Rise of the Street King

Chapter 17 – Razor’s Snare

The smoke of the market still clung to Jayden’s clothes days later. It was in his hair, his lungs, his skin. He could still see Musa’s body crumpling, still feel the knife sliding in. The memory played on a loop every time he shut his eyes.

The streets, though, did not pause for his guilt.

By dawn, word had spread. Jayden killed Musa in the middle of the market. Some whispered his name with awe, others with fear. Most with a kind of hunger. The boy had spilled blood in the open. That made him dangerous. And danger always drew attention.

It also drew Razor.

The message came through a street kid, no older than twelve, his bare feet slapping against the wet pavement as he ran up to Jayden. The boy shoved a folded slip into his hand and vanished back into the maze of alleys before Jayden could ask a word.

Jayden opened it, brows furrowed. The handwriting was jagged, aggressive.

Come alone. Midnight. Riverside warehouse. We talk like men.

No name. No signature. But Jayden knew who had sent it.

Razor.

Kade leaned over his shoulder as they sat in the safe house, lit only by a bare bulb swinging overhead. “This stinks,” Kade muttered. “Too neat. Too quiet. He’s baiting you.”

Aria tightened her bandage with a hiss. Her arm was still healing from Razor’s blade, but her eyes never left Jayden. “If it’s Razor, it’s not a meeting. It’s a trap. He doesn’t talk. He cuts.”

Jayden’s fingers tightened on the note. His ribs still ached from the market. His arm bore Razor’s scar. He remembered the briefcase slipping away, Razor’s laughter echoing. Every part of him wanted payback.

He looked at Hassan, pale on the couch, his wound healing but slow. Hassan’s voice was weak, but sharp. “Razor won’t stop coming. You hide, he finds you. You chase, he sets the field. Either way, he controls the game.”

Jayden stood, slipping the note into his pocket. “Then I’ll break the game.”

Aria rose halfway, fury sparking in her eyes. “You’re not seriously thinking

“I am,” Jayden cut her off. “If I run, the streets call me a coward. If I hide, Razor bleeds us out one by one. I have to face him. I have to show him I’m not afraid.”

Silence weighed heavy.

Finally Kade cursed under his breath. “Then I’m coming.”

“No,” Jayden said. “The note said alone. If he sees you, he’ll gun us all down.”

Kade’s jaw clenched. “Then it’s suicide.”

“Maybe,” Jayden said. “Or maybe it’s the first step to something bigger.”

The decision was made.

Midnight painted the riverside black. The warehouse loomed like a hollow carcass, its windows shattered, its corrugated walls rusting with time. The water nearby slapped against stone in steady rhythm. The air smelled of oil and rot.

Jayden stepped inside, pistol heavy in his jacket pocket. His footsteps echoed against the empty steel floor. Shadows stretched long across the walls, the beams groaning in the night wind.

“Jayden,” a voice called. Smooth, mocking. “The boy with the sharp teeth.”

Razor stepped from the darkness, machete gleaming faintly in the moonlight that spilled through a broken skylight. He looked even larger here, framed by ruin. His grin was the same as always hungry.

“You came,” Razor said. “Alone. Good. Shows you’ve got some steel.”

Jayden kept his pistol low but ready. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”

Razor chuckled, shaking his head. “Straight to business. I like that. But let’s not pretend. You’re here because I let you be here. You breathe because I haven’t decided to close the book yet.”

Jayden’s jaw tightened. “You took the case. You bled my people. You think I’ll just kneel?”

Razor’s grin widened. “Not kneel. Crawl. See, that case isn’t just money. It’s leverage. It’s a key that unlocks men in high places. And you… you’re a rat scurrying with scraps, dreaming of thrones.”

Jayden’s pulse thudded. “Then why not kill me here and now?”

Razor stepped closer, boots crunching glass. “Because killing you outright is easy. Breaking you, making you mine, watching you bow? That’s art.”

Jayden’s hand tightened on the pistol grip.

Then something clicked above. Metal on metal.

He looked up. Too late.

Figures lined the catwalks, rifles pointed down. Red scarves, dozens of them. Their barrels glinted in the moonlight.

Jayden cursed under his breath.

Razor laughed, the sound booming in the cavernous hall. “Did you really think I’d meet you fair? Boy, the streets don’t play fair. The streets eat the weak. Tonight, you’re dinner.”

Gunfire exploded.

Jayden dove behind a steel crate, bullets sparking off its side. His ears rang. He fired upward blindly, sparks showering down. One scarf dropped, screaming. The rest roared back.

His lungs burned. His ribs screamed. But his mind was cold, sharp. This was death. Unless he made it something else.

He spotted a chain dangling from the rafters. He gritted his teeth, bolted from cover, and grabbed it. Bullets sliced the air, one grazing his shoulder, fire tearing through flesh. He swung the chain, slamming it into the nearest gunman. The man toppled from the catwalk, crashing onto the steel below.

Jayden grabbed the fallen rifle, rolling into cover. He sprayed upward, forcing the others back. His pulse was a drumbeat, his vision red.

Razor’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and cruel. “Fight, boy. Fight until you break. I’ll enjoy every second.”

Jayden’s teeth clenched. He wasn’t breaking. Not tonight.

He dropped another scarf, then another. But they kept coming. Too many. The warehouse thundered with boots as more poured through the doors.

He was cornered. Outnumbered. Exactly where Razor wanted him.

Jayden pressed his back to the crate, rifle smoking, sweat and blood dripping down his face. His mind raced.

No way out. No hope.

Unless—

His eyes darted to a fuel drum stacked near the far wall. Rusted, leaking, the smell strong even here.

A plan sparked. Dangerous. Stupid. His only shot.

He fired a burst toward the drum. Sparks lit. Fire licked across the floor, fast and hungry.

The warehouse began to burn.

Screams rose as flames climbed. Shadows flickered wild. Razor’s laugh echoed louder, like a beast unchained.

“Good!” Razor roared. “Burn with me, boy! Show me your fire!”

Jayden coughed, lungs clawing for air as smoke billowed. He staggered toward the far doors, bullets snapping past. The fire roared higher, spreading fast, turning steel red-hot.

He reached the exit, body screaming, vision spinning. Behind him, Razor’s figure loomed in the flames, grinning, unburned, a demon of the streets.

“Run, boy,” Razor called. His voice was warped by the fire. “Run! I’ll find you again. And next time, you won’t crawl out.”

Jayden stumbled into the night, collapsing into the dirt by the river. His hands shook, lungs gasping. He was alive. Barely.

But he knew the truth now.

Razor didn’t just want him dead. Razor wanted him broken.

Jayden escapes the warehouse by fire and luck, but Razor’s game is clear: he will hunt Jayden until he either bends or burns. The war has only begun.