Rise of the Street King

Chapter 71 — Beneath the Surface

The message still burned in Jayden’s head. Stop looking up. A threat? A warning? Or both? He had learned early that those with true power rarely showed their hand directly. They let whispers do the work. But now, with the city’s underbelly tied to politicians and bankers, he couldn’t afford to take chances.

And then there was Mama Nuru.

The matriarch had always been a figure of comfort to the streets feeding hungry mouths, shielding children from gangs, commanding respect with nothing more than a tilt of her head. Jayden had stood by her side in Council meetings, had even listened to her scold him like a wayward son. She was, in the minds of many, untouchable.

But Jayden had begun to notice the little things.

The way her deliveries slipped through police barricades without incident.

The way her networks seemed invisible to rival sabotage.

And most of all, the way her eyes darted whenever Razor’s name came up.

That night, Jayden gathered Malikah and The Burned Boy in the back of the warehouse. The map table was lit by a single hanging bulb, shadows stretching over their faces.

“She’s clean in the open,” Jayden said, voice low, “but no one’s that clean. Not in this city. I want her watched. Discreetly. No moves, no noise. Just eyes.”

Malikah frowned. “You’re talking about Mama Nuru. If you’re wrong

“If I’m wrong,” Jayden cut in, “we’ll know. If I’m right, and she’s been playing both sides, then the streets will burn worse than anything Razor could manage.”

The Burned Boy nodded without hesitation. His loyalty was quiet, unshakable. “I’ll put two of mine near her food warehouses. They’ll blend.”

Jayden leaned forward. “Not just warehouses. Her phone lines, her couriers, even the women carrying rice sacks through the markets. Plant bugs. Slip watchers into her kitchens. I want every whisper she breathes recorded.”

Malikah’s jaw tightened, but she gave a reluctant nod. “Fine. But tread light. The Council worships her. If they think you’re sniffing at her skirts, they’ll turn on you faster than Razor ever could.”

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The watchers went out.

For three days, nothing surfaced. Mama Nuru went about her business as if she had nothing to hide cooking in the public kitchens, laughing with vendors, paying off small-time officers to leave her deliveries alone. Her voice on the wiretaps was warm, maternal, harmless.

But Jayden didn’t relax.

On the fourth night, he sat in the dim office with headphones pressed to his ears, smoke curling from the ashtray beside him. The wire feed crackled with mundane chatter until suddenly

“you’ll get what you want. But it won’t be free.”

Jayden stiffened. The voice was Mama Nuru’s, low, measured. Not her usual sing-song tone.

Then another voice, male, gruff, unfamiliar. “Name the price.”

“Favor,” she said. “One I’ll call when the streets demand it. Until then, you bring me a body. That’s the exchange.”

The silence that followed felt like gunfire in Jayden’s chest.

A body.

Mama Nuru, the untouchable elder, asking for blood in exchange for a favor.

He pulled the headphones off, pulse hammering, and called Malikah into the office. She came in, saw his face, and froze.

“What?”

Jayden hit play.

The recording spilled out, Mama Nuru’s calm request chilling the room.

When it ended, Malikah’s hand covered her mouth. “She… she’s bargaining lives. Jayden, if this gets out

Jayden’s eyes narrowed. “It won’t get out. Not yet.”

“What are you thinking?”

He lit another cigarette, voice cold. “We keep watching. We follow this unknown man. Find out whose body she wants, and who’s paying the price.”

He exhaled smoke, shadows wrapping around him. “Mama Nuru might still be on our side. Or she might already be digging my grave. Either way…” He looked at Malikah. “…we’ll know soon.”

In the static of the next recording, the man’s voice returns: “Consider it done. By the week’s end, the body will be yours.”