The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 75

After Paolo is dead and the Southside crew is in disarray, Nico has managed to win yet another battle, but the cost of victory is greater than ever. The city is bleeding, and the smaller crews are still regrouping, plotting their next move.

Nico’s once-unshakeable empire is on the verge of collapse, and even his most loyal allies are beginning to lose faith. As the final confrontation looms, Nico must face the reality that the empire he built with blood and fear may be nothing more than a kingdom of ashes.

The end is coming, and no one will escape the fire.

The days following Paolo’s death were darker than Nico had ever anticipated. The war he thought he had won felt more like a Pyrrhic victory, the kind where the bloodshed outweighed the prize. Paolo’s body had barely cooled before the word spread through the city’s underworld.

His death had sent shockwaves—not the kind that would bring the city to its knees in submission—but the kind that rippled outward, pushing the other crews deeper into the shadows, plotting their next move.

Nico had hoped Paolo’s execution would be the final blow, the message that would bring everyone back into line. Instead, it had made them even more desperate, driven by the knowledge that Nico was stretched too thin. The city, which had once bowed to him out of fear, now looked upon him with the calculating eyes of scavengers, circling their prey.

Luis sat across from him in the penthouse, the weariness on his face unmistakable. Nico didn’t look much better. He had barely slept since the ambush at the warehouse, his mind constantly replaying the battle, every mistake, every step that had led him closer to this moment. The empire he had built was cracking, and it felt like every move he made to hold it together only made the cracks wider.

“We’ve got more problems,” Luis said, his voice barely above a whisper. His exhaustion ran deep, but beneath it was the edge of fear—a fear neither of them had spoken aloud. “Tony’s crew. They’re making moves on the Westside again.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. He had killed Paolo, taken back the Westside, and yet Tony and Angelo were still out there, still organising, still believing they had a shot at taking him down. They were vultures, waiting for him to stumble.

“How many men?” Nico asked, his voice low and controlled. He knew what Luis was going to say before the words even left his mouth.

“Enough to take a chunk of the territory if we don’t move fast,” Luis replied. “They’re not waiting anymore, Nico. They know we’re weak.”

That last sentence hung in the air between them, heavier than anything Luis had said before. Nico could see the truth in his eyes. The city was watching, the smaller crews were regrouping, and Nico was bleeding out slowly, with every fight, every death.

“How are the men?” Nico asked, though part of him already knew the answer.

Luis shook his head. “They’re scared. We’ve lost too many in the last few weeks. They’re starting to wonder if it’s worth it if we can still hold this together.”

Nico clenched his fists, the weight of those words crashing down on him. His men—his empire—were slipping away. For years, fear had kept them in line, but fear was a double-edged sword. It had kept them loyal when Nico was invincible, but now that the cracks were showing, fear was turning them into cowards.

“We don’t have a choice,” Nico said finally. “We can’t let Tony and Angelo get a foothold in the Westside. If they take that territory, the rest of the city will follow.”

Luis didn’t argue, but the hesitation in his eyes was enough. He was losing faith, just like the others. They had fought too many battles and buried too many of their own, and now they were staring down the barrel of a war they couldn’t win.

“Nico,” Luis began carefully, choosing his words with a precision that betrayed his growing concern. “Maybe... maybe it’s time to cut our losses. We’ve been fighting for months, years. The city’s not what it was. It’s breaking. Maybe we let it go.”

Nico’s eyes flashed with anger. “Let it go? This city is mine, Luis. I fought for it, bled for it. I’m not walking away because a few crews think they can take it from me.”

Luis sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s not just the crews. It’s everything. We’re losing men faster than we can replace them. The smaller crews are regrouping, and they’re hungry. They’re waiting for us to fall.”

Nico stood, pacing the room. The anger and the frustration were boiling over. He had fought too hard for this city and sacrificed too much to let it slip away now. But Luis wasn’t wrong. The cracks in his empire were growing wider with every passing day, and no amount of blood could hold it together forever.

“If we walk away now, we lose everything,” Nico said, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you understand that? Everything.”

Luis didn’t flinch, but his eyes softened with something Nico hadn’t seen in a long time—pity. “Maybe we’ve already lost it, Nico.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Nico stopped pacing, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Luis had always been his closest ally, his most loyal confidant. But now, even Luis was starting to question if this war was worth it.

“We haven’t lost,” Nico said finally, his voice hard. “Not yet.”

Luis nodded, though the doubt remained in his eyes. “Alright. So what’s the plan?”

Nico turned back towards the window, staring out at the city that was slipping away from him. The skyline was the same, but everything beneath it had changed. The underworld was like a storm brewing just beneath the surface, ready to break at any moment.

“We hit Tony first,” Nico said, his voice cold. “We can’t let him get comfortable in the Westside. Once we take him out, Angelo will be next.”

Luis nodded though his face remained tense. “We’ll need everything we have left. No mistakes.”

Nico didn’t respond. His mind was already working through the plan, but deep down, he knew Luis was right. They couldn’t afford mistakes, not now. One wrong move and everything would come crashing down.

The night of the hit on Tony’s crew came quickly.

Nico’s men gathered in a grim silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on them like a shroud. They knew what was at stake. They had been through this before—too many times. But this time felt different. There was no sense of invincibility, no confidence that they would walk away victorious. It was survival now, pure and simple.

Luis was at Nico’s side as they approached the warehouse where Tony’s crew had set up shop. The Westside had always been a battleground, but now it felt like a graveyard, littered with the ghosts of men who had once ruled it. Nico’s men moved quietly through the darkened streets, their faces set in grim determination.

Nico had always been one step ahead of his enemies, but tonight, there was a sense of urgency he hadn’t felt before. Tony had organised well, faster than Nico had expected. If they didn’t take him out now, the Westside would fall, and the rest of the city would follow.

“Everything’s in place,” Luis whispered as they approached the entrance to the warehouse. “We’ve got the perimeter locked down.”

Nico nodded, his mind focused on the task ahead. They would go in hard, fast, and leave no survivors. It had to be quick, brutal—a message to the rest of the city that Nico wasn’t done yet.

“Let’s move,” Nico ordered, his voice steady.

The attack was swift and ruthless. Nico’s men stormed the warehouse, guns blazing as they cut through Tony’s forces with cold precision. The air was thick with gunfire and smoke, the sound of bodies hitting the floor echoing through the building. Tony’s men were caught off guard, but they fought back hard, desperate to hold their ground.

Nico moved through the chaos, his gun steady in his hand, his eyes locked on the shadows ahead. He had done this too many times before, but now it felt different. Every shot, every death, brought him closer to the end—an end he couldn’t see but one he could feel closing in on him.

As the battle raged on, Nico caught sight of Tony, ducking behind a stack of crates, his face twisted in fury. Nico’s heart pounded as he pushed forward, cutting down anyone who stood in his way. This was it. This was the moment.

But as Nico closed in, something unexpected happened.

The gunfire stopped. Silence fell over the warehouse, thick and heavy, like the calm before a storm. Nico’s men had secured the building, and Tony’s forces were either dead or retreating.

Tony stood in the middle of the chaos, breathing hard, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and defiance.

Nico approached slowly, his gun still raised. “You thought you could take my city?”

Tony’s face twisted into a sneer. “Your city? Do you think this place belongs to you? You’re just the latest in a long line of kings who think they can tame it.”

Nico didn’t flinch. He had heard this before—every man who had ever tried to take his throne had said the same thing. But they were all dead now, and Nico was still standing.

“You’re finished, Tony,” Nico said coldly. “This ends tonight.”

Tony laughed, a hollow sound that echoed through the empty warehouse. “It’s already over, Nico. You just don’t see it yet.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Tony’s smile faded, replaced by a look of grim certainty. “You’ve lost, Nico. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow. But the city’s turning against you. You can feel it, can’t you? You can’t stop it.”

Nico’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Deep down, he knew Tony was right. The city was slipping away, and no matter how many battles he won, it would never be his again.

But none of that mattered. Not at this moment.

Without another word, Nico raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the warehouse, and Tony crumpled to the ground, his body still.

Nico stood over him, his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a lead blanket. He had won. Again. But it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like survival—like clinging to the last pieces of an empire that was already falling apart.

Luis appeared beside him, his face drawn with exhaustion. “It’s done,” he said quietly. “But Nico... the city’s still coming for us.”

Nico nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on Tony’s lifeless body. He had won the battle, but the war wasn’t over. The city was bleeding, and no matter how many men he killed, no matter how many enemies he crushed, the collapse was coming.

“We need to get back to the penthouse,” Luis said, glancing around the wreckage of the warehouse. “Tony’s men will regroup, and the others... they’ll see this as an opportunity.”

Nico didn’t respond immediately. He stood there, staring down at Tony’s body, the weight of everything pressing down on him. The city had once been his. Now, it was a kingdom of ashes, and Nico wasn’t sure if he could stop the fire from consuming everything.

“We’re not done yet,” Nico muttered, more to himself than to Luis.

But deep down, he knew the truth. The end was already in motion, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down.