KING OF THE CONCRETE JUNGLE

Chapter Two — Conditional Upon Survival

The rain seemed to hush as the figure stepped fully into the headlights, water glinting off the long black barrel in his hands.

“Keep driving,” Ethan said instinctively, though his voice was low, unsure.

The suited man beside him didn’t look at him. “Stop the car.”

The convoy slowed, tires hissing against the wet pavement. The man in the lead vehicle must have seen something Ethan didn’t, because both flanking cars shifted positions, one blocking the rear, one angling forward, creating a narrow corridor with the rifleman at its mouth.

Ethan’s hand tightened on the envelope still in his lap. “Who is that?”

The man in the suit didn’t answer. He was already reaching inside his jacket. Not for another envelope this time for a sleek matte-black pistol.

He checked the chamber with a flick, the sound clicking loud in the enclosed space. “What the hell is going on?” Ethan demanded.

“You inherited a war,” the man said simply. “Consider this your… orientation.”

The rifleman raised the weapon, and the night exploded. Glass shattered as a shot punched through the windshield. The driver swore, jerking the wheel, the car skidded sideways, the convoy fragmenting under the sudden chaos.

Ethan ducked, heart pounding, as another shot cracked past his ear and splintered the door panel. The man beside him moved like liquid steel, calm and efficient, firing twice through the gap in the window.

The rifleman stumbled back, a dark bloom spreading across his shoulder, but didn’t fall. Instead, he vanished into the shadows at the edge of the street. “Move!” the suited man barked at the driver. The car roared forward.

Rain blurred the world outside, streetlights streaking past like falling stars. Ethan gripped the seat, fighting the urge to throw up. “What the hell was that?”

“Test,” the man said, eyes scanning the rearview mirror. “Someone wanted to see how you’d react under pressure.”

“That was a test?!”

The man finally looked at him, gaze sharp as cut glass. “In this world, Mr. Cole, if you fail a test, you die. Your father understood that. So will you.”

The convoy didn’t stop until it reached the Harrington Tower, a monolithic glass structure that stabbed into the clouds. Armed security in black coats lined the private driveway, their eyes hidden behind reflective lenses.

As the car door opened, warm air and the scent of polished wood spilled in from the lobby beyond. Ethan climbed out, legs unsteady, still clutching the envelope like it was a lifeline.

Inside, the marble floor was so clean it looked like water. Chandeliers dripped light over leather chairs and oil paintings. This wasn’t just money. This was legacy.

“Where are we?” Ethan asked.

“Home,” the man replied. “Until you decide if you’re staying alive.”

They crossed the lobby and entered a private elevator. The man swiped a gold keycard, and the doors closed, sealing them in silence.

“Let’s start with the basics,” the man said, glancing at Ethan. “You inherited not just wealth, but influence. The consortium’s reach extends to banks, tech companies, defense contractors”

“I don’t care about that,” Ethan cut in. “I care about why someone was trying to shoot me less than an hour after you told me I was rich.”

The man studied him for a moment, then pressed a button on the elevator panel. The display flickered, and suddenly, the mirrored wall behind them turned opaque, revealing a live feed of a dimly lit room.

Inside the room sat a man tied to a chair. His face was pale, blood trickling from his mouth. His eyes, furious, desperate, locked on the camera.

“This,” the suited man said calmly, “is the one who ordered your welcome party tonight.”

Ethan stared. “Why are you showing me this?”

The man slipped a small, black remote from his pocket and placed it in Ethan’s hand. “Because the consortium doesn’t call the police. We handle problems… directly.”

Ethan’s thumb hovered over the single red button in the center of the remote. “If I press this…?”

The man’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’ll be safe. For now.”

Ethan looked back at the man on the screen. The stranger’s chest was rising and falling fast, his eyes boring into Ethan’s as if willing him to hesitate.

His hand shook. He wasn’t a killer. He couldn’t, The man in the suit spoke again, voice low. “Or you can hand that remote back to me… and find out how quickly word spreads that you’re too weak to hold what you’ve been given.”

The elevator chimed. They had reached the top floor, Ethan looked down at the remote, the red button glowing faintly under his thumb, Outside the elevator doors, voices were waiting. Heavy footsteps, And then  a gunshot.

The man in the suit’s eyes narrowed. “Decision time, Mr. Cole.”