Rise of the Street King

Chapter 81 — Cracks in the Crown

The rain came that morning like judgment slow, heavy, and endless. It ran off the rooftops and into the cracked streets, washing away the blood from last night’s raid but not the stain it left behind. Jayden stood by the window of the safehouse, watching the gray pour as if it could tell him what he didn’t want to say aloud.

He’d lost more than a warehouse. The raid had gutted one of his major cash lines shipments disguised as scrap metal, washed through shell accounts and back into the slums as payroll, protection money, and bribes. Without it, whole corners were unpaid, suppliers were nervous, and whispers started before dawn.

“Two nights,” Malikah said behind him. “That’s how long before half the boys start asking who feeds them next.”

Jayden didn’t turn. “They won’t ask if they’re reminded who owns the streets.”

Malikah crossed her arms. “And you’ll remind them with what? We’re bleeding money, and the cops are hitting fronts faster than we can cover. Fear works, Jay, but hunger speaks louder.”

He finally turned, his face carved in shadow. “You think I don’t know that?”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t back down. “Then fix it before it fixes you.”

Stone entered then, dripping rain, his voice low. “Word on the street is Razor’s been feeding the press. He’s selling them ‘exclusive statements’ your name tied to every hit, every death. He’s got the cops chasing shadows, and we’re the only ones standing in the light.”

Jayden’s fingers drummed the window ledge. Razor’s move was smart too smart. Every story pushed him closer to being seen as a criminal instead of a protector. The line between outlaw and ruler was thin, and right now, it was snapping.

Later that afternoon, Malikah walked into his office holding a folded newspaper. She slapped it down on the desk. The headline screamed:

“INSIDE THE WARLORD’S REIGN - POLICE INVESTIGATE MURDER OF DETECTIVE RUFUS ADENIYI.”

Beneath it, a photograph blurry but unmistakable showed a man in Jayden’s colors near the detective’s burned-out car.

Jayden’s eyes narrowed. “That photo’s old.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Malikah said. “The story’s new. They’re tying you to it now.”

He felt something cold bloom in his chest. Detective Adeniyi the man who had been closing in months ago, before vanishing under suspicious circumstances. Jayden had ordered a shadow operation to “discredit” him, not to kill. At least that was what he’d believed.

“Who handled that job?” he asked quietly.

Malikah hesitated. “You told me to leave it to the inner circle. Tariq’s old team handled the cover.”

Jayden’s gaze sharpened. Tariq again. The ghost who refused to stay buried.

The news spread like wildfire. Every hour brought a new rumor that Jayden had assassinated a cop, that the detective had left evidence naming him, that the Council was preparing to disown him. The press didn’t just write stories anymore; they built a mythology, painting Jayden as a dark god consuming his own kingdom.

By nightfall, his safehouse felt smaller, colder. The laughter that once filled its halls had been replaced with whispers that stopped when he entered. He could feel it the shift. His people still feared him, but they no longer believed he could win.

Malikah called a meeting with the lieutenants, trying to steady the cracks. Jayden stood at the back, listening as they argued.

One said, “We need to lay low, wait out the heat.”

Another spat back, “Wait and we lose territory. Razor’ll eat us alive.”

A third muttered, “Maybe it’s time we find a new base. Maybe even a new leader.”

Jayden didn’t speak at first. The room pulsed with their unease until his silence became heavier than their words.

“Anyone who thinks the crown is open,” he said finally, his voice calm but edged with death, “should try wearing it for a night. If you survive till morning, it’s yours.”

The murmurs died. None stepped forward.

After the meeting, Malikah followed him out into the rain-slick alley.

“You’re losing them,” she said softly.

He didn’t answer.

“They still fear you, but that’s all that’s left. And fear alone doesn’t build loyalty. You’ve got to give them something to believe in again.”

Jayden looked at her, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. “You want me to preach hope? I gave them streets, walls, safety. I gave them a flag to stand under.”

“Then remind them what that flag means,” she said. “Before someone else does.”

By the third day, the storm broke not from the sky, but from within.

News came that one of Jayden’s key lieutenants, Efe the Fixer, had been grabbed by police during a sweep near the docks. Efe was no fighter, but he knew things names, routes, passwords. The kind of knowledge that could sink an empire.

Jayden’s pulse slowed to a dangerous rhythm as the report came in.

“Who was with him?” he asked.

“No one,” Stone said grimly. “They cornered him. No fight, no warning. They knew exactly where to find him.”

A leak. Again.

Jayden’s mind flashed through possibilities a planted bug, a mole in the clerks, maybe even the same invisible hand that had guided the raid. It didn’t matter how; what mattered was that Efe was in custody.

“They’ll break him,” Malikah said quietly.

“Not if we move first.”

Jayden grabbed his coat.

“Jay

“I’m not sitting while they strip us from the inside,” he snapped. “Get the car ready.”

But before he reached the door, Stone blocked his path.

“This ain’t some corner bust,” Stone said. “They’ve got him under state hold. That means unmarked vans, no lawyers, no chance. You move now, you’ll walk into a trap.”

Jayden’s hands clenched. For once, he didn’t have an answer.

He turned away, pacing, the sound of rain echoing off the metal roof. He could feel his empire tightening around him like a fist every decision now felt like pulling a trigger with no idea who the bullet would hit.

Hours later, the update came through a coded line. Malikah listened first, her face hardening, then handed Jayden the phone.

A distorted voice whispered, “Your boy talked. Not names, not yet. But they’re working him. It won’t be long.”

The line went dead.

Jayden stared at the phone like it was a weapon he couldn’t disarm.

“They’re torturing him,” Malikah said.

He looked at her, his expression empty. “Then we get him out.”

“Jayden, no.”

Her voice cracked slightly the first real sign of fear she’d shown in months.

“They’ve baited you before,” she said. “They want you to act reckless. You go in there, they’ll have you on record, on camera, maybe dead.”

Jayden stepped closer, his tone colder than the rain outside. “He’s one of mine. I won’t let him die screaming while I hide in a room.”

She grabbed his arm. “And what if that’s exactly what they want?”

For a long moment, the only sound was the rain hammering the roof. Then Jayden pulled free.

“If they want me to move,” he said, “then I’ll make sure it’s a move they regret.”

That night, Jayden stood on the roof overlooking the slum. The city glowed beyond the haze towers glittering, streets humming, the divide between his world and theirs clearer than ever. He’d clawed his way from dirt to dominion, but now the foundation trembled. Every ally had a shadow, every victory left ghosts.

Malikah joined him silently, a cigarette glowing between her fingers.

“They’ll keep pushing,” she said. “Until something breaks.”

Jayden watched the lights below, voice low. “Then I’ll make sure it’s not me...

Hours later, Stone burst into the safehouse, breathless and soaked.

“They broke him,” he said. “Efe. He’s in the hospital barely breathing. They wanted names.”

Jayden’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And?”

Stone hesitated, eyes heavy. “He gave one before he blacked out.”

Jayden stared, waiting.

Stone exhaled. “Yours.”