Leo: Zodiac HellHounds MC

Liliane POV → Leo POV

Liliane

I didn’t belong in places like this.

That was the first thought that settled into my bones the moment we pulled up outside the Zodiac Hellhounds’ clubhouse—music thudding through the walls, engines rumbling like restless animals, neon lights cutting through the dark like a warning instead of an invitation.

“You promised one drink,” I said, fingers tightening around my purse strap as I looked at the line of bikes out front.

Marcy grinned at me, already half-buzzed on anticipation. “Relax. It’s open bar night. Free drinks. Free food. And free eye candy.”

My stomach twisted. “That’s not comforting.”

She laughed and looped her arm through mine before I could protest again. “You work too hard. One night out won’t kill you.”

I wasn’t afraid of loud places.

I was afraid of being seen.

Inside, the clubhouse was chaos—leather and denim, laughter sharp-edged, men and women pressed close, the air thick with smoke and heat and something dangerous I couldn’t name. I immediately clocked exits. Old habit.

I stayed near the wall, nursing a soda while Marcy vanished into the crowd like she’d been born there. I watched instead—faces, movements, power shifting subtly from one man to another.

That’s when I felt it.

That pull.

That awareness crawling up my spine.

I looked up—

And met his eyes.

He wasn’t the loudest man in the room. Wasn’t laughing or shouting or showing off. He stood near the bar, posture relaxed but watchful, like a predator pretending to be still.

Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Cut worn like it belonged to his skin.

President.

I didn’t know how I knew. I just did.

His gaze didn’t roam. It locked.

On me.

My breath hitched. Not fear—not exactly. Something steadier. He didn’t look at me like I was something to take.

He looked like he was assessing whether I was safe.

A man brushed too close behind me, hand grazing my lower back. I flinched automatically.

The next second, the pressure was gone.

I blinked—and the man was gone too.

Replaced by him.

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly, voice low enough that only I could hear. “You okay?”

I nodded even though my heart was pounding. “Yes. I—yes.”

He didn’t touch me. Didn’t crowd me. Just stood close enough that the world shifted around us.

“Water?” he asked.

Not a drink.

Not a line.

Water.

“That would be nice,” I said softly.

He nodded once and turned away.

I watched him go, pulse racing, and realized something terrifying:

For the first time in a very long time, I didn’t feel invisible.

Leo

She shouldn’t have been here.

That was my first thought the second I saw her standing near the wall like she was bracing for impact instead of a good time.

Open bar nights were controlled chaos. I watched everything—who drank too much, who pushed boundaries, who didn’t belong. She didn’t belong.

Not because she was weak.

Because she was untouched by this world.

She didn’t flirt. Didn’t scan the room for attention. She watched like she was counting exits, shoulders tight, eyes sharp and tired in a way that pissed me off for reasons I didn’t want to unpack.

When that idiot brushed against her, something ugly stirred in my chest.

I didn’t think.

I just moved.

Removed the problem. Placed myself between her and the noise.

She looked up at me like she expected something bad to happen.

That nearly broke me.

“Water?” I offered, because it was the only thing that felt right.

She said yes like it surprised her.

At the bar, Daisy clocked me immediately.

“Since when do you play babysitter?” she asked, smirking.

I didn’t look at her. “Since tonight.”

I handed the glass to the woman—careful not to touch her fingers—and watched her take a sip like she’d just been given permission to breathe.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Liliane,” she said. “But Lily’s fine.”

“No,” I said quietly. “Liliane fits.”

Her lips parted slightly, like the sound of her own name landed somewhere unexpected.

I didn’t smile.

Didn’t flirt.

Didn’t promise.

But I stayed.

And the club adjusted around us like it understood something before I did.

Because the truth—the one that would ruin everything later—was already taking shape:

From the moment I saw her, I was doomed.

And I didn’t even know it yet.