The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 47

With Vito’s potential defection on the horizon, Mackin prepares to make his final move against Santoro. But as he closes in on his enemy, he realises that betrayal is lurking everywhere—even within his ranks.

The battle for control of the city reaches its most dangerous point, and Mackin must confront the reality that not everyone can be trusted.

The war for survival is about to claim its most powerful victim.

Mackin Jones could feel the weight of everything around him tightening like a noose slowly pulling taut. He had been in tough situations before—wars over territory, power, loyalty—but this felt different. The stakes weren’t just about control of the city anymore. They were about survival. His survival. As he stood in his office, looking over the city that had once bowed to his will, he knew the final confrontation with Carmine Santoro was close.

But betrayal was thick in the air.

Lambo entered the room, his face grim but determined. "Vito’s set to meet tonight," he said, his voice low. "Leone’s putting everything in motion. Santoro’s losing control of him."

Mackin didn’t respond immediately; his thoughts were far away. He stared out the window, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. If Vito was truly ready to betray Santoro, this would be the break Mackin needed. But every time he thought about it, a dark feeling crept over him. This war had cost him more than he was willing to admit, and now he couldn’t be sure who was still loyal and who had already sold out to Santoro’s growing shadow.

"Vito’s scared," Lambo continued, breaking the silence. "He’s been running Santoro’s operations for years, but he’s starting to see the writing on the wall. He’s looking for a way out before everything crashes down around him."

Mackin turned, his eyes locking with Lambo’s. “Do you trust him?”

Lambo hesitated, then shook his head. “No. But he’s desperate, and desperate men do stupid things. If we play this right, we can use him to bring Santoro down.”

Mackin’s expression remained cold, unreadable. “And if it’s a setup?”

Lambo’s jaw tightened. “Then we deal with it the same way we always do.”

The quiet tension in the room was almost suffocating. Mackin had built his empire by knowing when to trust and when to strike, but this time felt different. Santoro had proven to be a master at manipulation, a strategist who anticipated his enemies’ moves before they even knew what they were doing. Mackin knew he was walking into dangerous territory.

"Set the meet," Mackin said finally, his voice hard. "But make sure we’re ready. If Vito’s working both sides, we’ll take him out before he can make a move."

Lambo nodded, already pulling out his phone to make the arrangements. As he stepped out of the office, Mackin sat down at his desk, his mind racing. He had played this game too long to be reckless now, but the pressure was mounting, and every move felt like it could be the last.

That night, the air in the city felt thick with anticipation. It was unusually quiet, as if the streets themselves were holding their breath. Mackin’s convoy of black SUVs cut through the darkness, weaving towards the secluded warehouse on the waterfront where the meeting with Vito would take place. Mackin sat in the back of the lead vehicle, his thoughts as sharp as the gun tucked under his jacket.

Lambo sat beside him, silent but alert, his eyes constantly scanning the city streets as they passed. The tension between them was palpable. This was the moment they had been building towards for weeks. If Vito were for real, they’d gain a massive advantage. But if Vito was playing them, Santoro’s trap could spring shut before they even saw it coming.

“You sure about this?” Lambo asked, breaking the silence.

Mackin’s jaw clenched. “We don’t have a choice. Santoro’s tightening his grip. We need to make this move, or we’re finished.”

The SUV pulled up in front of the warehouse, its tires crunching over the gravel. The other vehicles came to a halt behind them, Mackin’s men stepping out in silence, guns at the ready. The night air was cold, the smell of saltwater heavy in the air as they approached the building.

Inside, the warehouse was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the floor as Mackin and his crew stepped inside. Vito was already there, standing in the centre of the room with a nervous look on his face. He was flanked by two of Santoro’s men, but there was a palpable fear in his eyes, the kind that couldn’t be faked.

“Mackin,” Vito said, his voice tight with anxiety as he stepped forward. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Mackin’s gaze was cold as he sized Vito up. “I came because you said you had something worth my time. You better not be wasting it.”

Vito swallowed hard, glancing nervously at the men around him. “I’m not. I’m done with Santoro. He’s losing control, and I don’t want to go down with him. I’ve got everything you need—details about his operations, his money, his security. You help me get out of this, and I’ll give you everything.”

Mackin stepped closer, his eyes boring into Vito’s. “Why should I believe you? For all I know, you’re just setting me up for Santoro.”

Vito’s eyes widened in panic. “No! I swear, Mackin. Santoro’s finished. He’s paranoid, turning on his people. He doesn’t trust anyone anymore, not even me. I’ve seen this happen before. He’s going to burn the whole thing down, and I’m not going to be around when it happens.”

Lambo watched closely from the side, his hand resting on his gun, ready to act if things went south. Mackin stared Vito down for a long moment, weighing the truth in his words. There was fear in Vito’s eyes, but Mackin had seen men lie with fear in their hearts before.

“If you’re lying, Vito, I’ll kill you myself,” Mackin said coldly. “But if you’re telling the truth, we’ll deal with Santoro together.”

Vito nodded quickly, sweat beading on his forehead. “I’m telling the truth, Mackin. You have my word.”

Mackin signalled to Lambo, who stepped forward and handed Vito a phone. “You’re going to use this to give us Santoro’s locations, his weak spots. If I find out you’ve held anything back, or if you even think about double-crossing us, you’re dead. Got it?”

Vito nodded, his hands trembling as he took the phone. “Got it. I’ll give you everything.”

As Mackin turned to leave, the tension in the room eased slightly, but there was still a sense of unease hanging in the air. Vito had made his move, but there was no telling whether Santoro was already one step ahead.

Back at the Mackin mansion, the atmosphere was tense. The meeting with Vito had gone off without a hitch, but Mackin couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong. Santoro had always been methodical, always thinking several moves ahead. Mackin knew that this wasn’t over yet.

Lambo stood near the desk, flipping through files and checking updates on their phones. “Vito’s info checks out so far,” he said. “He’s given us two of Santoro’s safehouses. We’ll hit them tomorrow; see what we can find.”

Mackin nodded but said nothing. His mind was elsewhere, running through possibilities, planning for contingencies. Santoro had let them strike before without putting up much of a fight. It was only a matter of time before the counterattack came.

The phone on Mackin’s desk rang, the shrill sound cutting through the tension in the room. He picked it up without hesitation.

“Jones,” he said curtly.

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a voice that chilled Mackin to the bone.

“Hello, Mackin,” said Santoro’s smooth, measured voice. “I hear you’ve been busy.”

Mackin’s grip tightened on the phone, his jaw clenched. “Santoro.”

There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. “I have to admit, you’re persistent. But you’re fighting a losing battle, Mackin. You’ve lost control of your people, and soon you’ll lose the rest.”

Mackin’s blood boiled. “You think you’ve won? I’m still here. And as long as I’m standing, you haven’t won anything.”

“You’re standing,” Santoro said, his voice eerily calm. “But for how long? How long do you think your men will stay loyal when they know the tide is turning?”

Mackin’s silence was deafening. He knew Santoro was trying to get in his head, but the truth of his words hit close to home. His men were already questioning his leadership, already feeling the weight of Santoro’s influence. The longer this war dragged on, the more doubt would creep in.

“I’ll see you soon, Mackin,” Santoro said, his voice dripping with confidence. “And when I do, I’ll be the one standing.”

The line went dead.

Mackin set the phone down, his heart pounding in his chest. Lambo looked at him, his expression tense.

“What did he say?” Lambo asked.

Mackin stared at the phone for a moment, then stood, his face hard and determined. “It’s not over,” he said, his voice cold as ice. “But we need to move fast. Santoro’s planning something big.”

Lambo nodded. “Then we take the fight to him.”

The next day, Mackin and his men prepared for an all-out assault on Santoro’s empire. They had the information Vito had provided, and they were going to use it to cripple Santoro’s operations once and for all. But as they geared up for the attack, a sense of dread hung over everything.

Mackin couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap.

The time for subtle moves and careful planning was over. It was time for war. The streets would run red, and when the dust settled, only one man would be left standing.