Rise of the Street King

Chapter 55 — Counter-Strike

The radio voice still burned in Jayden’s skull. Priority one: Jayden Cole.

He hadn’t slept in two nights. He sat in the tailoring shop, elbows on his knees, watching the rain streak through the cracked windows. Malikah leaned against the wall, sharpening her dagger with steady strokes. The Burned Boy paced like a caged dog. The younger recruits whispered in corners, restless.

If they did nothing, Razor’s shadow would stretch wider. If they moved wrong, the cops would crush them before Razor even had to swing a blade.

Jayden finally lifted his head. “We hit him where it hurts.”

Malikah’s blade stopped mid-stroke. “You mean his convoy?”

Jayden nodded. “The supplier run. Razor’s men guard it like it’s their bloodline. Take it, and they bleed out.”

The Burned Boy grinned, teeth flashing. “Now you’re talking, King.”

Planning the Cut..

The table was littered with chalk marks and bottle caps for pieces. Jayden pushed them into position, voice sharp and precise.

“They move through the old train line. Four bikes up front, two trucks, another bike trailing. Razor doesn’t ride with them he saves himself for the feast.”

Malikah tapped a bottle cap. “Convoy like that isn’t soft. You want a small strike, you need clean timing.”

Jayden pointed to the Burned Boy. “You lead the block. Oil drums across the bridge, nothing fancy. When they stop, Malikah, you and I carve through the guards. Fast. No speeches. We strip what we can, burn what we can’t.”

“What about the cops?” a young recruit asked.

Jayden looked at him with steady eyes. “They won’t come. Not this far into Razor’s veins. This is shadow work.”

The room quieted. Every eye was on him. And in that silence, Jayden felt it they believed again.

The Waiting...

Night wrapped the city like a shroud. The abandoned bridge over the rusted rail line groaned under the weight of barrels rolled into place. The Burned Boy crouched low, face smeared with ash, hands trembling with excitement.

Malikah moved like smoke, sliding her daggers into position. Jayden stood in the shadows, machete drawn, listening for the hum of engines.

It came, soft at first then louder, like a swarm of angry wasps.

Headlights cut through the dark. Four bikes. Two trucks. One tail. Just as mapped.

Jayden raised his hand. The Burned Boy shoved the first barrel, then the second. The metal clanged, rolling across the road. The convoy screeched to a halt.

“Now,” Jayden whispered.

The Strike...

The Burned Boy lit a rag and tossed it. Flames whooshed up, painting the night in fire. The convoy’s lead bikes swerved, crashing into the barrels. Men shouted, guns cocked.

Jayden burst from the shadows like a blade. His machete flashed, splitting a guard’s arm before the man could raise his rifle. Malikah was beside him, two quick stabs dropping another.

The Burned Boy roared, swinging his pipe into a rider’s jaw, sending teeth scattering like dice. The younger recruits followed, wild but hungry, hacking with knives and sticks.

Bullets cracked. Sparks lit the metal trucks. Jayden rolled low, drove his blade through a man’s gut, and yanked it free in a spray of red.

“Open the trucks!” Malikah shouted.

A boy pried at the back latch. The doors swung open boxes stacked high, wrapped tight in brown paper. Guns. Ammo. Powder. Enough to keep Razor’s fangs sharp for months.

Jayden’s lips curled. “Burn half. Take the rest.”

The Capture...

As the fire chewed through crates, one man tried to crawl away, blood pouring from his leg. Jayden pinned him with his boot.

“Razor sent you?”

The man spat blood. “We… we don’t answer to Razor.”

Jayden pressed harder. “Then who?”

The captive coughed, choking on his words. “He… he’s just the front. The money new money comes from higher.”

Malikah crouched, dagger at the man’s throat. “Name it.”

The man’s eyes darted to the burning trucks, to the shadows pressing in. Fear cracked his voice.

“Council,” he muttered. “Not just them. One of their chairs. They… they pay him.”

The Burned Boy’s eyes widened. “Council’s backing Razor?”

The man shook his head violently, blood spattering his lips. “Not the whole Council. Just one. He feeds Razor, feeds the cops, feeds everyone who wants Jayden Cole dead.”

Jayden’s heart hammered. He leaned closer, voice like steel. “Whose name?”

The man’s lips trembled. He whispered it, barely audible under the crackle of flames.

And Jayden froze.

It was a name tied to the Council. A name he knew.

The fire roared higher. The Burned Boy’s grin faded. Malikah’s hand tightened on her blade.

Jayden’s crown of blood was no longer just Razor’s target.

The Council itself had begun to move....

The captured man mutters a Street Council name one Jayden recognizes revealing Razor has powerful backers.