The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 443

Chapter 218 1

Chapter 218-1

My stomach turned as I recall the conversation I had with Mayhem at the clubhouse yesterday when I’d asked him why Cain hadn’t taken the gavel.

Mayhem’s face had gone stone-cold.

“Cain never had a chance to call the vote,” Mayhem told me, his voice flat. “The night Knox died

before the blood was even dry on the floor, Grit Sterling made his move.”

“Which was what?”

“He didn’t do the honorable thing and challenge Cain at the table. He didn’t ask for a vote. He ambushed him in the alley behind the clubhouse with four of his loyalty-bought prospects.”

The story Mayhem then told me was pure nightmare fuel. Grit hadn’t just beaten the s**t out Cain,

he’d orchestrated a systematic m******e of the man’s dignity and body:

Grit and his four asshole buddies had caught Cain off guard while he was locking up the rear

doors. They dragged him into the enclosed, oil-stained mechanic’s bay, and tied him to a heavy

steel lift frame with tow straps.

Grit didn’t use a gun, or even a knife. He wanted it slow. He wanted every prospect in that room to

smell the fear and blood so they’d know what happened to anyone who questioned his rise.

Grit took a heavy iron breaker bar and systematically shattered both of Cain’s kneecaps, then his

hands and ribs, then his collarbone, before taking brass knuckles to his face. The mechanic’s bay

had been soundproofed with heavy rubber lining, ensuring Cain’s screams never reached the street

outside.

When Cain – covered in his own blood and gasping for air – still refused to yield the gavel or hand

over the club charter, Grit took a heavy lead pipe to the back of his skull.

They didn’t kill him. Death would have been a mercy, and Grit wanted a living warning left in the

corner: a broken shell of the man everyone thought would lead them.

Cain is currently lying in a room at St. Jude’s, hooked up to life support in a profound, deep coma. The doctors say the swelling in his brain is severe.

If he ever wakes up, he’ll likely never walk, speak, or recognize a face again. He’s trapped inside his own mind, a shadow of the sharp, patient strategist who used to keep Knox in check.

With Cain broken and silent, Grit just stepped over his body, laid his bloody pipe right on the center of the chapel table, and declared himself President.

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Chapter 218 1

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No one dared to challenge him.

Grit is a feral animal who has wiped out the only voice of reason in his club. He’s a man who feels

zero empathy, a man who gets off on terror and psychological torture.

Mayhem told me about an incident from two years ago where a rival prospect from a visiting chapter slighted Grit over something trivial at a roadside bar. Grit didn’t just beat the boy; he tracked down the prospect’s family, torched their vehicles in their driveway, and forced the kid to watch his entire life burn to ash before putting a bullet through his knee.

Grit Sterling is a monster. Pure, unadulterated, unhinged malice wrapped in leather and denim. And now, that very monster is running things. He has zero respect for the old ways, zero desire to maintain treaties, and a desperate point to prove to every chapter in the state.

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