main hall, weapons drawn, faces set in terrifying masks of rage, ready for a war to raze the city to find me. Dad stands near the center table, his towering frame unyielding, and Mayhem holds a tactical shotgun low across his chest, his eyes wild and bloodshot.

And in the center of it all, standing right in front of the open doorway, is Locke.

He looks feral – his hair damp with sweat, his leather vest unbuttoned over a black t–shirt, his broad chest heaving as if he’s run ten miles through the brush. His sidearm hits the floorboards with a heavy clatter, completely forgotten.

–

For one second, time completely stops. They see Willow a stranger to most of the men here, and someone untrustworthy to those who do know her – standing drenched in the doorway, literally holding up the battered, bleeding President’s daughter.

“Zara!” Locke roars, a guttural sound of pure agony, as he rushes to us. “Jesus Christ…”

My knees give out completely. Locke catches me before I touch the ground, scooping me up into his massive arms, dropping to his knees, and pulling my limp body firmly into his lap.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, baby,” he says, his huge, trembling hands framing my face with desperate tenderness. His gray eyes sweep frantically over my split lip, my bruised face, and the dark, stiff crimson soaking my jeans. “Who did this? Was it Knox?”

Comments

LUCK DRAW >

Vote

2.2K

Chapty 199-2

+25 Points

Chapter 199-2

“Locke… it’s over,” I say, feeling hysteria start. “Knox is dead. Vane shot him. Willow got me here, Locke. She got the knife… she cut me free.”

Despite me making very little sense, Locke looks up from me, his gaze shifting to Willow. The violent rage in his posture softens into something else. He nods once, a heavy, profound gesture of absolute gratitude.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, Willow.”

“Get Stitch out here now!” Cobra roars across the hall, his voice booming over the storm. “Clear the sofa! Move!”

“Zara, quiet,” Willow says from her chair across the hearth. “I’m fine. Let him look at you.”

“Willow’s right,” Stitch insists, gently inspecting my split lip and raw, welted wrists. “Pupils are equal and reactive. No severe concussion. Lip needs a stitch or two, but it can wait.”

“The blood isn’t mine, Locke,” I say. “It’s Knox’s. He took two rounds to the chest from Vane. I was kneeling next to him when he died.”

“No,” Stitch cuts him off cleanly. “She needs stabilization on the way. Call the rig. Now.”

Locke pulls his phone from his pocket, dialing 911, giving concise details to the dispatcher before snapping it shut. He drops back down to his knees, pressing his lips firmly to my knuckles.

“They’re coming, baby. I’m staying right beside you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Across the hearth, the chaos of the hall settles into a heavy, quiet rhythm.

Dad stands near the roaring fire, his massive arms crossed over his chest, watching Mayhem sit down on the hearth edge right beside Willow’s chair, talking to her softly.

Dad walks over slowly, his heavy boots echoing on the timber. He pulls a heavy crystal decanter from the side table, pouring a generous splash of dark amber liquor into a fresh glass, holding it out to Willow.

“You’ve had a long road back, girl,” he says, his deep voice carrying a rare, quiet warmth. “Have a drink with your father and brother.”

Willow looks at the glass, then over at Mayhem, who gives her a quiet, approving nod. She reaches out, her hand trembling slightly as she takes it. “I’d like that, Cobra.”

“Dad.”

“Dad.”

Outside, the rising wail of an approaching ambulance siren cuts through the heavy pounding of the storm. Locke wraps his broad arm securely around my shoulders as the emergency lights sweep across the high timber windows.

“It’s over, Zara,” Locke says quietly as Rook and Big Mac swing the front doors open to admit the paramedics. “We’re going to get you checked out, and then we’re going home.”

213

Chapter 199-2

“And we can sleep?”

“For a hundred years,” he promises. “At least.”

H

2.2K

Comments

LUCK DRAW >

Vote