Rise of the Street King

Chapter 73 — The Ledger

By morning, the whispers had grown into voices, and by noon, they were shouts.

Jayden felt them before he heard them the shift in how men looked at Malikah, the hesitation in their voices when her name came up. She was no longer the anchor of his inner circle, no longer untouchable. She was a shadow creeping across the floor, drawing suspicion with every step.

It all broke during the meeting at the warehouse. Jayden had gathered his crew to talk revenue collections from the gambling dens, the cut from the merchants who had chosen his side. But before the first figure was even spoken, one of the lieutenants slammed a ledger down on the table.

It wasn’t Malikah who placed it there.

It was Eze, one of the younger lieutenants who had risen fast on blood and cunning. He looked at Jayden, then at the rest of the crew, his voice trembling with the thrill of the moment.

“This,” he said, stabbing a finger at the open page, “is Malikah’s writing. Her numbers. But the copy don’t match. The skim goes back months. And this here” he flipped a page, pointing at a line scrawled in faint red ink, “this is a transfer to Razor’s people. Proof. Right here.”

The room erupted. Shouts, curses, accusations thrown like knives. Men stood, chairs scraped, fists clenched.

Malikah shot to her feet, her eyes blazing. “That’s a forgery! You think I’d risk everything for Razor? You think after all these years I’d sell us out?”

“Looks like it,” Eze snarled back. “Your book, your hand. We lost men, lost money, and Razor gained ground. Who else could have fed him those routes?”

The Burned Boy bristled, half-drawing the blade at his side. “Watch your mouth.”

But Jayden raised a hand and silence, uneasy and trembling, rippled across the room. He pulled the ledger closer, staring at the ink. He knew Malikah’s handwriting; he’d seen it a thousand times. The loops of the letters, the rhythm of her strokes it was hers. And yet, something gnawed at him, something just off enough to leave doubt.

He looked up at her, searching her face for cracks. She stared back at him, jaw tight, eyes unflinching.

“Tell me the truth,” Jayden said, his voice low but carrying through the room. “Did you do this?”

The warehouse went still. Every man held his breath, waiting.

Malikah’s answer came like a shot of steel. “No. I never took a coin from us, and I never passed a damn thing to Razor. Someone planted that. Someone wants me gone.”

The men shifted, uneasy. Doubt wasn’t enough in this world. Proof was the only language that carried weight, and the book in front of them was damning.

“Boss,” one of the older lieutenants muttered, “if you let this slide, if you cover for her, how do we trust you ain’t blind to the rest of us bleeding?”

Another spat on the floor. “We can’t afford traitors, Jayden. Not now. Not when Razor’s burning us on all sides.”

Jayden’s pulse hammered in his ears. He knew the truth of their words perception was everything. If he looked weak, if he protected someone they thought guilty, his empire would fracture. But if he condemned Malikah without proof, he’d cut out his oldest blade, the one who had stood with him from the beginning.

He rose slowly, the weight of every eye in the room pressing on him.

“This ledger proves nothing,” he said, though even to his own ears, the words felt brittle. “But the suspicion is poison, and poison spreads. So Malikah will prove herself, or she will fall.”

Malikah’s voice cut through the murmurs. “I’ll prove it.”

Jayden turned to her, surprised.

She stepped forward, her fists clenched at her sides. “You want proof? Then I’ll take a crew and raid Razor’s border. His newest stash house the one near the canals. I’ll bring back the guns myself, with his men’s blood on them if I have to. That’ll show you where my loyalty lies.”

The room shifted again, men whispering, weighing her words. A raid was no small thing. If she succeeded, it would silence every tongue against her. If she failed… it would damn her forever.

Jayden studied her face. There was no fear in it, no hesitation. Just raw fury and defiance, the fire of someone who had built too much to let it be taken away.

“You’ll go,” Jayden said finally. His words carried like a sentence. “You’ll take who you need. And when you return, we’ll see the truth.”

The Burned Boy stepped forward immediately. “I’m with her.”

Malikah glanced at him, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes, then nodded once. “Good. I’ll need fighters who don’t doubt me.” She looked around the room, daring anyone to meet her gaze. A few men shifted, uneasy. A few looked away. But no one else spoke.

When the meeting broke, the crew dispersed in silence. The air between them was no longer brotherhood it was suspicion, sharp and cutting.

Jayden lingered in the warehouse long after the last man left. He held the ledger in his hands, staring at the red ink, the neat handwriting, the lines that looked like Malikah’s but tasted like poison.

He thought of her words, her defiance, her fire. He thought of the years she had stood beside him, the blood they had spilled together.

And still, doubt gnawed at him.

As the candles guttered low, he whispered to himself, not sure if it was hope or fear.

“Don’t let this be true.”

But deep down, he knew one way or another, the raid would tell him everything.