The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 41

The early morning light streamed through the windows of Mackin’s office, casting long shadows on the polished wood floor. He sat in silence, the city waking beneath him.

The weight of the recent confrontation with Marcus Wren still hung heavy in the air. Yet, as the sun rose higher, there was no sense of victory, only the stillness that followed a storm.

Mackin glanced at the flash drive on his desk, the small object containing the vast web of Wren’s hidden empire. It was a tool he could use to tear down the remnants of The Raven’s influence. But more than that, it was a reminder of just how close he had come to losing everything.

The door to his office opened, and Lambo stepped inside, his face lined with exhaustion but his posture as sharp as ever. “Cleanup’s done,” he said quietly. “No trace of us left at Wren’s estate. It’ll look like a professional hit—one of his enemies settling old scores. The authorities won’t be able to trace it back to us.”

Mackin nodded, his eyes still fixed on the flash drive. “Good. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

Lambo moved closer, lowering himself into the chair across from Mackin. “You should take a break, boss. Get some rest. You’ve been pushing hard for weeks now.”

Mackin let out a low breath, leaning back in his chair. Rest? It was a tempting idea, but there was no rest for a man like him. Not now, not ever. “Rest will have to wait,” Mackin said, his voice firm. “Wren might be dead, but the game isn’t over.”

Lambo frowned, leaning forward slightly. “What do you mean?”

Mackin’s eyes flicked to the flash drive again. “There’s more at play here than we realised. Wren wasn’t just another power-hungry businessman. He was a cog in a much larger machine. Someone else was behind him, pulling the strings.”

Lambo’s brow furrowed, but he remained silent, letting Mackin continue.

“The Raven might be gone,” Mackin said, his voice quiet but intense, “but whoever helped him build that empire is still out there. They know things—about me, about the Mackin family. Wren wasn’t working alone.”

Lambo sat back, his expression thoughtful. “You think there’s another player in this? Someone bigger?”

Mackin nodded slowly. “Wren’s plan was too well thought out. He had too many resources, too much information. No one man could have orchestrated all of that. Someone else has been watching from the shadows.”

Lambo’s face darkened as he absorbed the weight of Mackin’s words. “So what’s the move? We take down Wren’s network, piece by piece.”

Mackin’s gaze shifted to the city beyond the window, his mind already working through the next steps. “We dismantle his empire, yes. But more than that, we need to flush out the people who supported him. The ones who think they’re safe now that Wren is gone. They’ll come for us eventually, but we’ll be ready.”

Lambo nodded, a grim smile crossing his face. “I’ll put the word out. Start applying pressure. People will start talking.”

“Good,” Mackin said, his voice edged with steel. “And I want you to dig into Wren’s finances. There might be hidden connections we’ve missed. Anyone tied to Wren is a potential threat, and we can’t let them regroup.”

Lambo stood, ready to set the plan in motion. “We’ll crush them before they can make their next move.”

Mackin watched as Lambo left the room, the door closing softly behind him. The weight of leadership settled back on his shoulders, heavy and familiar. He had clawed his way to the top, but the truth was, it was lonely up here. The higher he climbed, the fewer people he could trust.

His enemies might be silent for now, but they were always out there, waiting for their moment. He had learnt that lesson the hard way. Trusting too much, believing in alliances that could turn against him with the right pressure.

For a moment, Mackin allowed his mind to drift back to his family—his parents, who had fought their own battles to keep the Mackin empire intact. They had tried to shield him from the darker sides of power, but in the end, they couldn’t protect him from the brutal reality of their world. The Mackin legacy was built on survival, and survival meant being the last one standing.

He had inherited their strength and their cunning, but he had also inherited their enemies.

Later that day, Mackin stood in front of a wall-length window in one of the Mackin family’s newest acquisitions—an exclusive high-rise overlooking the heart of the city. The skyline spread out before him, a patchwork of steel and glass that glimmered in the afternoon sun. The office was sleek and modern, a symbol of the power he had consolidated since Bruno’s downfall. But as Mackin stood there, he knew that power was fragile. There was always someone ready to take it from you.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. He checked the screen. It was Lambo.

“We’ve got something,” Lambo said without preamble. “One of Wren’s top lieutenants just turned. He’s ready to talk.”

Mackin’s pulse quickened. “Where?”

“He’s holed up in one of the old safehouses on the west side. Says he’s got information on Wren’s backers. It’s legit, Mackin. He’s scared. Real scared.”

Mackin’s eyes narrowed. Fear made men dangerous, but it also made them reckless. “Set up a meeting. I’ll be there in an hour.”

Lambo hesitated for a moment. “You think it’s safe? This guy could be setting us up.”

“I know,” Mackin said quietly, “but it’s a risk we have to take. If he has real intelligence, we need to act fast.”

Lambo sighed. “Alright. I’ll make the arrangements.”

As the call ended, Mackin’s mind began to race. This was the break he needed—the key to unlocking the next phase of his war against Wren’s allies. If this lieutenant had information, it could expose the hidden players who had been manipulating events from the shadows.

But Mackin knew better than to trust anyone outright, especially now. Too many people wanted a piece of what he had built. Too many people saw him as a stepping stone to their own ambitions.

He left the highrise and made his way to the west side of the city, where the old safehouses were located. These safehouses had once belonged to his father, relics of an older time when the Mackin family had ruled the city with an iron fist. Now, they were used for meetings like this—private, secure, away from prying eyes.

When Mackin arrived, Lambo was already there, waiting by the entrance. His face was tense, but there was a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes. “He’s inside. Says he’s got names, locations, everything.”

Mackin nodded and motioned for Lambo to lead the way. As they entered the safehouse, the air was thick with the musty scent of dust and old wood. It had been years since this place had seen regular use, but it still felt like home—a hidden sanctuary in a city full of enemies.

Inside, they found the man sitting at a small table, his hands shaking as he nursed a glass of whisky. He was thin, gaunt, his face lined with fear. His eyes darted nervously towards the door as Mackin entered, his fingers gripping the glass so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“You’re Mackin Jones,” the man stammered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

Mackin stepped forward, his presence towering over the man like a dark cloud. “You said you had information. I’m here to hear it.”

The man swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to Lambo, then back to Mackin. “I do. I swear. Wren... Wren wasn’t the real power behind everything. He was just a middleman—a facilitator. There’s someone else, someone bigger.”

Mackin’s jaw tightened, his mind racing. “Who?”

The man’s voice dropped to a whisper, as though saying the name out loud would summon a ghost. “Carmine Santoro.”

Lambo’s eyes widened, and even Mackin couldn’t hide his surprise. Carmine Santoro was a legend in the criminal underworld, a name that carried more weight than most politicians in the city. He had been untouchable for years, operating behind the scenes, never getting his hands dirty. If Santoro was involved, it meant this war was far from over.

“He was funding Wren,” the man continued, his voice shaky. “He’s been building an empire of his own—quietly, out of sight. But now that Wren’s dead, he’s going to make his move. And you’re in his way.”

Mackin felt a cold rush of understanding. Santoro had been waiting, biding his time, using Wren as a puppet while he expanded his own influence. Now that Wren was gone, Santoro would step into the light, ready to challenge Mackin’s control over the city.

“How do I find him?” Mackin asked, his voice low and dangerous.

The man hesitated, his fear evident. “I don’t know exactly. Santoro... he doesn’t show his face. But he’s got people. Powerful people. They’ll come for you.”

Mackin stepped closer, his eyes burning with intensity. “You’re going to tell me everything you know. Every detail, every contact, every safehouse. If you hold anything back, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The man nodded frantically, his fear overwhelming him. “I will. I will. Just... don’t let Santoro find me. He’ll kill me if he knows I talked.”

Mackin straightened, his expression cold and calculating. “If you give me what I need, I’ll make sure Santoro never touches you. But if you try to play me, you won’t have to worry about him.”

The man nodded again, his eyes wide with terror. “I won’t. I’ll tell you everything.”

Mackin turned to Lambo, his mind already shifting to the next phase of the plan. “Get him somewhere safe. We’ll need time to process what he gives us.”

Lambo nodded, motioning for the man to follow him out of the safehouse.

As they left, Mackin stood alone in the dimly lit room, his thoughts heavy with the weight of what was to come. Carmine Santoro was a name that carried more danger than even The Raven. Santoro’s network was vast, his influence deeply embedded in both the criminal world and legitimate business. Taking him down wouldn’t just be a battle—it would be a war.

But Mackin had come too far to stop now.

The shadows of the past were creeping closer, threatening to unravel everything Mackin had built. But if Santoro wanted a war, Mackin would give him one.

And he would make sure that, in the end, it was Santoro who fell.