The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 61

With Santoro dead, Nico steps into the power vacuum left behind, but the fight for control of the city is far from over. New challenges emerge as old enemies resurface and alliances shift in the wake of Santoro’s fall.

As Nico navigates the treacherous world of the underworld’s new order, he must decide what kind of ruler he will become. Will he build a new empire, or will the city’s ghosts come back to haunt him?

The war may be over, but the battle for the city has just begun.

The city was eerily silent after Carmine Santoro’s fall. The power vacuum left in his wake was palpable, hanging in the air like the smoke from the gunshot that had ended his reign. Word spread quickly: the king was dead, and Nico, the phantom who had haunted Santoro’s every step, had taken his throne.

But the city wasn’t celebrating—not yet. There was no time to mourn or rejoice. There was only uncertainty.

Nico stood in the centre of Santoro’s former office, the luxurious penthouse now feeling strangely empty, despite the opulence around him. The body had already been taken away, but the bloodstain on the floor remained, a stark reminder of the violence that had led him here.

Santoro had ruled this city through fear, through violence and manipulation. Now, Nico was faced with a decision. What kind of leader would he become?

Luis entered the room quietly, his face still tight with the tension of the night’s events. “It’s done,” he said. “Santoro’s men are already scattering. The ones who haven’t fled are looking for protection, trying to figure out who’s in charge.”

Nico nodded but didn’t speak. He was still processing the weight of what had just happened. He had won. Santoro was dead. But now, with the throne empty, there were bigger decisions to be made.

“The smaller crews are waiting to see what you’ll do,” Luis continued. “Some of them are already making moves to secure territory. If we don’t act fast, this city’s going to tear itself apart.”

Nico turned, his gaze hardening as reality set in. He had spent so long planning Santoro’s downfall, so long orchestrating the chaos that led to this moment, but now the real work was beginning. Taking the city was one thing. Holding it was another.

“We don’t have much time,” Nico said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “The city’s on the edge of chaos, and if we don’t move quickly, we’re going to lose everything we’ve worked for.”

Luis nodded. “What’s the plan?”

Nico exhaled slowly, his mind racing. “We secure Santoro’s key assets first. His money, his supply lines. Without those, the smaller factions will try to carve up the city for themselves. We need to show them that we’re in control.”

“And the lieutenants?” Luis asked. “Most of them were loyal to Santoro. They’re not going to just fall in line because you killed him.”

Nico’s eyes darkened. “Then we make them choose. Loyalty or death. They’ve seen what happens when they cross me. If they don’t join us, they get the same fate Santoro did.”

Luis didn’t argue. He had followed Nico this far, through every battle and every loss. And now, standing at the precipice of a new era, he knew that this was just the beginning.

By morning, the streets were buzzing with the news of Santoro’s death. The city was tense; the power struggle was already beginning to unfold. Smaller crews, once content to operate in the shadows, were now jockeying for position, hoping to claim a piece of the crumbling empire. But even as they moved, the ghost of Santoro’s reign lingered. Everyone knew that whoever controlled the heart of the city would control everything.

Nico and Luis wasted no time. They moved quickly, sending messages to Santoro’s former lieutenants, calling them to a meeting. Some came willingly, eager to save their skins. Others hesitated, unsure of what Nico’s rise to power would mean for them. But Nico knew one thing for certain: if he was going to hold this city, he needed their loyalty—or their bodies.

The meeting took place in one of Santoro’s old safehouses, a dimly lit warehouse on the edge of the industrial district. The atmosphere was thick with tension as the lieutenants filtered in, each one watching the others with suspicion, their loyalty to Santoro already wavering. They had come because they had no choice. With Santoro dead, the city was in flux, and they needed to know where they stood in the new order.

Nico stood at the head of the room, his expression cold and unreadable. Luis was by his side, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping the room, ready for any sign of trouble.

“Thank you all for coming,” Nico began, his voice calm but carrying an edge of authority. “As you know, Santoro is gone. The city is changing, and now you have a choice to make.”

The lieutenants shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke. They were waiting to see what Nico would offer.

“You’ve all been loyal to Santos for a long time,” Nico continued. “But that loyalty is no longer relevant. Santoro’s gone, and his empire belongs to me now. If you want to survive, you’ll join us. You’ll follow my lead. If not, you’ll meet the same fate he did.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Some of the lieutenants exchanged uneasy glances, while others stared straight ahead, their expressions hard. Nico’s words were clear: loyalty or death. But the question was whether these men—men who had lived and died by Santoro’s command—would be willing to follow someone new.

One of the lieutenants, a man named Rocco who had been one of Santoro’s closest advisors, stepped forward. His face was grim, his eyes calculating. “You killed Santoro. That makes you strong. But strength alone won’t hold this city. What makes you think we should follow you?”

Nico’s gaze didn’t waver. “I killed Santoro because he was weak. He ruled through fear, but fear doesn’t last forever. People get tired of being afraid. They look for something else. And right now, they’re looking at me.”

Rocco’s eyes narrowed. “And if we refuse?”

Nico’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Then you’re next.”

The room was deathly silent as Nico’s words sank in. He wasn’t bluffing. He had taken down Santoro, and he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to anyone who stood in his way. The lieutenants knew they were out of options. Santoro was gone, and there was no one else to turn to.

Slowly, one by one, the lieutenants began to nod. They didn’t like it, but they understood the reality of the situation. In this city, power was everything, and right now, Nico was the one holding it.

Rocco gave a short nod, though his eyes still gleamed with something dangerous. “Alright. We’re with you. For now.”

Nico’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

The days that followed were a whirlwind of action as Nico and his crew moved to consolidate their power. Santoro’s assets were quickly seized, his money laundered through new channels, and his supply lines restructured under Nico’s control. The smaller crews, seeing the writing on the wall, either fell in line or were crushed. The city was volatile, but it was slowly beginning to fall under Nico’s rule.

But with power came new challenges. The cracks in Santoro’s empire had left the city fractured, and while Nico was making moves to hold it together, he knew that the ghosts of the past still lingered. Santos’s death had created a void, and in that void, old enemies and new rivals were beginning to emerge.

Luis stood with Nico in the office of one of Santoro’s former strongholds, looking over the maps and plans that now lay scattered across the desk. “We’ve taken most of Santoro’s key operations,” Luis said, his voice calm but laced with caution. “But there’s still unrest. Some of the smaller crews are testing our strength. And we’ve heard rumours that a few of the old guard—guys who were loyal to Mackin—are thinking about making a move.”

Nico’s eyes flickered with interest. “Mackin’s men?”

Luis nodded. “They’ve been keeping low since you took down Mateo, but now that Santoro’s out of the picture, they’re thinking about coming back.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. Mackin Jones’ ghost still haunted the city, even after all these years. Nico had spent most of his life fighting to break free of Mackin’s legacy and carve out his place in the city. Now, with Santoro gone, it seemed that Mackin’s shadow still lingered, casting doubt over Nico’s claim to the throne.

“They won’t get far,” Nico said finally. “If they make a move, we take them out. I won’t let anyone challenge me. Not now.”

Luis gave a small nod. “Understood. But we need to be careful. The city’s still on edge. One wrong move and we could lose everything.”

Nico knew Luis was right. The city was fragile, and one misstep could send everything spiralling out of control. But Nico had spent too long in the shadows, too long watching from the sidelines as others ruled. He wouldn’t let anyone take this from him—not Mackin’s old guard, not Santoro’s remnants, not anyone.

“We stick to the plan,” Nico said, his voice firm. “We tighten our grip on the city. We take control of every corner, every piece of Santoro’s empire. And if anyone gets in our way, we take them out. No hesitation.”

Luis nodded, though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. “And after that?”

Nico turned his gaze as hard as stone. “After that, we rebuild.”

But as the days wore on, the cracks in the new order began to show. Santoro’s death had left a power vacuum that Nico was trying to fill, but the city wasn’t as easy to control as it seemed. The smaller crews, while subdued for now, were still watching, waiting for their moment. And Mackin’s old lieutenants were lurking in the shadows, their loyalty still tied to a legacy that refused to die.

Nico sat in the dim light of his office, staring down at the maps spread across his desk. He had fought for this. He had killed for this. And now the city was his. But the weight of it was heavier than he had expected. Every move felt like a gamble, every decision fraught with the possibility of failure.

Luis entered the room, his face etched with concern. “We’ve got another problem,” he said, his voice low.

Nico looked up, his eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

“One of Santoro’s old allies—Carlo. He’s been rallying some of the smaller crews. He’s trying to take back some of the territory we seized.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. “Carlo? I thought we made it clear to him that this city belongs to us now.”

Luis nodded. “We did. But he’s not backing down. He’s saying that without Santoro, there’s no reason to follow you.”

Nico stood, his face dark with determination. “Then we remind him why he should.”