Claimed by Zion: The Ruthless Kingpin

Imani POV

The moment my plane lands in LaGuardia Airport, my nerves are already on edge. I haven’t been back home since the night of my 17th birthday, right after graduation. I still remember the blood and the look on his face when I ran from the room. Even now, my chest tightens just thinking about it. I left for school and never looked back until today, and stepping back into this city already feels like a mistake I can’t undo.

Coming back to New York is bittersweet. Although I miss my family, I know he will know I’m back. He runs everything in this city—everything, and nothing moves here without it getting back to him one way or another.

After I step off the plane and head to grab my luggage, I feel like someone is watching me. I look around, trying not to make it obvious, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. People move like normal. Still, the feeling doesn’t go away. I wait for my luggage to come off the belt, and the feeling of being watched becomes overwhelming, pressing against my chest, like it’s not just in my head anymore. Like someone is actually standing somewhere behind me, just out of sight.

My phone rings in my pocket, and my heart jumps. I’m so nervous that I answer without looking at the screen.

“Hello,” I say.

“You finally decided to stop running.”

His voice cuts through on the other end.

My stomach drops.

I hang up instantly.

My hands start shaking. Bad. I can hear my pulse in my ears, loud and uneven.

How did he know I was back?. Nobody was supposed to know I was coming today except Alani and Jalen.

I roll my shoulders like I can shake it off, but it doesn’t work. I grab my luggage and rush to the exit. I dial my sister’s number as I walk out, needing something normal to hold onto. She answers on the second ring.

“Are you here?” I ask.

“I’m already waiting at pickup,” she says.

I step outside, the cool air doing nothing to calm my racing heart. It doesn’t touch the panic sitting under my skin. If anything, it makes it worse, like I just stepped out where whoever’s watching can finally see me clearly. Alani honks her horn when she sees me, and I walk over quickly to her car, my steps a little too fast. I put my luggage in her trunk and hop in the front seat, rubbing my hands across my thighs to calm myself.

“You okay, twin?” she asks.

“Did Jalen tell Zion I was coming home today?” I ask, looking around the parking lot as we drive out of the airport, my eyes scanning without me meaning to.

“I’m not sure, why?” she asks, concern flashing across her face.

“He called me,” I say, my voice dropping like he can hear me.

That lands. I see it in her face.

“He’s been at the clubhouse more, but word on the street is something big is happening. I heard there’s an issue with that MC in Jersey and with the Puerto Ricans in Queens,” she says.

I shake my head quickly. “I’m not trying to be in that world. I just want to find a nice chef job and stay off his radar.”

But just as we turn out of the parking lot, I notice two bikes right at the curb. Black Kings MC patches are on their leathers. They’re not even trying to hide it.

My stomach tightens. Not coincidence, Not random.

He does have people watching me.

Of course he does.

Fuck.

If he knows I’m back, it’s only a matter of time before he comes looking for me.

The rest of the drive home is quiet. Too quiet. My thoughts are louder than anything else.

Last year, our grandparents bought my sister and me a house in Dyker Heights in Brooklyn. It’s supposed to feel safe. When we pull into the driveway, our brother Jalen is sitting outside the house, leaning on his bike, watching.

He grins when I step out of the car.

“Little sis, it’s good to see you. I’ve missed you so much. No visits in four years,” he says.

I force a small smile, but my chest tightens.

That’s because he doesn’t know the real reason I left and never came back.

The memory comes back faster than I can push it away. It hits all at once. Like being back here triggered something I can’t shut off.

“Let me take you somewhere to celebrate,” he says, his voice smooth.

The man I was deeply in love with at 17 turned out to be something I wasn’t prepared for.

He took me to his clubhouse, showed me the bikes, let me sit on his bike, and took me for a ride. I remember how it felt—exciting, easy, like nothing bad could come from it. Jalen always said his friends and their brothers were off-limits, but Zion was nice to me, and he talked to me, and I fell before I could catch myself.

I didn’t even see it coming.

That night changed everything.

Omari ran into the clubhouse and whispered in his ear. I watched Zion’s whole demeanor shift.

“Imani, go in my office and lock the door,” he said firmly.

No room to question it.

I jumped off the bike and ran into the office. Five minutes later, I heard yelling. Loud. Sharp. I peeked through the window, my breath catching before I could stop it.

“Zion, please, I swear I didn’t take anything. I was robbed,” the man on the floor said.

Zion didn’t say anything. And that silence was worse than anything he could’ve said.

He just walked to the far wall and picked up a machete I hadn’t noticed.

My chest tightened.

“You know how I feel about thieves, Marcus,” he said, his voice low and calm.

Too calm.

Omari and Nasir held the man’s hand out on the table, and Zion swung the machete down on his wrist.

The sound—

It makes something in me flinch.

He screamed in agony.

My eyes went wide, and my heart started pounding so hard it hurt. The fear was paralyzing. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Zion grabbed him by the throat as blood poured from his hand.

“The next time you steal from me, I won’t just teach you a lesson. I’m going to take your life,” he said.

My stomach twisted.

“Get him out of my fucking face,” Zion said, turning back toward the office—back toward me.

My chest seized. Because I knew he was coming for me next.

I stepped back as he walked closer, panic rising fast as I looked for a way out, but the only exit was the door.

When he got to it, he turned the knob, and it didn’t open.

“Imani, open the door,” he said.

My name.

But I was stuck. My voice caught in my throat.

“Imani,” he said more firmly.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I ran to the door and unlocked it. When he stepped in, I ran around him and out the door.

I didn’t think. I just ran.

I looked back for a second, and I saw a mix of hurt and anger on his face.

That look stayed with me.

I ran home, packed my bags, and begged my parents to send me on the first flight the next morning.

I was young and naïve.

And I was not prepared for Zion Carter’s world.

And now I’m back in it, whether I want to be or not.