The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 464

Chapter 228 1

25 Ponte

Chapter 228-1

propped up against the headboard of our bed, my legs pulled tight to my chest, my arms

wrapped around my knees. Across the room are my father and brother.

They don’t give me details. They don’t try to soften it. In a few flat, hollow sentences, Dad lays out

the wreckage:

Brick was shot, fell over the ledge and died on a truck.

Spoon died in Locke’s arms down in the road.

And while Locke was down in the mud, devastated and holding Spoon’s body, someone dragged

him away into the smoke before anyone could reach him.

I sit frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs so violently I can hear the blood roaring in my ears, my thoughts tumbling like a box of toys falling down the stairs:

He was kneeling in the mud.

He was holding a dead boy in his arms.

They dragged him away into the dark.

Something inside me snaps.

It isn’t a quiet breaking. It isn’t a gentle surrender to grief.

It’s a sudden, blinding, apocalyptic burst of white-hot rage that burns through the fog of the pregnancy-safe sedative, through the exhaustion, through the terror, turning my blood into boiling

acid.

I throw off the heavy duvet, swinging my bare legs over the edge of the mattress, standing up so

fast the room tilts on its axis.

“You left him!” I scream, the sound tearing out of my throat so loud and jagged that Dad flinches

where he stands. “You just left him alone!”

“Zara, calm down -” Mayhem begins, stepping toward me, hands outstretched. “Please.”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” I shriek, shoving Mayhem’s broad chest with all the strength left in my body. He doesn’t move an inch, but his eyes widen in shock as I slam my hands against his chest again and again. “Don’t you dare f*****g look at me! You left him! You’re his brothers, you’re his

club, and you left him lying in the mud while strangers dragged him away!”

“Zara, there was suppressive fire,” Mayhem tries to explain, his voice rising in desperation. “We

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Chapter 28 1

couldn’t -”

don’t care about suppressive fire!” I scream at the top of my lungs, “f**k that!”

+25 Point

I turn on my father, who stands frozen, staring at me with a crushed, devastated expression.

“You’re the President! You’re f*****g Cobra! Everyone in this city is terrified of you! You talk about

protection, you talk about family, you talk about blood… and you let them take Locke!”

“Sweetheart…” Cobra rasps, his hand rising slightly, trembling. “I -”

“He carried this club on his back!” I scream at my father, stepping right into his face, my knuckles white, my whole frame shaking violently with unadulterated fury. “He did your dirty work!”

Dad flinches.

“He killed for you, he bled for you, he gave up his peace so you could sit on your f*****g throne. And

when he was down in the dirt, holding the corpse of a nineteen-year-old boy, where were you, Dad?

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