The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 452

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Chapter 222-2

I don’t care about the freezing cold outside. I don’t care about where I’m going tomorrow. I

don’t care if Vane and his thugs come through that thin wooden door with guns in their

hands.

I don’t feel fear. I don’t feel a single shred of regret.

All I feel is a slow, boiling, incandescent rage.

And every single thread of that rage leads directly to Zara Callahan.

Zara – the f*****g outsider who didn’t even belong to the Night Howlers, the girl who walked into our world, dragged the Grinning Skulls in behind her, and destroyed everything Knox

worked to build.

I close my eyes, and all I see is Zara’s face.

Zara standing in the middle of the Night Howlers’ clubhouse with her dark hair, her soft, expensive clothes, and that quiet, untouchable composure.

Zara, who had walked away from Knox’s abuse and landed right on her feet in the lap of

luxury.

Zara has everything.

She has Cobra and Mayhem Callahan, both surrounding her like a wall of iron.

She has Locke Tanner – gorgeous, lethal, rich, and fiercely protective – wrapping his massive arms around her, looking at her like she’s the only woman on the face of the earth.

She has the Callahan name, the legal deeds, the money, the security, and the entire Skulls

syndicate moving at her command.

And the worst, most unforgivable part of it all? Zara is pregnant with Locke’s child.

The thought hits my stomach like a bucket of ice water, turning my rage into something

sharp, poisonous and jagged:

Zara gets the baby. Zara gets the strong man. Zara gets the clean life, the penthouse, the safety,

and the respect.

While I get a four-inch mattress in a twenty-dollar motel, with raw hands, duffel bags of

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Knox’s gold and my clothes, and a bloody drain.

It isn’t f*****g fair.

I want to rip that quiet, superior composure right off her face.

I want to see her standing in the cold with empty hands.

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I want her to feel the absolute, suffocating void of losing a child and a future in a single

night.

‘I want her to suffer’, I think, the words echoing in the quiet room with terrifying clarity. ‘I don’t

know how, and I don’t know when, but I want her to bleed like I bled’.

The problem is, I’m nobody. I’m a ghost sitting in a motel room with jewelry, cash, and two duffel bags. I don’t have a gun, I don’t have a crew, and I don’t have a name that makes

anyone listen.

I’m just Knox’s left-behind girl, a piece of trash thrown out with the rest of his broken belongings. I have nowhere to direct this furnace in my chest.

I’m just stewing in it, letting it burn through my lining, steaming like a pot left on a stove until

the bottom turns to ash.

A sharp, vibrating chime shatters the quiet of the room.

I flinch, my eyes snapping toward the cheap nightstand where my burner phone sits beside a plastic cup of lukewarm tap water.

The screen glows bright blue in the dim room, casting long, stark shadows across the

stained wallpaper.

It’s a push notification from my mobile banking app, a small, generic credit union account Knox had opened for me months ago so I could handle household expenses without asking him for cash every morning. There shouldn’t be more than twenty dollars in that account.

I reach out, my stiff, swollen fingers picking up the phone. I tap the screen.

NOTIFICATION: DIRECT DEPOSIT RECEIVED.

SOURCE: ZURICH FINANCIAL TRUST / AGENCY PROXY 409

AMOUNT: $8,000.00 USD

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CURRENT BALANCE: $8,024.12 USD

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