The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 72

With Vic dead and the Southside crew crushed, Nico has regained control over the city—but the cost of his reign is becoming clearer with every day. The smaller crews are retreating for now, but the tension in the underworld is still simmering, and even Nico’s most loyal allies are beginning to question how long his empire can last.

As new threats emerge and old alliances fray, Nico must face the harsh reality that holding the crown is far more dangerous than taking it. The city is ready to burn, and the weight of the crown is heavier than ever.

The final battle for the city is drawing closer, and Nico’s enemies are waiting in the shadows.

The city lay beneath Nico, sprawling and silent, yet he could feel the pulse of it—the slow thrum of unrest that no amount of blood could quiet. From the penthouse, the skyline glittered like a treasure just out of reach.

It was his, but only for as long as he could hold it. Every victory he claimed, every rival he crushed, brought him closer to the edge, and Nico was beginning to feel the strain.

It was different now. The fear he once wielded so effortlessly, the violence that had always silenced his enemies, wasn’t enough. Not anymore. The Southside crew was gone, but they weren’t the last.

Others would rise, emboldened by the cracks in his empire. And even among his men, Nico could sense the tension—the unspoken doubts, the whispers of uncertainty that followed every defeat, everybody left behind.

Luis entered the room, his face drawn and tired. He had been with Nico through it all—through the rise, the bloodshed, the fight for control—and now, through the slow, inevitable slide into chaos.

Nico had always counted on Luis, but even now, he could see the wear in his friend’s eyes. The weight of everything they had built was pressing down on them both.

“They’re quiet,” Luis said, breaking the silence as he approached. “But it’s not over.”

Nico nodded, his gaze never leaving the city below. He had won another battle, crushed another threat, but it felt more like survival than victory. Each fight brought him closer to something—an end, a collapse, something inevitable.

The city wasn’t his. It never had been. It was a beast that fed on power and blood, and every king who had tried to rule it had eventually been devoured.

“They’re waiting,” Nico said finally. “They always are.”

Luis sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Vic’s gone, but the smaller crews are regrouping. The Dockyard crew, the Eastside guys—they’re still out there, and they’re getting restless. We hit Vic hard, but they’re not going to stay down for long.”

Nico turned to face him, his expression cold but composed. “Then we make sure they don’t get the chance.”

Luis studied him for a moment, his concern deepening. “Nico, we’ve been fighting non-stop for months. Your men are tired. Hell, you’re tired. We need to regroup before we start another war.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. He didn’t have time for rest. Not now. Not when the city was tipping on the edge. He had ruled with violence and fear for so long that it had become second nature, but now he could feel the limits of it. The more he pushed, the more resistance he met. But there was no turning back. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, not when everyone was watching, waiting for him to stumble.

“I’m not waiting for them to make the first move,” Nico said, his voice low but firm. “We hit them before they hit us.”

Luis exhaled slowly, frustration creeping into his voice. “And how long can we keep doing this, Nico? You can’t kill everyone who stands against you. The city’s already bleeding. If we keep going like this, there won’t be anything left to rule.”

Nico’s gaze hardened. He knew Luis was right, in a way. The city was bleeding, and every fight, every death, was weakening the foundation of everything he had built. But Nico didn’t know any other way. He had taken the city by force, and force was the only thing that would keep it.

“If we stop, we lose,” Nico said coldly. “They’ll see it as a sign of weakness. I’m not giving them that chance.”

Luis nodded, though the doubt remained in his eyes. He had followed Nico for years and trusted him through every brutal decision, but now even Luis could feel the weight of the crown growing heavier. “Alright,” he said finally. “But we need a plan. We can’t just keep reacting.”

Nico’s mind raced, already forming the next move. He needed to solidify his power, to remind the city that he was still in control. The smaller crews—the ones who were lying low, watching, waiting—needed to be crushed before they could rise. But there was something else, something lurking just beneath the surface that Nico couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just the smaller crews or the lieutenants who were wavering in their loyalty. It was the city itself. It had never truly been his. It was like a wild animal—tamed for a time but always ready to turn, to bite back the moment you let your guard down. And Nico could feel it, more than ever now. The underworld was shifting, and he was standing on a fault line that threatened to swallow him whole.

Across the city, in a run-down warehouse on the Eastside, another meeting was taking place. The smaller crews—those who had been cowed by Nico’s reign of terror—were gathering, drawn together by the growing sense that Nico’s control was weakening. They had seen what happened to Dino, Vic, and to every man who had tried to challenge Nico. But now they smell blood in the water.

At the head of the table sat Dario Russo, a mid-level operator who had kept his head down during Nico’s rise. He had seen enough of the bloodshed to know that crossing Nico wasn’t worth it. But lately, things have changed.

The city was different. Nico was still a threat, but Dario could sense the cracks in his empire widening. The men who had once feared him were starting to talk, starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a way to take him down.

Dario looked around the table, his eyes scanning the faces of the other crew leaders—small-time operators, each one hungry for more. They were tired of living in Nico’s shadow, tired of watching their men die for a throne that wasn’t theirs.

“Nico’s strong,” Dario said, his voice low and cautious. “But he’s stretched thin. We’ve seen him take down Dino and take down Vic, but he’s losing ground. His men are bleeding, and sooner or later, he’s going to run out of soldiers.”

One of the men, a gritty enforcer named Marco, leaned forward, his face lined with scepticism. “You think we can take him? The guy’s a killer. He’s taken down everyone who’s crossed him.”

Dario nodded. “We’re not going after Nico head-on. That’s suicide. But we don’t have to kill him to win. We just need to weaken him. Make his men doubt him. Make the city doubt him.”

The others murmured in agreement, the plan forming in their minds. They had watched Nico build his empire through blood and fear, but they had also seen how fragile that empire was becoming. If they played it right, they could chip away at Nico’s power until there was nothing left.

“Where do we start?” Marco asked, his voice edged with anticipation.

Dario’s smile was cold. “We start with his lieutenants. They’re already scared. We just need to push them a little further.”

Back at the penthouse, Nico was already preparing for the next move. The smaller crews were regrouping, and the whispers of rebellion were growing louder. He knew it was only a matter of time before they made their move, and when they did, he would be ready.

“We hit them before they hit us,” Nico said, pacing the room as he laid out the plan. “Dario Russo’s been making moves on the Eastside. We take him out, and the rest will fall in line.”

Luis frowned. “Dario’s smart. He’s been keeping quiet, playing it safe. If we hit him, we could end up pushing the others into open rebellion.”

Nico shook his head. “No. We send a message. Make them see what happens to anyone who thinks they can challenge me.”

Luis nodded though his face remained tense. “Alright. But we need to be careful. The city’s watching. If we move too fast, too hard, we could end up losing more than we gain.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. He knew the risks, but he couldn’t afford to show hesitation. The city had to believe that he was still in control. “We don’t give them the chance to regroup. We end this now.”

Dario Russo’s hideout was in an old, abandoned factory on the Eastside, a place where Nico’s reach had always been tenuous. The area had been quiet for months, but Nico’s intelligence told him that Dario was gathering men, building alliances, and preparing for something bigger. It was a slow, quiet rebellion, but Nico knew that if it wasn’t crushed now, it would spread like a disease.

Nico’s men moved through the factory with precision, cutting through Dario’s guards and storming the building with the kind of ruthless efficiency that had become their signature. But this time, something was different. There was no panic in Dario’s men, no sense of surprise.

It was a trap.

Nico’s instincts kicked in just as the first explosion rocked the factory. The blast tore through the lower levels, sending flames and debris through the air. Nico’s men scattered, caught off guard by the sheer ferocity of the attack. For a moment, chaos reigned.

Luis was at Nico’s side, pulling him out of the path of falling debris. “It’s a setup! They knew we were coming!”

Nico’s heart raced, his mind scrambling to make sense of what was happening. Dario had lured him in and set him up, and now his men were fighting for their lives in the middle of a death trap.

“We need to get out of here,” Luis shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the flames.

But Nico wasn’t ready to retreat. Not yet.

“We finish this,” Nico growled, his eyes blazing with fury.

The battle that followed was brutal and chaotic. Nico’s men fought through the inferno, cutting down Dario’s forces even as the factory crumbled around them. The air was thick with smoke and blood, and for the first time, Nico felt the weight of his empire slipping away from him.

Dario was waiting for him in the heart of the factory, surrounded by the last of his men. His face was set in a cold smile as Nico approached, gun drawn, eyes filled with rage.

“You thought you could take me down,” Nico said, his voice low and deadly. “But you forgot one thing.”

Dario’s smile didn’t falter. “I didn’t forget. I just knew that sooner or later, you’d fall. And now, the city’s watching you burn.”

Nico’s gun fired before Dario could say another word. The bullet struck him in the chest, and he staggered back, his body crumpling to the ground.

But the damage was done.

The factory was collapsing, the flames consuming everything. Nico stood over Dario’s lifeless body, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a lead blanket. He had won, but at what cost? His men were dead, his empire was crumbling, and the city—his city—was turning against him.

Later that night, Nico and Luis returned to the penthouse, battered and bloodied from the fight. The victory over Dario had come at a steep price, and even as they stood in the familiar confines of the penthouse, the weight of their losses hung heavy in the air.

“We’re running out of men,” Luis said quietly, his voice laced with exhaustion. “We can’t keep fighting like this.”

Nico didn’t respond. He knew Luis was right. The city was bleeding, and with every battle and every death, his empire grew weaker. The weight of the crown was heavier than ever, and Nico could feel it pressing down on him, crushing him under the sheer force of it.

“How much longer can we hold on?” Luis asked, his eyes filled with worry.

Nico stared out at the city, his mind racing. He had fought so hard and sacrificed so much, and yet, it still wasn’t enough. The city was ready to burn, and for the first time, Nico wasn’t sure if he could stop it.

“We hold on as long as we can,” Nico said finally, his voice cold and empty. “Until there’s nothing left.”