The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 43

The battle for the city continues to escalate as Mackin moves against Carmine Santoro, striking at the heart of his legitimate empire. But as the war unfolds, both men realise that they are locked in a deadly game of chess—one that will push them to the brink and force them to confront their deepest fears.

As Mackin’s campaign intensifies, Santoro begins to reveal his hidden power, threatening to unravel everything Mackin has built.

The true battle for control of the city is just beginning, and only one man will come out on top.

The tension in the air was palpable—the kind that suffocates just before a storm breaks. Mackin Jones could feel it in his bones, the electricity of war humming in the very core of his being. Santoro was unlike any adversary he had ever faced, and while Mackin had fought and won countless battles, this one felt different. It wasn’t just about territory or power—this was a test of survival. Two titans, circling each other, waiting for the right moment to strike.

As he sat in his private office, Mackin studied the reports Lambo had gathered on Santoro’s network. Each file painted a picture of a man who had built an empire quietly, without the brash displays of wealth or power that men like Bruno and Lachlan had favoured. Santoro was smart and meticulous. He had wormed his way into the legitimate side of the city’s economy, placing his assets in clean investments, making it hard to trace his wealth back to anything illegal.

“He’s woven himself into everything,” Lambo muttered, pacing the room. “Real estate, tech companies, even some political campaigns. This isn’t just a criminal network, Mackin. He’s built an empire that looks almost legitimate on the surface.”

Mackin nodded, but his mind was already two steps ahead. “That’s why we hit him where it hurts. He’s built his entire operation on the foundation of respectability. If we can expose the connections between his legal and illegal activities, he’ll lose everything.”

Lambo stopped pacing, turning to face Mackin. “We’ve started the process. The media’s going to eat up the story. It won’t be long before the cracks start to show.”

Mackin’s eyes darkened as he glanced at the file spread out on his desk. “Good. But we need to make sure we have enough leverage to take him down. Santoro’s been too careful. There’s something we’re missing.”

Lambo frowned. “What do you mean?”

Mackin leaned back in his chair, his gaze hard. “Santoro wouldn’t put all his eggs in one basket. He’s been building this empire for too long to let it fall apart so easily. There has to be a failsafe—a hidden piece of his network that we haven’t found yet.”

Lambo considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You’re right. We’ve seen only the surface. There’s something deeper we haven’t uncovered.”

Mackin stood, his mind racing as he formulated the next steps. “Then we need to dig deeper. Go beyond the obvious. We focus on his personal connections—family, and close associates. Anyone who might know where Santoro’s true power lies.”

Lambo smirked. “I know just the guy for the job. We’ll find Santoro’s weak spot.”

As Lambo left to set things in motion, Mackin remained in the office, the weight of the battle ahead settling on his shoulders. He knew that this war wouldn’t be won with brute force alone. It required strategy, precision, and patience—qualities that Santoro had in spades. But Mackin was no stranger to the long game. He had clawed his way to the top through sheer will, and he wasn’t about to let anyone take that from him.

In his penthouse overlooking the city, Carmine Santoro sat at his desk, the light from the setting sun casting a warm glow across the room. He sipped his wine slowly, his mind focused and calm. Despite Mackin’s recent moves, Santoro showed no signs of panic. He was a man who thrived on control, and control meant never showing fear.

Across from him, his trusted lieutenant, Vito, sat stiffly, waiting for instructions.

“They’ve started leaking the connections between our businesses and the offshore accounts,” Vito said, his voice laced with tension. “The media’s running with it.”

Santoro set down his glass, his expression unreadable. “Let them. Mackin thinks he can destroy me by exposing my financial network, but he’s forgotten one thing.”

Vito raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Santoro smiled, cold and calculated. “I control the narrative.”

Vito shifted uneasily. “Mackin’s making a lot of noise. He’s going public with this. The city’s going to be looking at you now.”

Santos’s eyes narrowed, but he remained composed. “Public perception can be bought. The media only reports what they’re paid to report. As long as we keep certain people on our side, Mackin’s little campaign will fail.”

Vito nodded, but the doubt lingered in his eyes. “And what about Mackin himself? He’s not going to stop. The more pressure we put on him, the harder he’ll come at us.”

Santoro’s smile faded, replaced by a deadly seriousness. “Mackin’s strength is also his greatest weakness. He’s always relied on brute force, on fear. But fear can only take you so far.”

He stood, walking slowly to the window, looking out over the city that he had controlled from the shadows for years. “Mackin is fighting an old war, using old methods. He doesn’t understand how things have changed.”

Vito frowned. “What are you planning?”

Santoro turned, his gaze cold and predatory. “We’re going to use Mackin’s greatest weapon against him.”

Vito tilted his head confused. “What do you mean?”

Santoro’s smile returned, sharp as a knife. “Mackin has built his entire empire on power—on the fear that his enemies have of him. But if we can show the world that Mackin Jones isn’t invincible and that he can be beaten, his entire empire will crumble.”

Vito nodded slowly, understanding. “We discredit him. Make him look weak.”

Santoro’s eyes gleamed. “Exactly. We don’t have to destroy him outright. We just have to show the city that he’s not the man they think he is. Once that seed of doubt is planted, the rest will fall apart on its own.”

Mackin sat in the back of the black SUV, his mind racing as they headed to a meeting with one of his oldest allies, a man named Vincent Leone. Leone had been a key player in Mackin’s rise to power, controlling a significant portion of the city’s underworld. But he had kept a low profile in recent years, staying out of the public eye and focussing on his legitimate businesses.

Lambo sat beside Mackin, flipping through the latest intelligence reports. “Leone’s been quiet for a while,” Lambo said. “You sure he’s going to want to get involved in this war?”

Mackin’s eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. “Leone owes me. He wouldn’t be where he is today if I hadn’t taken out his competition. He knows the stakes.”

As they pulled up to the large estate on the outskirts of the city, Mackin felt a sense of calm wash over him. Vincent Leone was a man who understood loyalty, a man who had survived in the cutthroat world of organised crime for decades. If anyone knew how to deal with someone like Santoro, it was Leone.

They were led into the mansion by one of Leone’s men; the dim lighting and antique décor gave the place a timeless, almost regal feel. Vincent sat in his study, a glass of scotch in his hand, his silver hair neatly combed back. He rose as Mackin and Lambo entered, his expression warm but cautious.

“Mackin,” Vincent said with a slight smile, extending his hand. “It’s been a while.”

Mackin shook his hand, nodding. “Too long, Vincent.”

They sat down, and for a moment, the room was filled with the quiet sound of ice clinking in glasses as the drinks were poured. But the tension in the air was undeniable.

“I heard about your little problem with Carmine Santoro,” Vincent said, his voice casual, though there was a sharpness beneath it. “He’s not the kind of man you want to be at war with.”

Mackin leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting Vincent’s. “I don’t have a choice. He made this personal when he backed Wren.”

Vincent nodded slowly. “I’ve stayed out of this fight for a reason, Mackin. Santoro’s smart. He doesn’t play the game like the rest of us. He’s patient. He lets his enemies destroy themselves.”

Mackin’s jaw tightened. “I know. That’s why I need your help.”

Vincent studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “What exactly are you asking for?”

Mackin didn’t hesitate. “I need information—connections to Santoro’s real network. We’ve hit his businesses, but he’s too well protected. There’s something deeper, something we haven’t found yet.”

Vincent took a sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing. “You’re asking me to go up against a man who has made sure he’s untouchable.”

Mackin’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’m asking you to level the playing field.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Vincent leaned forward, setting his glass down on the table. “There’s a place,” he said quietly. “A club, down by the docks. It’s where Santoro conducts his real business. Not the legitimate stuff—the kind of deals that keep his empire running.”

Mackin’s pulse quickened. “And you know this because?”

Vincent smirked. “Because I’ve been there. I’ve seen the kind of people Santoro deals with. Politicians, bankers, judges. If you want to hurt him, that’s where you start.”

Mackin’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”

Vincent’s smirk faded, his expression serious. “Because Santoro’s not just a threat to you, Mackin. He’s a threat to all of us. If he wins this war, none of us will have a place in this city.”

Mackin nodded, his mind already turning to the next move. “Then we hit him where it hurts.”

Later that night, Mackin stood in front of the dockside club, the neon lights flickering above the entrance, casting long shadows across the street. Inside, Santoro’s most trusted associates were conducting business, completely unaware that their sanctuary was about to be compromised.

Lambo stood beside him, his expression grim. “You ready for this?”

Mackin’s eyes were cold as he nodded. “Let’s send Santoro a message.”

They moved inside, silent and deadly, slipping through the dimly lit corridors as they made their way to the private rooms where the real deals were being made. As they entered the main room, Mackin could feel the tension in the air. The men seated at the long table were powerful, but they weren’t untouchable.

The moment they saw Mackin, panic spread like wildfire.

Mackin didn’t give them time to react. “Tell Santoro,” he said, his voice cold and commanding, “that I’m coming for him.”

As the men scrambled to leave, Mackin turned to Lambo. “This is just the beginning.”

Lambo nodded, his eyes gleaming with the anticipation of the fight ahead. “Let’s tear his empire apart.”