The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 460

Chapter 226-1

Chapter 226-1

Locke

+25 Promte

The ridges light up in a brutal, coordinated crossfire. From thirty feet above, the Grinning Skulls pour a lethal hail of lead straight down into the roofs and windshields of the trapped convoy.

The lead transport truck plows into the wrecked SUV with a crunch of bending steel, it’s heavy tires blowing out under the intense rifle fire as Mayhem and Cobra rake the cab with armor-piercing

rounds.

The driver and passenger are dead before the vehicle even comes to a complete halt, their blood splattering the cracked windshield from the inside in dark, jagged streams.

“Get the thermite on the machinery!” Mayhem shouts over the deafening, metallic roar of gunfire. “Melt the presses!”

Down in the road, the back doors of the middle transport blow wide open, and nine Night Howlers

pour out into the dirt, returning fire up at the ridges with fully automatic rifles.

“Suppressing fire!” Brick roars from thirty feet down the ridge to my right. “On it!”

He racks his heavy shotgun, leaning out far over the exposed edge of the rock face to pump heavy

slugs straight into the cluster of contractors crouching behind the rear tires. He’s taking too much

room, his wide shoulders silhouetted against the dark tree line.

“Brick, pull back!” I shout over the thunder of the weapons, my voice tearing in my throat. “You’re

too exposed!”

Down in the cut, Grit Sterling armed with a drum-fed automatic rifle looks up, spots Brick’s silhouette lit against the night sky, and lets loose a sweeping, blind spray of lead straight up the

granite wall.

A terrible, heavy thump echoes over the gunfire… the sickening sound of steel hitting bone.

|Brick gasps – a short, wet, desperate sound – as three high-caliber rounds punch clean through his tactical vest, tearing straight into his chest. The force of the impact snaps his upper body backward.

He staggers, his heavy boots slipping in the slick, bloody mud at the edge of the cliff. His shotgun slips from his limp, useless fingers, clattering uselessly down the rock face before he pitches forward, tumbling off the high ridge.

I watch in frozen terror as his massive frame falls through the air, crashing heavily onto the hood of the middle transport below.

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Chapter 226-1

+25 Ponte

“Brick!” Hammer yells, his voice cracking with pure, unadulterated rage as he swings the massive barrel of his fifty-caliber rifle toward the shooter. “f**k, no!”

“Keep firing!” Troar, my heart pounding against my ribs like a sledgehammer as I lay down a rapid stream of fire, putting three rounds straight through the contractor who killed Brick before he can even rack another magazine. “Nobody stop!”

Grit’s club street fighters, panicked and completely desperate, are throwing open the back doors of the second truck, trying to drag heavy wooden pallets of boxed fentanyl pills out into the road to build a barricade.

“They’re exposing the inventory!” Cobra shouts from the high ridge. “Light the thermite now!”

Spoon, operating on raw adrenaline and pure instinct, pulls a heavy thermal grenade from his chest

rig.

“I’ve got the middle truck, Locke!” he yells, his voice squeaking slightly under the terror and the deafening noise. “I’ll do it!”

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