All Chapters of Zion: The Kingpin Who Claimed Me: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

Zion POV I been wanting Imani since the day I met her. She was younger then, looking way too good to be off limits. Jalen made sure to tell all of us that his sisters were not to be fucked with because they weren’t like the girls we were used to. Off limits. But that never stopped the way I looked at her. Or the way she looked at me. The way Imani been looking at me has my dick hard every time I see her. Like she already know exactly what she want me to do to her. Like she want me to bend her over a table and fuck her hard from behind. Just thinking about it has me adjusting myself in my jeans before I even get out the truck. I wasn’t sure what to expect today when Jalen called asking if I wanted to help move the twins into their new house. Inside I was more excited than I care to admit for a man of my caliber. Truth is… I was hype. I jumped at the invitation. I been waiting for the chance to see her again. It’s been three long years since the last time. Three

Chapter 4 Zion POV I watch her walk onto the dance floor like she forgot I’m even here. The lights flash over the crowd, blue and white strobes cutting through the dark while the bass vibrates through the floor. Within seconds she disappears into the sea of bodies moving to the music. But I still see her. My eyes never leave her. Her hips sway to the beat, slow and effortless, that pink jumpsuit hugging every curve like it was made just for her. The way she moves like nothing happened between us… like she didn’t just walk away from me. That shit pisses me off. A tall dude slides up behind her first. She shifts slightly, creating space between them. He leans down and whispers something in her ear. She laughs politely and moves away from him. Good. Then another dude steps up behind her. Omari notices the way my body goes still. “She just dancing bro,” he mutters beside me. But I’m not listening. Because the second dude just put his hand on her waist. Some

Chapter 6 Zion POV After I text her, I sit back in my chair in the office at the Yonkers crib I share with my brothers. The room smells like weed, liquor, and leather. The low lamp on my desk throws a dull amber glow across the walls while the rest of the house sits quiet around us. Virgo and Nasir sit across from me. Nasir flicks his lighter and sparks a spliff. The flame lights his face for half a second before he inhales slow and deep, smoke curling toward the ceiling. “The Serranos know about Imani,” I say, taking a slow sip of my Henny. Virgo straightens in his chair immediately. His eyes sharpen. “That’s a problem,” he says low. I can already see his brain working. Running angles. Thinking about bodies. “What you about to do?” Virgo asks. Nasir passes me the blunt. Virgo is the middle brother out of the three of us and the one always ready to shoot first. At twenty-four he’s the best shot in the family next to me. I take two slow pulls before pass