KING OF THE CONCRETE JUNGLE

Chapter Three — The First Choice

The gunshot outside the elevator wasn’t close, but it was loud enough to make Ethan’s stomach clench.

The man in the suit, Victor Hale, he’d introduced himself earlier in the car, didn’t flinch. He only tilted his head slightly, listening. “Third shot tonight,” Victor murmured, almost to himself. “Busy evening.”

The elevator doors slid open. Two armed guards in black tactical gear stood just beyond, weapons raised toward the hall behind them. The sharp scent of gunpowder drifted in.

Victor stepped forward, blocking Ethan’s path with one arm. “The button,” he said, eyes locked on Ethan. “Now.”

Ethan looked at the remote in his hand. The red light seemed to pulse faintly with every beat of his heart.

He glanced at the screen still glowing behind the elevator’s mirrored wall. The man in the chair,  pale, sweating, lips trembling, stared back at him. That stare wasn’t a plea anymore. It was defiance.

“What happens if I don’t press it?” Ethan asked, his voice low.

Victor’s mouth twitched into the faintest smile. “Then I press it, and I’ll know my new employer doesn’t have the stomach for survival.”

Another muffled shot echoed down the hall. Shouts followed, sharp commands from the guards, the shuffle of boots on marble.

Ethan’s thumb hovered over the button. The choice felt like a wall in front of him: press it, and he crossed into a place he could never come back from; refuse, and he’d already be dead in the eyes of this world.

The man on the screen spat blood at the camera, Ethan pressed the button, A short, muted pop came through the speakers. The man’s head jerked back, then slumped forward, still bound to the chair.

Ethan’s throat was dry. His hand didn’t shake, but his stomach turned, Victor took the remote back without looking at it. “Good,” he said simply. “That was the easy part.”

They stepped into the hallway, It was lined with glass walls revealing sprawling offices beyond, desks of dark wood, glowing computer screens, and floor-to-ceiling views of the city skyline glittering through the rain.

At the far end of the hall, two guards were dragging a limp body toward a service elevator. Ethan kept his eyes forward.

“This floor is yours now,” Victor said as they walked.

“Boardroom, private office, secure communications hub. You’ll have a personal assistant, vetted security, and a legal team that can erase anyone from existence without ever touching them.”

Ethan’s voice was flat. “And in exchange?”

Victor stopped, turning to face him. His eyes were calm, but his words were precise. “In exchange, you’ll be a weapon. The consortium doesn’t hand its crown to an heir who won’t use it. We need someone who can act when required. You just proved you can.”

Ethan thought of the man in the chair, how fast it had happened, how permanent it was. His gut twisted again. “I didn’t”

“You did,” Victor cut in. “And the people who watched that live feed now know you’re not to be tested lightly.”

Ethan stopped walking. “Live feed?”

Victor glanced at him, the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You think you were the only audience? The consortium doesn’t waste time with introductions, it broadcasts them.”

The weight of that settled over Ethan like wet concrete. Whoever those “people” were, they had just seen him kill a man he’d never met. They reached the doors to a massive boardroom.

Inside, a table long enough to seat twenty gleamed under recessed lighting. The walls were lined with framed maps, each dotted with tiny red and gold pins. Ethan recognized some city names. Others, he’d never even heard of.

At the head of the table sat an elderly man in a midnight-blue suit. His hair was silver, his hands veined but steady as they tapped a heavy gold ring against the tabletop.

Victor gestured toward him. “Ethan, meet Chairman Harrington.”

The old man’s eyes, cold and sharp  scanned Ethan from head to toe. “So. The prodigal son returns.”

Ethan frowned. “We’ve met before?”

The Chairman’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Once. You were five. Your father was still breathing then.”

Before Ethan could respond, the boardroom doors slammed open, A guard stumbled in, bleeding from the shoulder. “Sir, intruders breached the lower lobby. Armed.”

Victor turned sharply toward Ethan. “Welcome to your first night on the job.”

The Chairman pushed a black case across the table toward him. “Open it.”

Ethan flipped the latches. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a pistol. Sleek. Polished. Loaded, Victor’s voice was steady. “They’re here for you.”

From the hallway outside, the heavy thud of boots grew louder, And then, the sound of a battering ram hitting the boardroom doors.