The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 62

Nico struggles to maintain control of the city in the wake of Santoro’s death; old enemies resurface and new alliances are formed. The power vacuum left by Santoro’s fall throws the city into chaos, and Nico must fight to hold his place at the top.

But with Mackin’s ghost still haunting the streets and rival factions moving against him, Nico’s reign is threatened from all sides. The battle for control has only just begun, and in a city built on blood and betrayal, no one is safe.

The war for the throne isn’t over yet.

Nico stood on the balcony of his newly claimed penthouse, the cold night air brushing against his skin. The view from up here was a perfect snapshot of the city that now teetered on the edge of war. Below, the streets were alive with tension, the pulse of the underworld shifting and grinding like tectonic plates.

The city had never been quiet—under Santoro, it had thrummed with a different kind of energy, a brutal, oppressive force that kept everyone in line. But now, with Santoro dead and his empire fractured, chaos was seeping into every corner.

Luis joined him, his face lined with exhaustion. “It’s not getting any easier, is it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nico didn’t answer immediately. He had expected the fight for the city to be bloody, but he hadn’t expected the complexity of it. The power vacuum left by Santoro’s death was deeper than he realised, and every move felt like a test, a gamble where the stakes were too high to lose. “No,” Nico said finally, his eyes scanning the skyline. “It’s not.”

Luis exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Carlo’s making his move. He’s already taken back two territories. The smaller crews are backing him, seeing him as the next power player.”

Nico’s jaw clenched. Carlo had been one of Santoro’s key lieutenants, but now that Santoro was dead, Carlo was trying to carve out his empire. Nico had warned him to stand down, but Carlo, like many in this city, couldn’t resist the pull of power. “He thinks he can challenge me,” Nico muttered, more to himself than to Luis.

“He’s not the only one,” Luis added, his voice tense. “I’ve been hearing rumblings from Mackin’s old men. They’re talking about reclaiming their piece of the city, taking back what was theirs before Santoro and before you.”

Nico turned, his gaze hard. “Mackin’s dead. His empire is gone.”

Luis shrugged. “Maybe. But his legacy isn’t. His men still have power, and they’re using the instability to rally support. They think this is their moment to rise again.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. He had killed Mateo and crushed the remnants of Mackin’s empire, but the shadow of Mackin still loomed over the city, a spectre that refused to die. “Then we show them that their time is over. Carlo, Mackin’s men, anyone who thinks they can take this city from me—they’re wrong.”

Luis looked sceptical. “It’s not just about them, Nico. It’s the city. The power vacuum is pulling everyone in. People are hungry for control, and they don’t trust you yet. They’re waiting for you to fall.”

Nico’s expression didn’t change, but inside, he knew Luis was right. The city didn’t trust him. They didn’t know him, not the way they had known Santoro or Mackin. To them, he was just another man trying to take the throne. Another warlord in a city built on warlords.

“What do we do, then?” Luis asked.

Nico’s mind raced, piecing together a strategy. “We take Carlo out first. He’s a known quantity. We hit him hard, and we send a message to the rest of the city that I’m not here to play games.”

“And Mackin’s men?”

“They’ll fall in line once Carlo’s gone,” Nico said, though he wasn’t entirely sure of that. Mackin’s legacy was strong, but without a leader, his old lieutenants would be too fragmented to mount a real challenge. Still, Nico couldn’t afford to underestimate them.

Luis nodded, though there was a hint of hesitation in his voice. “Alright. But you need to be careful. If we go too hard, we risk making more enemies.”

Nico’s eyes darkened. “We’re already at war, Luis. No point pretending otherwise.”

The plan was set in motion quickly. Nico wasn’t one to wait around when an opportunity presented itself. Carlo’s movements had been tracked, and it wasn’t hard to figure out where he’d make his stand.

He had gathered his men in a rundown nightclub in the industrial district, a place that had once been one of Santoro’s favourite spots for backroom deals. Now, it served as Carlo’s makeshift headquarters, and Nico saw it for what it was: a fortress built on arrogance.

Nico’s crew was ready. They moved silently through the streets, slipping into the shadows as they closed in on the nightclub. Luis was by Nico’s side, his face set in grim determination. “You think he knows we’re coming?” Luis asked.

Nico shook his head. “He’s too confident. He thinks he’s already won.”

The approach was swift. Nico had no intention of giving Carlo a chance to negotiate. This wasn’t a business meeting. This was a message, and Nico knew that the only language Carlo understood was violence.

As they reached the entrance, Nico signalled for his men to move. The doors burst open, and the quiet night was shattered by the sound of gunfire. Carlo’s men were caught off guard, scrambling for cover as bullets ripped through the club’s walls. It was chaos, the kind of chaos Nico had orchestrated so many times before.

Inside, Carlo stood behind a bar, his face twisted in shock and rage. “Nico!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. “You think you can take me out like this?”

Nico stepped into the room, his gun drawn, his eyes locked on Carlo. “I don’t think,” Nico said coldly. “I know.”

Carlo sneered, raising his weapon, but before he could fire, a bullet tore through his shoulder, sending him crashing to the floor. Nico moved quickly, closing the distance between them. He kicked Carlo’s gun away, standing over him as Carlo clutched his bleeding shoulder.

“You should have stayed out of this,” Nico said, his voice cold as steel.

Carlo glared up at him, his face pale with pain but still defiant. “You think killing me will solve your problems? This city doesn’t belong to you. It never will.”

Nico’s gaze hardened. “This city belongs to whoever is strong enough to hold it.”

Carlo’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “You’re just like him, you know that? Just like Santoro.”

Nico’s eyes flashed with anger, but he kept his voice steady. “I’m nothing like Santoro.”

Without another word, Nico pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the club, and Carlo’s body went still.

For a moment, there was only silence. The sound of the battle had faded, the last of Carlo’s men either dead or fleeing. Nico stood over Carlo’s body, the weight of the moment settling in. Carlo had been a threat, a rival. Now he was gone. But Nico knew that this was only the beginning.

Luis stepped forward, his face grim. “It’s done.”

Nico nodded, though there was no satisfaction in his expression. He had won this battle, but the war for the city was far from over. Carlo’s death would send a message, but it would also draw more enemies out of the shadows. Mackin’s men would see this as a sign of weakness or an opportunity to reclaim what was theirs.

“Get rid of the body,” Nico said quietly. “Make sure everyone knows what happened here.”

Luis nodded, signalling to the others. As Nico watched them move, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the city was still slipping through his fingers. Carlo had been an obstacle, but there were others—others who were waiting, watching, ready to make their move.

Nico turned and walked out of the nightclub, the night air cool against his skin. He had taken Carlo down, but the battle for the city wasn’t over. Not yet.

The news of Carlo’s death spread quickly, and the response was immediate. Some of the smaller crews fell in line, recognising Nico’s strength, while others began to retreat into the shadows, biding their time. But it wasn’t the smaller crews that worried Nico—it was Mackin’s old lieutenants.

They had stayed quiet after Santoro’s fall, but now, with Carlo dead, they were beginning to make their presence known.

Luis joined Nico in the safehouse, the tension in the air thick as they discussed their next moves. “We’re hearing more chatter from Mackin’s men,” Luis said, his voice low. “They’re starting to make moves. Nothing big yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Nico’s expression was unreadable, his mind working through the possibilities. Mackin’s men had been lying low for years, waiting for the right moment to strike. Now, with Santoro gone and the city in chaos, they saw their chance.

“We need to shut them down before they get any stronger,” Nico said. “If they rally the old guard, we’ll have a full-blown war on our hands.”

Luis nodded, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “What’s the play? We can’t take them all out at once.”

Nico leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “We don’t need to. We just need to take out their leader. Without someone to rally around, they’ll fall apart.”

Luis raised an eyebrow. “You think they’ve got someone in charge?”

Nico’s gaze hardened. “They always do. We find him, and we end it.”

The next few days were a blur of action. Nico’s men moved quickly, gathering intel and tracking the movements of Mackin’s old lieutenants. It wasn’t long before they found their target: Angelo Ricci, one of Mackin’s most trusted men, had been quietly gathering support, pulling the old guard together in the hopes of reclaiming the city.

Nico wasn’t surprised. Angelo had always been a survivor, a man who knew how to play the long game. But Nico had no intention of letting Angelo rise to power. This was Nico’s city now, and anyone who thought otherwise was living on borrowed time.

The confrontation came in the dead of night, in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Angelo had been expecting a quiet meeting with some of his remaining allies, but when he arrived, he found Nico waiting for him instead.

Angelo’s face twisted into a sneer. “So, you’re the new king of the city now, huh?”

Nico’s expression didn’t change. “Your time is over, Angelo. This city belongs to me now.”

Angelo laughed, though there was no humour in it. “You think you can just take what was Mackin’s? Do you think you can kill a few men and call yourself the boss? This city’s not yours, Nico. It never will be.”

Nico stepped forward, his voice cold and steady. “It already is.”

Angelo’s hand moved towards his gun, but before he could draw it, Nico’s men were on him. The fight was quick and brutal. Angelo was no match for Nico’s crew, and within minutes, he was on his knees, blood trickling from a wound in his side.

“You made a mistake,” Nico said, standing over him. “You should have stayed in the shadows.”

Angelo glared up at him, defiant even in defeat. “You think you’re different, Nico? Do you think you’re better than Mackin, better than Santoro? You’re just another killer. The city will chew you up, just like it did them.”

Nico’s eyes darkened. “Maybe. But not today.”

With a swift motion, Nico pulled the trigger. Angelo fell, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud.

The city was his now, but as Nico stood over Angelo’s body, the weight of his victory pressed down on him. This was only the beginning.

The city was still at war, and even though the old guard was gone, new threats would rise. They always did.

Nico remembered what happened between Mateo and Santoro before they fell...