Rise of the Street King

Chapter 18 – Blood on the Hands

Jayden’s clothes still smelled of smoke. His lungs still clawed for air, the fire’s memory scorched into his chest. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Razor grinning in the flames, calling him boy, daring him to break.

But what weighed heavier than Razor’s laughter was the silence inside his own crew.

The safehouse had never felt so tense. Kade paced like a caged dog, fists balled. Aria sat against the wall, her bandaged arm across her lap, eyes cold. Hassan lay on the couch, still pale from his wound, but his gaze followed Jayden with quiet judgment.

No one said it outright, but Jayden could feel it. Razor wasn’t the only threat. The streets were whispering. Someone had tipped Razor off. Someone in Jayden’s circle.

And a king couldn’t afford a traitor.

The truth came two nights later.

Kade had dragged a boy into the room, his hair matted, lip split, wrists bound. It was Malik — one of Jayden’s younger runners. The kid barely looked eighteen. His wide eyes flicked between them, terrified.

Kade shoved him to the floor. “Caught him slipping near the old rail yard. Passing notes. Red scarf boys.”

Jayden’s stomach sank.

Malik shook his head violently, tears springing. “No, no, it wasn’t like that! I swear, I wasn’t”

“Shut up,” Kade snapped, kicking him in the side. Malik wheezed, curling up.

Aria’s gaze never wavered. She studied the boy like a hawk, her voice calm, sharp. “He was there the night Razor ambushed you at the warehouse. He knew where you were going. Only a handful of us did.”

Malik choked on his words. “I didn’t tell him! I didn’t he found me, he said if I didn’t help, they’d cut my sister. I had no choice!”

Jayden’s throat tightened. The boy’s fear was real. He could hear it. Feel it. But truth or excuse, the result was the same. Razor had known.

Kade crouched low, fist knotted in Malik’s shirt. “This rat fed us to Razor. He almost got you killed. He got Musa killed. You think the streets will respect us if we let this slide?”

Aria’s eyes cut to Jayden. “What happens next is on you.”

The room fell into silence. Even Hassan, usually quick with words, said nothing.

All eyes were on Jayden.

The weight pressed down like chains. He wanted to believe Malik. Wanted to believe the kid had been forced. But he remembered Razor’s laugh, Razor’s snare, Razor’s army raining bullets from the rafters. He remembered Musa’s blood soaking the dirt.

The streets had no room for mercy.

Jayden’s hand moved slowly to the pistol tucked in his waistband. His crew watched, not blinking.

Malik’s eyes widened, his bound hands reaching out desperately. “Jayden, please! You know me, I”

Jayden’s voice cut like stone. “I know you talked. And in this life, one word can kill us all.”

Malik sobbed, shaking his head. “I didn’t want this! I’m one of you!”

Jayden raised the pistol. His arm trembled. His chest burned.

Kade’s voice was low, urging. “Do it. Show them you’re not soft.”

Aria’s voice was softer, but sharper. “This is the crown you wanted. Wear it.”

Hassan turned his face away.

Malik’s tears streaked his dirt-stained cheeks. “Please… don’t.”

Jayden’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. His finger curled against the trigger. His stomach twisted.

He thought of Razor, waiting, watching. He thought of the streets, whispering. A king who couldn’t cut off rot was no king at all.

The shot cracked through the safehouse.

Malik collapsed, a lifeless heap on the floor. Blood pooled slowly, seeping into the concrete.

The silence after was deafening.

Jayden lowered the pistol, hand shaking. His ears rang, his vision blurred. He had done it. He had crossed the line.

Kade nodded once, satisfied. “Now they’ll know.”

Aria studied Jayden, unreadable. But she didn’t look away.

Hassan let out a ragged sigh, covering his face with his hands.

Jayden stared down at Malik’s body, his own reflection glinting in the blood. For the first time, he didn’t feel like the boy chasing dreams of thrones. He felt like the streets themselves had claimed him.

The weight of the crown wasn’t glory. It was blood.

And he had just taken his first step into wearing it.

Later that night, alone, Jayden scrubbed Malik’s blood from his hands. No matter how hard he rubbed, the red stayed in his skin. He could still feel the boy’s pleading eyes. Still hear the word please.

He stared into the cracked mirror above the sink. His own face stared back, hollow-eyed, older than it should have been.

“You wanted to rule,” he whispered to himself. “Now rule.”

Outside, the city pulsed. The Iron Fangs roared louder with every passing night. Razor’s bounty spread across the blocks like fire. Every hustler, every killer, every desperate man with a gun wanted Jayden’s head.

And inside his own crew, the silence stretched. They followed him. They feared him. But trust had cracked.

The blood he spilled had sealed his place. But it had also marked him forever.

Jayden clenched his fists, Malik’s ghost still clinging to his skin. He knew Razor would come again. He knew the bounty would bring death to his door.

But now, Jayden wasn’t just fighting to survive.

He was fighting to prove he was king.

Jayden has executed his first traitor, shattering a piece of himself. The crew follows, but fear shadows their loyalty. Outside, Razor places a bounty on Jayden’s head the whole city becomes a hunting ground.