Rise of the Street King

Chapter 42: Blood Decision

Dawn came slow, crawling over the slums like a wounded animal. The rain had stopped sometime before, leaving the alleys slick, the air heavy with the stink of rot and wet iron. A pale light slipped through the cracks of the safehouse walls, weak and unforgiving.

Jayden hadn’t slept. He sat on the floor, back against the wall, blade resting across his knees. His eyes burned, his body ached, but his mind was sharper than ever. Today he would cut away the poison. Today he would prove to his crew, to himself that betrayal had no place beside him.

The door creaked. Malikah entered first, already awake, face hard and calm. She carried no smile, no hesitation. Her loyalty was her shield. Behind her, Tariq strolled in, yawning like it was any other morning. He wore his cocky grin, but there was something off in the corners of it like a man trying too hard to pretend.

Amara was already there, seated at the corner, shadowed in the dim light. She hadn’t spoken much since last night. She didn’t need to. Her eyes followed every movement, every shift, like she was measuring not just what would happen but how far it would echo.

Jayden rose. The knife in his hand glinted faintly. His voice was low, steady.

“This is the end of it. No more whispers. No more doubts. One of you has been feeding Razor. One of you wears brotherhood like a mask.”

Malikah lifted her chin. “You know where I stand.”

Tariq scoffed. “You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you? I can see it in your eyes. Might as well stab me now and be done with it.”

Jayden’s grip tightened on the knife.

“If I wanted you dead last night, you’d be cold already. But I gave you till dawn because I owed you that much.”

Tariq’s smile faltered. His eyes darted, just once, before settling back on Jayden. He leaned forward, voice sharp:

“You think I sold you out? Think about everything we’ve done. Every fight I stood by your side. Every time I took a hit so you didn’t. Does that sound like a traitor?”

Malikah spat to the side. “Sounds like someone buying trust before selling it.”

Tariq shot her a glare. “Funny, coming from a thief. How many purses did you cut before you found this crew? You’ve been a snake since birth.”

“Enough!” Jayden’s voice thundered, echoing against the thin walls. Silence fell again. His chest heaved. The knife trembled in his hand, not from fear but from the weight of what it meant.

He looked at Tariq, and for a moment, the memories drowned him. Nights on rooftops, counting stars they couldn’t name. Sharing stolen bread when hunger gnawed. Tariq’s arm dragging him through blood and fire in the market fight. The boy who once swore, “We’ll die brothers before we ever bow.”

But then came the ambushes. The poison. The stash raids. Razor’s uncanny precision. And last night’s proof the east block hit, information only Tariq had known.

Brotherhood or not, the knife inside had to be pulled.

Jayden stepped forward. His voice cracked like thunder in the small room.

“It was you.”

The words hit harder than any blade. Tariq froze, his smirk gone. His eyes flicked between Jayden, Malikah, and Amara, searching for some escape.

“You can’t prove it,” he hissed. “You can’t prove a damn thing.”

Jayden’s gaze didn’t waver. “Proof is the bodies Razor leaves behind. Proof is every brother buried because someone whispered in his ear. I gave you the chance to show me otherwise. You failed.”

Malikah’s knife was already half-drawn. Her jaw was tight, but there was no satisfaction in her eyes only fury.

Amara finally spoke, voice calm, almost sad. “He’s right, Tariq. The streets already judged you. Jayden’s just delivering the verdict.”

Tariq’s breath quickened. His swagger cracked, revealing the boy underneath the boy who was afraid to die. He slammed his hand on the table. “You’re wrong! Razor’s using someone else! Malikah Amara hell, maybe even you, Jayden. You think you’re untouchable, but he’s already inside your head. And when I’m gone, you’ll see

Jayden moved before the words finished. The blade flashed.

Tariq staggered, eyes wide, mouth opening like he still had more lies to spill. His hand went to his side, blood spreading fast. He looked at Jayden no smirk, no mask now, just betrayal and hurt.

“You… brother…” His knees buckled. The floor caught him.

Jayden stood over him, chest heaving, knife dripping red. His face was stone, but inside his ribs, something cracked and bled. Tariq was the first of his three. His brother in everything but blood. And now, his corpse lay at Jayden’s feet.

Malikah turned away, muttering a curse under her breath. Her loyalty was unshaken, but even she felt the cost.

Amara rose, stepping close to Jayden. She placed a hand lightly on his arm, not to comfort, but to ground him.

“This was the price,” she whispered.

Jayden looked down at Tariq’s body. His voice came out hollow.

“No. This was the cost of power.”

The rain began again, soft at first, then harder, drumming on the roof, washing blood across the floorboards.

Jayden sheathed his blade. He didn’t look back.

“Bury him deep,” he told Malikah. “No markers. No names. He chose his grave when he chose Razor.”

Malikah nodded, though her eyes were glassy.

Amara studied Jayden’s face, her expression unreadable. Perhaps pity, perhaps admiration. Or maybe she was just counting how many more deaths it would take before Jayden was nothing but a king of ghosts.

As Jayden stepped into the rain, his chest burned not from the fight, but from the hollow space Tariq had left behind.

The streets were quiet, but he knew they whispered.

Jayden Cole had killed his own brother.

And nothing would ever be the same.