The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 442

Chapter 217-2

“Shh, sweet girl,” I whisper, holding a finger to my lips. “Don’t wake him up, okay?”

+25 Pontu

She tilts her head, her tail stilling as she watches me pull on a thick, oversized knit cardigan hanging over the back of the vanity chair. I slide my feet into my sheepskin slippers, gently smoothing a hand over Xena’s soft, dense coat.

She leans into the touch, her warm body pressing against my shin as she follows at my heel like a phantom when I ease the bedroom door open and slip out into the hall, leaving Locke to his well-earned

rest.

Xena pads softly behind me as I walk into the kitchen.

I don’t turn on the bright overhead lights; the ambient glow of the city lights is more than enough to guide my way. I fill a small saucepan with milk, turn the stove burner on low, and scoop dark cocoa powder and a spoonful of raw honey into the pot.

The quiet hiss of the gas burner and the gentle, rhythmic clink of the whisk against the metal are the only sounds breaking the absolute silence of the apartment.

While the milk warms, I head into the sitting room and kneel down before the fireplace. With a quick flick of a match, the logs burst into life, casting a rich, amber glow across the dark leather sofas, the hardwood floors, and the rug. The heat radiates immediately, a welcome barrier against the early-morning draft clinging to the large glass windows.

Xena immediately trots over, circling twice before flopping down onto the rug right beside the hearth with a heavy, contented sigh. She rests her snout on her front paws, her dark, intelligent eyes tracking me as I return to the kitchen to pour the steaming hot chocolate into my favorite heavy mug.

Wrapping both hands tightly around the warmth, letting the heat seep into my chilled palms, I walk back to the fireplace and sink deep into the plush armchair beside Xena’s spot on the rug. I pull my legs up, tucking my feet beneath my cardigan as I stare into the dancing orange flames.

The heat washes over my face, but my thoughts drift straight back to yesterday morning, back into the cold, stark reality of the clubhouse office. To Jade’s masterboards, the maps, the flowcharts, and the weight of the legal deeds resting on the counter.

I own Knox McVale’s entire estate.

On paper, it’s a total administrative victory: we hold the key to their entire infrastructure.

But paper doesn’t stop bullets, and paper doesn’t keep a psychopath from burning the world down around

you.

My chest tightens as I think about how different things ought to be right now.

By rights, Cain Morgan should be sitting in the Night Howlers’ MC president chair right now. Cain was Knox’s Vice President for over seven years. If the natural order of the club had been followed after Knox died, Cain would have stepped up smoothly, assumed the patch.

If Cain were running things, I would be sleeping soundly in Locke’s arms right now instead of shivering by a

<Chapter 2174

fireplace at four in the morning.

I

Over the years I spent trapped in Knox’s shadow, I got to know Cain. He was surprisingly patient, sharp-minded, and exceptionally calm for a high-ranking MC officer.

+25 Ponto

Knox listened to him, even if he hated doing it, because Cain had earned every inch of his rank through years of keeping the club profitable and clean from sloppy mistakes. Cain had a way of speaking in a low, level tone that instantly grounded the entire room, making even the rowdiest full-patch members shut up

and listen.

My mind drifts back to a night years ago, to a loud, suffocating party at the Howlers clubhouse:

Knox had spent the entire evening openly parading Becca through the crowd, completely ignoring me while I stood pressed against the back wall in an expensive dress I hated, feeling utterly humiliated and invisible.

The humiliation had burned like acid in my throat, but I couldn’t leave, couldn’t cry, and couldn’t say a word without risking Knox’s fury later.

I remember holding a glass of club soda so tight I thought the glass would shatter in my hand, staring at the floorboards, counting the knots in the wood just to keep from throwing up.

The noise in the room had been deafening – hard rock blasting from speakers, men shouting, laughter bouncing off wood paneling, women shrieking across the room – and every laugh felt like it was at my

expense.

I’d stepped out onto the quiet back porch just to catch my breath, the cool night air hitting my feverish skin, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

A moment later, the heavy screen door had creaked open, and Cain had stepped out into the night. He hadn’t hit on me; he’d never crossed that line, not even once.

He had simply walked over to the wooden railing, lit a cigarette, and blown a long stream of smoke into the cool air. The silence between us had been thick, heavy with everything we knew Knox was doing inside.

“He’s a damn fool, Zara,” Cain had said quietly. He hadn’t turned his head, he’d just kept staring out into the dark yard. “He thinks power means tearing down the things that support him… but some of us see you standing there, catching and then holding the weight he drops. Don’t let his noise, make you forget how strong you are.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify