The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 422

Chapter 206-2

I reach out, squeezing Willow’s hand tightly. “He looked after you because you matter to him, Willow. Stitch doesn’t waste his time or make lavender tea on just anyone.”

“He’d better not,” Jade mutters, though a soft, genuine smile breaks through her tough exterior. “If that grumpy old butcher hurts you, I’ll personally spike his coffee with Xena’s drool.”

Willow laughs, a bright, musical sound that fills the penthouse living room. “Thank you, Jade. But I don’t think he will.”

We lapse into a comfortable, easy silence for a few minutes. Xena finally gives up on her chew toy, crawling onto the edge of Willow’s dress and flopping her heavy head directly across her ankles, fast asleep. Willow strokes her dark fur with gentle, rhythmic motions.

Jade turns to me, her green eyes growing serious as she looks at the bruises on my face and the white bandages peeking out from my sleeves.

“You really scared us, you know, Zara,” Jade says quietly, her usual sarcastic guard entirely gone. “When Knox took you, when the clubhouse went on lockdown… I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless.”

“Me too,” Willow says softly. “When I saw you zip–tied to that chair, I was terrified.”

I feel sudden tightness in my throat, and I look between the two of them.

Being married to Knox, isolated and constantly walking on eggshells, I spent years believing that I was entirely on my own. That if I disappeared, the world would just keep right on spinning without a single ripple. Looking at Jade and Willow now, I realize how wrong I was.

“I wasn’t alone, though,” I say. “Even in that warehouse… when Knox was mocking me, when he and Becca were hitting me, when everything felt dark… I knew Locke was coming. I knew my father was coming. And I knew you guys were waiting for me.”

“Damn right we were,” Jade says fiercely, leaning over to wrap her arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a tight, warm hug, careful not to press against my bruised ribs. “Hell itself couldn’t have stopped us.”

Willow leans in from the other side, wrapping her arms around both of us, her floral scent of

jasmine and rose enveloping us completely.

“You’re ours, Zara,” Jade says. “You’re a Skull. You’re family. Nobody gets to touch you ever again.”

“You’re rooted here,” Willow adds. “Safe, protected, and thoroughly loved.”

“Thank you.” I swallow past the knot in my throat, my heart swelling so full it aches. “Both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, for starters, you’d be forced to drink regular tap water instead of my moon–charged rose essence,” Willow points out with a serene, completely serious nod. “So that’s something.

Jade giggles, breaking the emotional spell instantly. “And your wardrobe would be ninety percent oversized gray sweatpants. You need me for fashion intervention alone, Zara.”

“Hey,” I protest. “My sweatpants are comfortable.”

“Comfortable doesn’t get you laid by an MC guy,” Jade shoots back. “Though, considering you’re already pregnant, I guess the sweatpants aren’t slowing him down much.”

“Jade!” Willow gasps softly, fanning her face. “The cosmic energy of the unborn child can hear your crassness!”

“The baby’s gonna grow up around thirty crude bikers, Willow. A little locker–room talk now is just early sensory training,” Jade counters. “Besides, we need to focus on real issues. Like how we’re going to sneak a bottle of organic oil into Stitch’s medical bag for him to give you a naked massage.”

“Right, right,” Jade says, kicking her legs out on the sofa as she laughs. “He was protecting the balance. Just wait until he tries to balance you on the examination table, Willow!”

Jade ducks, popping right back up with an outrageously bad impression of Stitch’s deep, gravelly voice. “Now sit still, Willow, I need to check your pulse in your delicate throat with my entire hand while staring into your ethereal soul.”

“You two are terrible,” Willow cries out from beneath the cushions, though her muffled laughter gives her away completely. “Absolute dark–energy menace women.”

“Especially then,” I add.

We spend the rest of the night piled together on the giant leather sofa, trading ridiculous stories, teasing Willow until she’s completely red, and feeding tiny bits of chicken and lamb to a thoroughly satisfied Xena.

When Locke and Mayhem finally return hours later, they walk into the penthouse to find the three of us draped across a mountain of pillows, covered in popcorn, half–asleep and still giggling over bad romance movie tropes.

Locke stops in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space, his eyes instantly finding mine. A slow, breathtaking smile breaks across his rugged face as he takes in the loud, messy, beautiful life filling his home.

I look up at him, my heart lighter than it’s been in years, surrounded by my sisters, my brother, my dog, and the man who loves me, who’s saved me, who’s the father of my baby.

I know now, in this moment, that I have everything that Knox wished for me in his final

seconds on earth:

You deserve to be loved, Zara. Truly loved. Deeply, safely, completely.

You deserve a man who looks at you like you’re the absolute center of the world, a man who builds a world with you instead of tearing it down around your ears.

And I am.

I have.