Rise of the Street King

Chapter 4 – Deal with the Devil

The night smelled of rust and smoke. Jayden’s shirt was still damp with blood that wasn’t his. The boy he’d stabbed in Musa’s crew wouldn’t be getting up again. His knuckles trembled, not from fear, but from the weight of what he had done.

Ghost stood across from him, face hidden in the hood of his black jacket. His voice was gravel, calm but sharp.

“You’ve crossed the line, boy. Once you spill blood, there’s no walking back.”

Jayden spat on the cracked pavement. “What choice did I have? It was me or him.”

Ghost smirked, the faint shine of his teeth visible under the dim streetlight. “Exactly. That’s why I’m here. You’ve got the instincts. Raw. Wild. Unpolished. But if you keep fighting blind, you’ll be a corpse before the week ends.”

Jayden’s fists clenched. “So what? You gonna preach at me?”

“No.” Ghost leaned in, his breath reeking of smoke and cheap gin. “I’m gonna offer you a deal. You want power? You want respect? Then you need to earn your place. Under me.”

The words felt heavy. Jayden had heard whispers about Ghost the man no one saw until it was too late. A dealer in death. A shadow in the slums. Working with him was like signing a contract with the devil.

“And if I say no?” Jayden asked, testing him.

Ghost laughed. A cold, dead laugh that didn’t belong on these streets. “If you say no, then your body’s another stain on the concrete. Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not special. Not yet.”

The silence between them stretched, only broken by the crackle of far-off gunfire. Jayden thought of Hassan, the mechanic who looked out for him. He thought of his sister, too young to understand the filth of their world. He couldn’t die yet.

“What do you want from me?” Jayden finally asked.

Ghost’s eyes gleamed. “A test. Simple. You pull it off, you prove you’re worth the dirt under my boots. You fail… well, you won’t live to regret it.”

Jayden swallowed. “What’s the job?”

Ghost reached into his coat and tossed a folded paper onto the ground. Jayden bent down, unfolded it. His chest tightened. The paper was a rough sketch of a two-story building with broken windows, tagged with red spray paint across the shutters. He knew the place. Everyone in the slums did.

Razor’s stash house.

Ghost’s tone was casual, almost playful. “Break in. Take something that matters. Cash, product, anything. Don’t get caught. Don’t get killed. Do that, and you’re in.”

Jayden snapped his head up. “You want me to rob Razor?”

Ghost chuckled. “Not rob. Bleed him. You think Razor got to the top without killing, stealing, betraying? You want to rise, you start by hurting someone bigger than you. That’s how this world works.”

Jayden’s heart hammered in his chest. Everyone knew Razor. He ran half the slums, had eyes everywhere, men armed to the teeth. He wasn’t a man you crossed and lived to tell about it.

“You’re insane,” Jayden muttered.

“No,” Ghost said, stepping closer until they were face-to-face. “I’m giving you your chance. Power doesn’t wait. You either take it, or someone stronger takes it from you. That boy you killed tonight? He was nothing. Razor’s the real beast. If you can touch him and walk away, you’re ready for this life.”

Jayden wanted to say no. He wanted to walk away. But his mind replayed Musa’s laughter, the way they cornered him like a dog. He remembered the helplessness of being weak, of begging for mercy that never came.

This was the way out.

His jaw tightened. “When?”

Ghost grinned like he’d been waiting for that. “Tomorrow. Midnight. I’ll be watching.”

Jayden stared at the paper in his hand, the crude map burning into his skin. He felt the streetlights flicker above him, like even the city knew he had just made a choice that couldn’t be undone.

Ghost patted him on the shoulder with a grip that was more of a warning than comfort. “Don’t disappoint me, boy. Razor will kill you if he finds out. But if you succeed…” He leaned close, whispering in his ear, “…you’ll taste fear, power, and respect all in one night.”

And just like that, Ghost melted into the darkness, vanishing into the alleys as if the shadows had swallowed him whole.

Jayden was left alone, clutching the paper, sweat dripping down his temple despite the cool night air.

His stomach churned. Tomorrow, he’d either step into power… or straight into his grave.

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