King of the Underground

Underworld Politics

Chapter 6: Underworld Politics

The Chimera Hotel didn’t appear on maps.

From the outside, it looked like a forgotten relic—a crumbling high-rise in the industrial district, its windows blackened and its name worn to rot. But inside, deep beneath the fake lobby and cracked marble, it housed the true rulers of Cape Heights.

The Syndicate Council.

Seven bosses. Seven empires. Drugs, weapons, tech, flesh, politics, data, and blood.

Jaxon Creed had been one of them—once. Before betrayal. Before exile. Before Kade.

Now, he walked through the armored double doors like a ghost risen from the past. His boots echoed on the polished concrete as two armed guards escorted him down a private hallway to the council chamber.

Jaxon didn’t flinch when the biometric scanners clicked, or when the inner gate buzzed open like the jaws of a beast.

He stepped into the room.

It was cold, circular, windowless—each boss seated in a throne-like chair positioned like a crescent moon around a hollow center. The walls were lined with LED panels streaming global crime data, security feeds, and digital cash flow in real-time.

Every eye turned to him.

Some were shocked. Some amused. None smiled.

The man in the center leaned forward. Gareth Vico, boss of the tech syndicate—silver-haired, calculating, known for turning men into servers and threats into signals.

“Jaxon Creed,” Gareth said with faint mockery. “Back from the dead. How poetic.”

“I’m not here for poetry,” Jaxon replied. “I’m here for business.”

A woman to Gareth’s left, draped in gold chains and cigarette smoke, narrowed her eyes. Madame Kryla, mistress of flesh. “You lost your seat when you vanished, Creed. You don’t get to walk in here like the crown’s still yours.”

“I didn’t vanish,” he said. “I was erased. By the man sitting in my seat.”

No one corrected him.

No one had to.

Everyone knew who held his throne now: Kade Creed.

Gareth spoke again. “Your return has caused... noise. Disorder. We don’t like noise.”

“I’m not here to cause noise,” Jaxon said. “I’m here to fix what’s broken. Cape Heights is crumbling under your silence. Kade’s turned the city into a cartel playground, running rogue ops, skimming profits, making foreign alliances without council approval.”

Kryla scoffed. “And you expect us to believe you’re the solution?”

“No,” he said simply. “I expect you to remember who the real threat is.”

He tapped a file on the table. Miko’s work.

Gareth eyed it, skeptical. “What is this?”

“Proof,” Jaxon said. “Kade’s cutting deals with outside governments. Selling our systems to foreign security agencies. Laundering intel through shell corps linked to SIA.”

One of the younger bosses, a newcomer named Lex, picked up the file and scanned the contents. His eyes widened. “This... this shows he sold our facial-recognition systems to the Eastern Bloc.”

Jaxon nodded. “He’s not just selling the city. He’s selling you.”

Silence rippled through the chamber.

Finally, Gareth leaned back. “What do you want?”

“A chance to clean house. Back me... or stay neutral. Either way, I’m taking back what’s mine.”

Kryla lit a cigarette, exhaled a slow curl of smoke. “If you fail, we don’t know you.”

“I won’t fail.”

She smirked. “You already did. That’s why your face disappeared from the table.”

Jaxon stepped forward, voice low and lethal. “And that’s why I remember every name that left me to rot.”

A slow tension settled over the room. The kind that only broke in blood or alliance.

Gareth finally stood. “Then it’s decided. We won’t stop you—but we won’t save you. If Kade kills you again, we’ll make sure your second death sticks.”

“Fair enough,” Jaxon said, turning away.

But just before he reached the door, Kryla’s voice cut the air.

“You should watch your back, Creed. Kade’s not a boy anymore.”

He didn’t stop walking.

“That’s what makes it fun.”

Outside, the city was alive with chaos. News of Jaxon’s council appearance had already leaked to the black-market channels. Forums buzzed. Street crews whispered.

And in the dark, high above the skyline in Zenith Tower, Kade Creed poured a drink and watched the footage of the meeting play on his private screen.

He sipped slowly, jaw tight.

“He's moving faster than expected,” Viktor said beside him.

Kade’s eyes burned with quiet fury. “He always does.”

“What do you want to do?”

Kade turned to the window, staring at the city he now ruled.

“Let him rally the rats,” he said. “Let him feel like a king again.”

Then he smiled, cruel and patient.

“And when he comes for the crown, we crush his skull with it.”