The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 76

With Tony dead and the Westside reclaimed, Nico has won yet another battle, but the cost of victory is heavier than ever. The city is bleeding, and the smaller crews are regrouping, ready to strike again.

Nico’s empire is on the verge of collapse, and even his most loyal allies are beginning to doubt whether he can hold on. As the final confrontation looms, Nico must face the reality that the fire he started is consuming everything around him. The last stand is coming, and the city is ready to burn.

The end is near, and not everyone will survive.

The city breathed like a wounded animal, its streets tense and restless, waiting for the final collapse. Nico had won another battle, but it felt like a hollow victory.

Tony was dead, his crew scattered, but every inch of ground Nico had taken back was soaked in blood—his men’s blood. The empire he had built was no longer something to be feared; it was something dying slowly, piece by piece.

Nico sat in his office in the penthouse, the weight of everything pressing down on him like a vice. His victories were becoming more pyrrhic, his resources were dwindling, and his enemies—those still lurking in the shadows—were growing bolder. He could feel the city turning against him. The power he once wielded so effortlessly was slipping, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t stop it.

Luis sat across from him, his face pale and drawn. He hadn’t said much since the battle with Tony’s crew. He didn’t need to. Nico could see the doubt in his eyes—the same doubt that had crept into the hearts of every man who still stood by his side. They were all waiting for the end, even if they didn’t want to admit it.

“We’re down to a skeleton crew,” Luis said quietly, breaking the heavy silence. “The men... they’re scared, Nico. They’ve been through too much. And now, after Tony, they’re starting to wonder if we can still hold the city.”

Nico didn’t respond right away. He knew Luis was right. His men were broken, beaten down by the endless fighting, the bloodshed that never seemed to stop. They had followed him for years, but now they were questioning whether they could survive another battle.

“How many do we have left?” Nico asked, his voice low, and resigned.

Luis sighed, rubbing his temples. “Not enough. A couple of dozen at most. And half of them are in bad shape. We lost too many in the Westside fight. Tony’s crew hit us harder than we expected.”

Nico clenched his fists, the frustration boiling over. He had been fighting for so long, sacrificing everything for this city, and now it was slipping away from him, faster than he could hold it together.

“The smaller crews?” Nico asked, his eyes darkening.

“They’re regrouping,” Luis said grimly. “Angelo’s still out there, and he’s picking up the pieces of Tony’s operation. The Dockyard crew is moving on the Eastside, and some of the smaller factions are joining forces. They’re circling, waiting for us to make the next move.”

Nico stood abruptly, pacing the room, his mind racing. He couldn’t let Angelo or the Dockyard crew gain any more ground. If they consolidated power, it would be the end. His reign—his empire—would fall, and the city would be lost.

“We need to hit Angelo before he gets any stronger,” Nico muttered, more to himself than to Luis. “If he takes the Eastside, it’s over.”

Luis shook his head, his expression filled with concern. “We don’t have the manpower for another fight like that, Nico. We barely survived the last one.”

Nico’s eyes flashed with frustration. He had always been able to count on Luis, but now even his most trusted ally was starting to question him, starting to lose faith in their ability to win this war.

“If we don’t fight, we lose everything,” Nico snapped, his voice sharp. “I’m not walking away from this city.”

Luis stood, his expression hardening. “And what happens when there’s no one left to fight for you, Nico? We’re running on fumes. The men are tired; they’re scared. They’ve seen too many die, and they know what’s coming.”

Nico stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto Luis. “So what? Do you think we should just give up? Let them take everything I built.”

Luis didn’t flinch. “I think we need to be smart about this. You’ve ruled this city through fear, through violence. But it’s not working anymore. The smaller crews—they’re not afraid of you like they used to be. They’re fighting back, and every time we hit them, we lose more.”

Nico’s gaze narrowed. “So what’s your plan, Luis? Do you think I can talk my way out of this? You think they’ll just let me walk away?”

Luis’s expression softened, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. “Maybe it’s time to think about it a different way. Maybe we stop fighting.”

Nico stared at him, disbelief and anger flashing in his eyes. “Stop fighting? That’s what you’re saying? After everything we’ve done, everything we’ve been through, you want me to stop?”

Luis exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t want you to lose everything. This city... it’s not what it used to be, Nico. We’ve fought too many battles and burnt too many bridges. And now we’re standing at the edge of a cliff. One more step, and we’re going over.”

Nico shook his head, his jaw clenched in frustration. He had fought for too long, bled for too much, to walk away now. This city was his. It had always been his. But as he stood there, staring at the man who had been with him through every rise and fall, he felt something crack inside him—a realisation he had been avoiding for too long.

Maybe Luis was right.

Maybe the city was already lost.

That night, the tension in the city reached its breaking point.

Angelo’s men had moved faster than expected, striking at Nico’s remaining strongholds on the east side. It was a calculated move, meant to send a message: Angelo was coming for Nico, and the rest of the city would follow. The attack was swift, brutal, and effective. By the time Nico got word of it, his forces had already been decimated.

Luis burst into the penthouse, his face pale with urgency. “They’ve hit us hard, Nico. Angelo’s men—they’ve taken most of the Eastside. Our guys didn’t stand a chance.”

Nico slammed his fist down on the desk, the frustration boiling over. “How many?”

Luis shook his head. “Too many. We’ve lost half of our remaining men. The rest are falling back, but... they’re scared, Nico. I don’t know how much longer we can hold.”

Nico’s mind raced, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Angelo was making his move, and soon the Dockyard crew would follow. They were closing in, sensing that Nico’s empire was on the verge of collapse.

“We need to regroup,” Nico said, standing abruptly. “Pull everyone we have left. We make our stand at the Westside.”

Luis hesitated, his face filled with concern. “Nico, we don’t have the numbers. If we go head-to-head with Angelo’s crew, it’s going to be a slaughter.”

Nico clenched his fists, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “I’m not walking away, Luis. Not from this. Not after everything we’ve done.”

Luis sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. “And if we lose?”

Nico’s gaze hardened. “Then we make sure they bleed.”

The final confrontation came at dawn.

Nico’s men—what was left of them—gathered in the heart of the Westside, preparing for the battle they knew was coming. The city was quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that came before a storm, thick with tension and the promise of violence. The air smelled of rain, gasoline, and fear.

Luis stood beside Nico, his face lined with exhaustion. They both knew what was coming and knew that this would be their last stand. Angelo’s crew was already moving in, and the Dockyard boys wouldn’t be far behind. Nico had lost too many men to fight them off, but he wasn’t going to let them take the city without a fight.

“We’ve got about twenty men left,” Luis said quietly, his voice heavy with defeat. “Most of them aren’t in great shape. But they’ll fight.”

Nico nodded, though the weight of the moment pressed down on him like a physical force. He had always been ready for a fight, always willing to do whatever it took to hold onto his power. But now, as the city turned against him, he could feel the end closing in.

“We make our stand here,” Nico said, his voice low but steady. “Whatever happens, we don’t back down.”

Luis gave a brief nod, though his eyes were filled with doubt. “It’s been an honour, Nico. No matter what happens today.”

Nico didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. They had been through too much together and fought too many battles side by side. But this was different. This wasn’t about loyalty or power anymore. This was about survival.

As the sun began to rise over the city, Angelo’s crew arrived.

They came in waves, moving through the streets like shadows, guns raised, faces set with grim determination. Nico’s men were waiting, hidden behind makeshift barricades, ready to defend their territory to the last man. The Westside was the last stronghold, the last piece of Nico’s empire that hadn’t yet fallen.

The first shots rang out, cutting through the still morning air like a knife. Nico moved through the chaos, his gun steady in his hand, his mind focused on one thing: survival. His men fought with everything they had left, but it wasn’t enough. Angelo’s forces were stronger and more organised, and they were relentless.

Luis was beside him, firing into the crowd of advancing enemies, his face grim. “They’re pushing hard, Nico! We can’t hold this position much longer.”

Nico didn’t answer. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched his men fall, one by one, the realisation hitting him like a freight train. This was the end. There was no victory here, no triumph. Only death and defeat.

“We fall back!” Nico shouted, his voice hoarse as he gestured for his remaining men to retreat to the inner perimeter. “Regroup!”

The battle raged on, the sounds of gunfire and shouting filling the air. Bodies littered the streets, and the once-bustling Westside was now a war zone. Nico’s empire, the one he had built with blood and violence, was collapsing before his eyes.

And then he saw him.

Angelo.

The man who had started this rebellion, the one who had organised the smaller crews, stood across the battlefield, his eyes locked on Nico. There was a moment of stillness, a brief second where everything else faded into the background, and it was just the two of them.

Nico raised his gun, but Angelo was faster.

The shot rang out, sharp and final.

Nico staggered, searing pain exploding through his chest. He dropped to his knees, his vision blurring as the world around him seemed to slow. The sounds of battle grew distant and muffled as if he were underwater.

Luis was at his side in an instant, shouting something Nico couldn’t hear. He tried to speak, tried to stand, but his body wouldn’t respond. The blood was pouring from the wound in his chest, soaking through his shirt, and pooling around him.

The city, his city, was fading.

And for the first time, Nico understood.

The empire he had built wasn’t meant to last. It had always been temporary, a fleeting thing built on violence and fear. The city had never been his. It had always belonged to the beast, the chaos, the underworld itself. And now it was taking him with it.

“Nico, stay with me!” Luis’s voice broke through the haze, but it sounded far away, distant.

Nico’s vision darkened, his strength slipping away. He had fought so hard for so long, but now, in the end, all he felt was the cold weight of defeat.

The city was gone.

And so was he.