Rise of the Street King

Chapter 25: The Burned Boy

The man in the cheap suit had walked away, leaving Jayden with more questions than bullets. He didn’t trust him not his smirk, not his words, not the way he spoke Zuri’s name as though it were a coin he already owned. But Jayden had learned something crucial: bread, loyalty, hunger these were weapons just as sharp as knives.

Still, the streets didn’t wait for him to untangle riddles. By morning, he and Tariq were moving again, shaking off shadows, listening to whispers.

That’s when he saw him.

A boy. Barefoot, limping, his face scarred from old flames. The same boy Jayden had pulled from a burning shack weeks ago, back when survival had left no room for names. The boy froze the moment their eyes met. Then, without hesitation, he sprinted forward and dropped to his knees before Jayden.

“Boss!” His voice cracked like broken glass, rough but alive. “You saved me. You… you pulled me out when the fire took everything.”

Jayden stared. He remembered the smoke, the screams, the weight of a frail body dragged through the flames. He hadn’t thought about it since. He hadn’t expected the boy to live, let alone seek him out.

“What’s your name?” Jayden asked.

The boy straightened his back, chest puffing out as though this answer mattered more than air. “Malik.”

Tariq chuckled dryly. “Another mouth, Jay? Thought we were trying to cut weight, not add it.”

But Jayden wasn’t laughing. He saw something fierce in Malik’s eyes something more powerful than muscle or money. Devotion. The kind that couldn’t be bought.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jayden muttered. “Kids don’t last long on streets like these.”

Malik shook his head. “I lasted this long. And I’ll last longer with you. You saved me. That means I owe you. Forever.”

The word hung heavy. Forever.

Jayden turned away, hiding the crack in his expression. Loyalty was rare here. Too rare to waste.

“Fine,” he said at last. “But you listen, and you keep your eyes sharper than your tongue. You see something, you tell me. You hear something, you bring it to me first. You understand?”

Malik’s grin spread wide. “Yes, Boss.”

And just like that, the burned boy became his shadow.

The days that followed moved like storms. Jayden pressed deeper into his bread strategy, sliding coins to vendors, keeping bellies full. The word of his name spread like smoke. Mothers whispered it to children. Vendors carved it into trust. And behind him, Malik ran errands, carried messages, even served as lookout when Razor’s men prowled too close.

He was quick, sharp, unafraid. Too unafraid.

One afternoon, when the air was thick with rain, Malik ran into their hideout, gasping, hair dripping with sweat.

“Boss they’re talking about you.”

Jayden glanced up from his pistol, calmly cleaning its chamber. “Who?”

“The Fangs. Down by the meat stalls. They said Razor don’t like that you’re feeding people. Said you’re making him look weak.” Malik’s voice trembled with excitement more than fear. “I followed ‘em till they stopped.”

Tariq cursed. “Damn it. We knew this was coming.”

Jayden slid the pistol back together, movements smooth, precise. “Good work, Malik. Keep trailing them. But don’t get caught.”

Malik’s chest swelled at the praise, even as Tariq muttered, “He’s gonna get himself killed for you.”

But Jayden wasn’t blind. He saw what Tariq feared. Malik’s loyalty was fire, but fire burned bright before it burned out.

Still… fire was useful.

That night, as rain lashed the corrugated roofs, Jayden sat alone, listening to the water drip like ticking clocks. His thoughts drifted back to Zuri—her thin frame clutching bread, her forced smile. Every move he made now wasn’t just for him. It was for her.

And now Malik.

The burned boy’s face haunted him, not because of the scars, but because of the faith. In a world where everyone betrayed, Malik looked at him as though betrayal was impossible. That weight was heavier than any gun.

Tariq joined him, lighting a cigarette. “Kid’s getting under your skin.”

Jayden didn’t answer.

“You’re building an army out of bread and orphans. That doesn’t last, Jay. One bullet ends a boy like that. Then what?”

Jayden’s jaw tightened. “Then I burn the world that fired it.”

Tariq shook his head, smoke curling into the damp air. “You sound more like Razor every day.”

Jayden’s silence was colder than the rain.

By morning, Malik proved his worth again.

“Boss!” He came sprinting in, clutching a ragged notebook. “I stole this off one of Razor’s boys. They’re keeping names. People who take your bread, people who whisper your name. They’re watching them all.”

Jayden snatched the notebook, flipping through its pages. Dozens of names. Families. Children. Even Zuri. His blood froze.

Razor wasn’t just watching him. He was poisoning his legend, making every mouth he fed into a target.

Tariq cursed under his breath. “It’s a setup. He’s waiting for you to make a move, then he’ll slaughter them all and pin it on you.”

Jayden’s hands trembled as he closed the notebook. His empire of bread had turned to ash in a single page.

But then he looked at Malik.

The boy’s eyes burned with something wild. Not fear rage.

“Boss,” Malik whispered, fists clenched. “They can’t take this from us. Not what you gave. Not what you promised. Tell me what to do. I’ll do it.”

Jayden’s chest tightened. This wasn’t a soldier. This was a believer.

And belief could start wars.

He leaned down, speaking low, sharp. “Then listen, Malik. From this day, you’re my eyes in every shadow. You hear Razor’s name, you bring it to me. You see his men, you mark them. You don’t sleep, you don’t stop, you don’t break. Understand?”

Malik nodded fiercely. “Forever.”

Forever.

That night, as lightning split the sky, Jayden felt something shift. For the first time since the knives, since the blood, since Zuri’s hunger… he wasn’t just a ghost crawling through alleys. He was a name carried by whispers. He was the hand that fed. He was the shadow that burned.

And now, at his side, stood a boy who had nothing left to lose, and therefore everything to give.

The burned boy had become more than a survivor.

He had become the spark of a revolution....

As Jayden tightened his grip on the notebook of names, a single thought stabbed through the storm: if Razor already had Zuri’s name, then every move from here on wasn’t just survival. It was war.

And in that war, Malik would either rise as his blade… or die as his proof.