Rise of the Street King

Chapter 20 – Bounty on His Head

The city changed overnight.

Word of Jayden’s speech spread like gasoline catching a spark. By dawn, the whole underworld buzzed. Crews whispered in alleys, bookies doubled their bets, and corner hustlers muttered his name like it was poison and promise in one breath.

But louder than the whispers was Razor’s answer.

Razor didn’t just raise the bounty he painted it in fire. Flyers scrawled with Jayden’s name and reward money littered street corners. Bartenders spread the word for free shots to anyone who brought him proof. Dealers grinned wide, seeing a payday in his blood. Even kids in the slums joked about spotting him, their eyes sharp with hunger.

Jayden’s face was no longer just a name. It was a target.

The safehouse was tense.

Aria sat by the table, disassembling her shotgun piece by piece, cleaning it with deliberate calm. Kade leaned against the wall, chain-smoking, his rifle across his lap. Hassan lay on the couch, half-dozing but muttering through fever dreams, his wounds not fully healed.

Jayden stood by the cracked window, watching the city pulse. He could feel it the hunger, the betrayal, the scent of money in the air.

“They’re coming,” Aria said flatly, not looking up.

“They’re already here,” Jayden replied.

As if on cue, three sharp knocks echoed at the door. Everyone froze.

Kade’s rifle was up in an instant. Aria slid the bolt back into her shotgun with a click. Hassan groaned, trying to sit up.

Jayden raised a hand. “Wait.”

The knocks came again, softer this time.

“Jayden,” a voice called. “It’s Malik’s cousin. Open up.”

Aria frowned. “Malik’s cousin? He didn’t mention family.”

“Everyone has family,” Jayden murmured.

He moved to the door, tension wound tight in his chest. Slowly, he cracked it open.

A skinny man stood outside, eyes darting, hands trembling. His shirt was two sizes too big, and his breath reeked of smoke.

“They’re saying Razor’s paying twenty stacks for your head,” the man blurted before Jayden could speak. “Twenty. That’s… that’s enough to pull half the block on you.”

Jayden’s jaw tightened. “And why are you here telling me this?”

The man licked his lips nervously. “Because I owe Malik. And because I don’t want to see Razor win.” He glanced over his shoulder, fear sharp in his eyes. “But I ain’t staying. Word is, they’re already moving. Crews you never heard of. Even kids. You step outside, you’re done.”

Jayden studied him, searching for deceit. But all he saw was terror. The kind of terror that Razor inspired.

“Go,” Jayden said finally. “Forget you came here.”

The man nodded, almost tripping over his own feet as he fled into the night.

Jayden closed the door, turning back to the crew.

“It’s official,” he said. “We’re prey.”

The first attempt came an hour later.

They were moving through the backstreets, keeping low, when the ambush hit. Three masked men leapt from the shadows, knives flashing.

Aria dropped one with a single shotgun blast. Kade snapped his rifle up, bullets shredding the second. The third lunged at Jayden, blade aimed for his throat.

Jayden caught the wrist mid-swing. Pain seared as the blade nicked his skin, but he twisted hard, driving his knee into the man’s gut. The knife clattered to the ground. Jayden scooped it up and buried it in the man’s chest.

The thug gasped, staggered, and fell.

Jayden stood over him, chest heaving. Blood slicked his hands. His first cold kill had been Malik. This one was different. This wasn’t betrayal. This was survival.

And the streets demanded more.

By the third night, sleep was a stranger.

Every door knock could be death. Every face in the crowd could hide a knife.

Jayden learned to scan rooftops, to read shadows, to trust the twitch of Aria’s eyes and the grunt of warning from Kade. Twice they barely escaped once from a burning building set as a trap, once from a teenage crew with molotovs in their hands.

The city itself had turned predator.

But it wasn’t just the danger. It was the silence that haunted Jayden most. Old friends looked away when they passed him. Shopkeepers locked doors. Mothers pulled their children close.

No one wanted to be seen near him.

Even those who pledged in the gym began to vanish, one by one. Fear ate loyalty. Money bought silence.

Still, Jayden did not bend.

At the safehouse, he gathered the ones who remained Kade, Aria, Hassan, and a handful of loyal stragglers. Their eyes were tired, faces hollow, but they stayed.

“They’re bleeding us out,” Kade muttered, tossing his cigarette aside. “Every day it’s another fight, another trap. Razor’s not rushing. He’s hunting.”

Aria’s hands clenched on her shotgun. “Then we hunt back.”

Jayden looked at them, his gaze steady. “No. We do worse. We remind the streets why fear isn’t enough. We make an example.”

The crew shifted, uneasy.

“Who?” Hassan rasped, voice weak but sharp.

Jayden’s eyes hardened. “One of Razor’s lieutenants. We cut off the head of his dog pack. Show them that anyone standing with Razor bleeds first.”

Aria’s lips curved into a thin smile. “Finally.”

Kade smirked, though his eyes were grim. “About damn time.”

The plan was simple. Dangerous, but simple.

Razor’s lieutenants liked to drink at a club called Velvet, a neon-lit den where music drowned screams and money bought silence. Everyone knew it. Everyone avoided it.

Except Jayden.

That night, under the veil of the pulsing bass, Jayden walked in with Aria and Kade at his side. Eyes followed them instantly. The bounty on his head was worth more than the drinks in every glass combined.

But the crowd hesitated. Razor’s name loomed heavy. No one wanted to be first.

Jayden’s crew moved like blades through the smoke-filled air. At the far corner, a man in a red leather jacket laughed too loud, gold chain flashing, women draped over his arms. Razor’s lieutenant.

Jayden’s pulse pounded. His body was raw with exhaustion, but his mind burned clear.

He strode forward, ignoring the stares, ignoring the whispers.

The lieutenant turned, grin wide. “Well, well. Look who walked into the wolf’s den. Razor’s favorite rat.”

Jayden said nothing.

Instead, he drew his knife and drove it straight into the man’s chest.

Gasps ripped the club. Music stuttered to silence. Blood spread across the lieutenant’s jacket as his grin twisted into shock, then pain.

Jayden leaned close, whispering so only he could hear. “Tell Razor the streets don’t bow.”

The man gurgled, eyes wide, before collapsing lifeless onto the floor.

Chaos erupted. Screams, shouts, chairs crashing, glass shattering. But Jayden’s voice cut through it all.

“Anyone chasing Razor’s money will end the same!”

He yanked the knife free, blood spraying across the floor.

Aria’s shotgun barked once, scattering the rush of would-be heroes. Kade’s rifle roared, forcing the rest back.

Jayden stood tall over the corpse, blood dripping, gaze sweeping the terrified crowd.

“The streets will remember this night,” he said.

And then they were gone, slipping into the chaos before the walls closed in.

Back at the safehouse, Jayden sat in silence, the lieutenant’s blood still drying on his hands.

The others celebrated nervous laughter, sharp jokes, the relief of survival. But Jayden only stared at his reflection in the broken mirror.

Each kill carved him deeper. Each night made him harder.

The city had turned against him. Razor had poisoned the streets with money and fear. But tonight proved something.

He could bleed the poison out. One corpse at a time.

His reflection stared back, dark eyes burning.

“I’ll take back this city,” he whispered to himself. “Even if I have to drown it in blood.”

And in the silence, he swore he heard Razor’s laugh echoing, distant but mocking, promising that the true hunt had only just begun.

Jayden has struck back, killing one of Razor’s lieutenants in public. The city is watching. Razor will not let this insult stand. The war is officially declared.