The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 37

The grand hall of the Mackin family mansion was filled with the soft murmur of voices, the room illuminated by the glow of chandeliers hanging overhead. The family had gathered—some out of loyalty, others out of obligation. They had seen what had become of Bruno, and they knew the tides had shifted. Mackin Jones was in control now, and no one dared to challenge him openly.

Jones entered the hall, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. He walked with purpose, his gaze sweeping over the gathered family members. There were those who met his eyes with respect, and others who looked away, unwilling to confront the reality of the new order.

At the head of the room, an ornate chair—one that had belonged to his father, and before that, his grandfather—stood empty. It was the seat of power, the symbol of the family’s legacy. And today, it would be his.

Wood Mackin, one of the eldest members of the family, stood up from his seat, his expression solemn. He was one of the few who had supported Jones from the beginning, recognizing the strength and leadership that Mackin brought to the table.

“The time has come,” Wood said, his voice echoing through the hall. “Mackin Jones, you have proven yourself as the rightful heir to this family. You have restored the honor and power that we once lost. Today, we recognize you as the leader of the Mackin family.”

The room was silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone present. Jones stepped forward, approaching the seat that had once been denied to him. He placed his hands on the back of the chair, his gaze steady as he looked out at the family members.

For years, he had been cast aside, humiliated, betrayed by those who were supposed to protect him. But now, he stood above them all, stronger, more powerful than they had ever imagined.

Without a word, he sat down, the chair creaking slightly as he leaned back. The symbolism was clear. The reign of Mackin Jones had begun.

Wood raised a glass, his voice strong. “To Mackin Jones, the new leader of the Mackin family!”

The room echoed the toast, though some voices were more hesitant than others. Glasses clinked, and the murmur of conversation resumed, but all eyes remained on Jones.

As the ceremony unfolded, Jones remained silent, his mind already turning to the future. He had won control of the family, but there was still more to do. Alliances to forge, enemies to neutralize. His power was secure, but only for now. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that power was never permanent.

As the evening wore on, a familiar figure approached the table—Jacqueline, Drake’s mother. Her face was pale, her expression guarded. She had always been a quiet presence, standing behind Bruno and Drake, never drawing too much attention to herself. But now, she stood before Mackin, her eyes flickering with something between fear and desperation.

“Jacqueline,” Jones said evenly, his gaze locked on hers.

She swallowed, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of the table. “Mackin, I know we’ve never been close. But I need to speak with you.”

Jones tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “About what?”

She hesitated, glancing around the room before lowering her voice. “About Bruno... and about Drake.”

Jones’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. “Go on.”

Jacqueline stepped closer, lowering her voice even further. “There are things you don’t know, Mackin. Things Bruno kept hidden. And Drake... he won’t stop. He’ll come after you again, even if it means destroying himself in the process.”

Jones’s gaze hardened. “Drake is finished. He’s broken.”

Jacqueline shook her head, her voice shaking. “You don’t understand. Drake has nothing left to lose now. That makes him more dangerous than ever. And Bruno... he was planning something before he fell. Something that could still ruin everything.”

Jones leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He had thought the war was over, but now, it seemed there were still battles to be fought. Battles he hadn’t even seen coming.

“What was Bruno planning?” Jones asked, his voice calm but edged with steel.

Jacqueline’s eyes darted around the room once more before she spoke. “It’s not just about you. It’s about the entire family. Bruno had connections—powerful ones. He was planning to use them to take over, to seize control of the city itself. And those connections... they’re still out there.”

Jones’s jaw tightened, the weight of her words sinking in. This wasn’t over. Not yet.

Jacqueline leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “You have enemies, Mackin. Ones that even you can’t see yet.”

Jones’s eyes flickered with cold determination. “Then I’ll find them.”

The night was far from over.

Jacqueline’s warning lingered in the air like the faint scent of smoke after a fire, her eyes wide with fear as Mackin Jones processed her words. There were hidden threats, shadows looming beyond the family’s reach—remnants of Bruno’s empire that still needed to be dismantled. Mackin had anticipated resistance, but if what she said was true, this went beyond a simple power struggle within the family.

“Who are these connections?” Jones asked, his voice low and measured. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of the chair, the only sign of the tension beginning to coil within him.

Jacqueline’s gaze darted around the room, as if fearing that merely speaking the names aloud would summon their wrath. “Bruno had deals with men outside the family. Politicians, business leaders, underground players. He kept it hidden, even from me... but I overheard enough. These people—they aren’t loyal to the Mackin family. They’re loyal to their own greed. And now that Bruno is gone, they’ll want their pound of flesh.”

Jones’s eyes narrowed, his mind spinning through the possibilities. Bruno had always been a master of manipulation, pulling strings behind the scenes, but this was a revelation he hadn’t fully prepared for. If Bruno had external allies, they could be a significant threat. People like that didn’t care about family loyalty—they cared about power. And without Bruno to control them, they might become dangerous rogue elements.

“What do they want?” Jones pressed, leaning forward slightly.

Jacqueline swallowed hard, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “They want control. Of the city, of the Mackin family’s resources. Bruno promised them influence—money, leverage in the government. They’re not going to walk away just because Bruno is gone. If anything, they’ll come harder, thinking you’re vulnerable.”

Jones’s eyes darkened, but he remained outwardly calm. “They’ll learn quickly that I’m not Bruno. If they try to move against me, they’ll regret it.”

Jacqueline shook her head, a tremor in her voice. “You don’t understand, Mackin. These people don’t operate in the open. They’re untouchable in the eyes of the law. If you go after them, they’ll bury you.”

Jones leaned back, his jaw tightening. “Then I won’t go through the law.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Jacqueline, pale and trembling, seemed to realize just how far Mackin was willing to go. She had come here, not out of loyalty, but out of survival. She knew her son, Drake, was beyond redemption, and she feared what would happen if Mackin turned his full attention on the enemies Bruno had left behind.

“There’s one man you need to worry about,” she said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “His name is Castor Lachlan. He’s... well-connected. Bruno did a lot of dirty work for him—money laundering, intimidation, bribes. He’ll come for you, Mackin, and when he does, he won’t stop until he’s taken everything.”

Jones’s face remained unreadable, but his mind was already calculating. Castor Lachlan. He had heard the name before—whispers in the underworld, rumors in the business community. Lachlan was a man who operated in the shadows, rarely showing his hand but always holding power where others didn’t see it.

“Where is Lachlan now?” Jones asked, his voice hardening.

Jacqueline hesitated, her fear palpable. “I don’t know. He keeps his location secret, moves constantly. But I do know that he’s watching you. He’s been watching ever since you took Bruno down.”

Jones stood, his presence towering over Jacqueline. The time for subtlety had passed. If Lachlan wanted a war, Jones would give him one—on his own terms.

“Thank you for the warning, Jacqueline,” Jones said, his voice cold but not unkind. “Now go back to Drake. Tell him to stay out of my way. He’s finished.”

Jacqueline rose from her chair, visibly shaken. She looked at Jones for a moment longer, her lips parted as though she wanted to say something more. But whatever words had been on her tongue died there. She simply nodded and left the room, leaving Mackin alone with his thoughts.

Later that night, the Mackin mansion was quiet, the weight of the day’s events settling into the bones of the house. Jones sat in his study, a glass of bourbon in his hand, his mind turning over everything Jacqueline had said. Castor Lachlan was the next obstacle—one that couldn’t be dealt with through conventional means.

Lambo entered the study without knocking, a sign of the long-standing trust between him and Jones. He approached the desk, his expression grim.

“You heard about Lachlan?” Lambo asked, leaning against the edge of the desk.

Jones nodded, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I had my suspicions Bruno was involved with someone like him, but I didn’t have confirmation until now.”

Lambo crossed his arms. “Lachlan’s not just another businessman. He’s dangerous. If he’s got it in for you, we need to move carefully.”

Jones set the glass down, the liquid catching the light as it swirled in the tumbler. “Careful doesn’t win wars, Lambo. We’re going to hit Lachlan where it hurts.”

Lambo raised an eyebrow. “And where would that be?”

Jones leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with cold intent. “His money. Bruno handled his finances. If Lachlan’s as connected as Jacqueline says, he’s hiding a lot of dirty cash in offshore accounts, front companies, the works. We find his money, we control him.”

Lambo gave a low whistle. “Going after his money will piss him off.”

Jones smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Good. I want him angry. I want him reckless. He’ll make mistakes if he’s desperate. And when he does, we’ll be ready.”

Lambo straightened, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “I’ll start digging. We’ve got a few contacts in the Caymans who might be able to pull some strings.”

Jones nodded, his mind already moving several steps ahead. “Do it. And Lambo—make sure this stays quiet. Lachlan can’t know we’re coming for him until it’s too late.”

Lambo gave a sharp nod, already heading for the door. “Consider it done.”

As Lambo left the room, Jones leaned back in his chair, his thoughts turning darker. Lachlan was a threat, but he wasn’t invincible. Jones had spent years dismantling enemies far more powerful than this shadowy figure. He had clawed his way back to the top, and he wasn’t about to let someone like Lachlan stand in his way.

The phone on his desk buzzed, and Jones glanced at the screen. It was a message from an unknown number. He frowned, picking up the phone.

The message was simple, but chilling.

You’ve stepped into a game you don’t understand, Mackin. Lachlan won’t stop until you’re crushed. This is your last warning.

Jones stared at the message for a long moment, his face expressionless. He knew it had to be from Lachlan or one of his people. The game had begun in earnest, and the stakes were higher than ever.

Jones set the phone down and finished his drink, the warmth of the bourbon spreading through him as he gazed out the window at the city below. Lachlan thought he could intimidate him with threats, with whispered warnings in the dark.

He was wrong.

Mackin Jones didn’t bend to fear. He was the fear.

The next morning, Jones was already up before dawn, the remnants of his plan from the previous night forming a clear path in his mind. The city outside was still quiet, the streets empty as the first light of day began to creep over the horizon.

Jones dressed quickly, his movements sharp and precise, like a man ready for battle. Today would be the beginning of the end for Castor Lachlan.

As he descended the grand staircase, Lambo was already waiting by the front door, his face set in determination. “Our guys in the Caymans came through,” he said, holding up a folder thick with documents. “We found Lachlan’s accounts.”

Jones took the folder, flipping through it quickly. Offshore accounts, shell corporations, and a paper trail leading back to Lachlan’s empire of influence. This was what he needed. Lachlan’s power came from his wealth, and now, Jones had a way to cut him off at the knees.

“This is just the beginning,” Jones said, handing the folder back to Lambo. “We’re going to dismantle everything he’s built. Piece by piece.”

Lambo grinned, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’m ready when you are, boss.”

Jones stepped outside, the cool morning air hitting his face as he gazed out at the city. The skyline gleamed in the distance, a symbol of the power he had fought so hard to reclaim.

But power wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Now, it was about control. About destroying anyone who dared to challenge him.

Jones’s voice was calm, but there was a steel edge to it as he spoke.

“Let’s go to work.”