The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 485

+25 Points

Chapter 238-2

Anvil nods his head, stepping closer to the glass table.

“Buster’s right, Miss Zara. I work the crane on Pier 4 right next to that lot. Night shift. They

had four guys unloading those crates off a flatbed. One of the crates broke open on the

asphalt when a strap slipped. I saw what was inside.”

“What was it?”

“Bags of IV saline, rolls of surgical gauze, and heavy trauma kits. Real military–grade stuff.

Not the kind of stuff you buy at a local drugstore.”

My heart does a sudden, violent hammer–stroke against my ribs.

Medical supplies.

“Medical supplies bought in cash,” Roxy adds from the sofa, her tone shifting seamlessly from relaxed banter to deadly serious. “One of my girls, Sapphire, works the lounge near the

private medical supply clinic on 8th.”

“She saw something?”

“A guy came in, paid in folded hundred–dollar bills for blood–clotting agents, surgical sutures, IV plasma, and heavy–duty trauma antibiotics. He didn’t ask for a receipt, and he didn’t give a

name.”

“And don’t forget the tow,” Spider, the tow truck driver says. “I got a dispatch call two nights ago to pull a stalled delivery truck out of the mud right behind that dry–cleaning plant. When I pulled up, two guys blocked my hook. They gave me five hundred bucks cash to turn around, forget the address, and leave the truck where it was. That yard is locked down tight.”

Pip leans in, pointing a finger at an alleyway marked on the map behind the main building. “If you guys are gonna go in, tell Cobra’s boys to use the northern drainage pipe. It runs under the chain–link fence right behind the generator shed. I used to sleep in that pipe during winter. The security cameras on the roof have a blind spot right over the intake grate.”

“That’s gold, Pip,” Jade mutters, rapidly typing down the tactical note on her tablet. “That gives us an insertion angle without tripping the fence alarms.”

124

Chapter 238-2

+25 Points

“Vane doesn’t take his dirty work to public hospitals,” I say, the pieces snapping together in

my mind with terrifying, brilliant clarity. “He can’t risk Miller or the city police filing an

emergency room report on a man with weird injuries. He’s running a private, off–the–books

medical triage inside that abandoned dry–cleaning plant.”

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