His Only Weakness

Lorenzo POV

Tonight, I came here just to enjoy myself. When I spotted her at the bar, I couldn’t help but think she was way too gorgeous to be single. As I moved closer, I caught a flicker of something on her face—fear. Not loud. Not panicked. The quiet kind. The kind that sits behind the eyes and makes them move too fast.

That look I’d seen before in men before I took them out—fear. Right before they realized they weren’t walking away.

And she was trying to drown it. Shot after shot. Like it would make whatever she was running from disappear.

So when I asked her to dance, I expected to uncover what was really scaring her.

And what I found was shocking.

As we moved together, she looked up and caught sight of the office—

there he was.

Zion Carter.

Standing still. Watching. Not moving—because he doesn’t need to. The room moves around him.

Sure, I know this is his club, but they throw wild parties, and I’ve heard he rarely shows up here.

I recognized him instantly.

The Serranos have been plotting to seize his Queens territory for ages.

Rico will be glad to know she’s got his attention—

that’s useful intel.

Very useful.

We danced briefly until her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She stiffened, dropping the phone on the floor.

Not a small reaction. Not subtle. Her whole body locked up like something just grabbed her.

Only Zion could make a woman look this terrified.

She fights to shake off her fear, and we dance again—

but suddenly, the room falls silent.

Not all at once. It fades. Conversations cut. Music dips. People shift—clearing space without being told.

—and everyone starts clearing the floor for him.

Damn.

I might not be scared of Zion, but I can’t let him see who I am.

He didn’t recognize me from afar, but up close—

that could change everything.

Her hands tremble at her sides as he steps closer.

Small. Real. Uncontrolled.

I tighten my grip on her waist, trying to steady her.

Or maybe to steady myself.

His eyes drop to my hand at her waist.

And just like that—the air changes.

Without warning, he grabs her arm and yanks her toward him.

Fast. Controlled. Like he’s done this before. Like this is normal to him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks, voice low.

Not loud—but sharp enough to cut through what’s left of the noise.

“I’m… I’m just dancing,” she responds.

Her voice betrays her. Shaky. Breath catching.

“Why are you letting another man touch what’s mine?” he demands.

Mine. Not her name. Not his girl. Mine.

“Zion, I don’t belong to you,” she says softly.

And that right there? That’s dangerous.

He smirks.

“You really still believe that?” he chuckles dryly.

Cold. Like he already knows how this ends.

My focus sharpens as I watch him with her—

she’s just a pawn in his game,

but I refuse to let him hurt her.

And that’s a problem. Caring—even a little—gets people killed.

King drifts silently behind me, the cold weight of a gun pressed against my back.

Firm. Steady. No hesitation behind it.

My muscles tense instinctively.

Damn, I hate getting caught slipping.

“Would you prefer I have King kill your friend here to make my point?” he coldly propositions her.

Like it’s a choice. Like either answer ends the same.

She quickly shakes her head.

“I just want to go home,” she whispers, tears streaking down her face.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

Her voice cracks.

“Please, just leave him alone. I was only trying to have fun tonight. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt,” she pleads, voice trembling.

Fear turning into desperation right in front of us.

“We were just dancing—I didn’t know she had a man, and I didn’t ask. No disrespect,” I calmly add.

Measured. Controlled. Every word placed carefully.

His gaze snaps to me—

sharp.

Focused. Like a blade locking onto something worth cutting.

—as if he recognizes me but can’t quite place where.

Too long. A second too long.

Good.

I raise my hands in surrender, knowing I need to get out of here—and report back to Rico.

I’m deep in Carter territory now.

He studies the girl, then me, before speaking.

“This is your warning, Imani,” he says, then gestures toward King.

The gun shifts away from my back.

The pressure lifts—but the danger doesn’t. Not yet.

King leans closer, a dangerous smile curling his lips.

“I was hoping he’d let me kill you. He might not realize who you are yet, but I do—and if this moment comes back to bite him, you’ll wish I’d finished the job today,” he whispers low.

Not a threat. A promise.

Then he steps back.

Without hesitation, I turn and bolt outside.

No looking back. No slowing down. Because hesitation gets you noticed—and noticed gets you killed.

The moment I’m clear, I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Rico:

[Found a new way to get to Zion]

I pause, staring back at the club.

At the doors she’s still inside of.

Still his.

For now.

A slow smirk pulls at my lips as I type again.

[She’s not just a distraction… she’s leverage.]

I hit send.

Because now?

It’s not about taking Zion’s territory anymore.

It’s about breaking him.