The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 406

Chapter 199 2

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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!”

Locke doesn’t wait for anyone. He slides one arm beneath my knees and the other around my back, lifting me effortlessly against his chest, carrying me through the bar to the heavy sofa near the roaring stone fireplace.

He sets me down gently, dropping right back to his knees on the rug, his large hands resting securely on my stomach, refusing to break contact for even a second.

Stitch hurries through the side door carrying his black leather bag. He drops to a crouch beside Locke, opening his kit.

“Let’s take a look at you, girl,” Stitch says, reaching out to gently tilt my chin up. “You’ve been through it, huh?”

“Not just me,” I choke out, looking over to see Mayhem wrapping a heavy wool blanket around Willow’s shivering shoulders. “Check Willow too.”

“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.”

Locke’s jaw clenches as his eyes flick to the dark blood covering my knees.

“What about all the blood?” he demands in a harsh, frantic whisper. “Stitch, look at her jeans. Is she is the baby okay?”

“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.”

Stitch presses his hands firm and steady over my lower abdomen, feeling the muscle tension and checking my pulse, his brow furrowing deeply. The calm efficiency in his posture

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Chapter 199-2

sharpens into dead seriousness. He looks up at Locke.

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“She’s in severe physiological shock, Locke,” Stitch says, leaving no room for argument. “Her pulse is skyrocketing, her temp is dropping fast, and given the trauma and the pregnancy, we can’t risk keeping her here in the clubhouse. She needs an IV, fetal monitoring, and a proper facility.”

“What -”

“Locke, call an ambulance,” Stitch says. “We need paramedics on site.”

“I’ll drive her myself -”

“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.”

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Chapter 199 2

“And we can sleep?”

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

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