The Rise of Mackin Jones

Chapter 89

Luis has taken control of the dockyard and the southside, but the victory feels hollow. The city is still restless, and the fires that burn beneath the surface are growing stronger.

Luis continues to fight for control; he begins to realise that no matter how many battles he wins, the city will never truly be his. The underworld is always hungry, always waiting for the next challenge.

As Luis grapples with the cost of survival, he must confront the reality that the city is always one step ahead. And as the final toll approaches, Luis must decide how far he’s willing to go before the city takes everything.

The Southside had been subdued, the Dockyard silenced. Luis stood at the pinnacle of the city’s underworld, a king surrounded by ashes. But as he looked over his empire, the unease gnawed at him. The city was quiet for now, but it wasn’t peace.

It was the kind of quiet that came before everything erupted again. He had fought too many battles to think otherwise.

Luis sat in his penthouse, the city’s lights glittering in the distance like stars scattered across the ground. But those lights felt cold and distant, disconnected from the reality of the streets below. The same streets he had bled for, fought for, only to realise that nothing he did could truly change the city. It had its pulse, its own needs, and it always wanted more.

Maria entered the room, her presence pulling him from his thoughts. She looked as tired as he felt, though she hid it well.

She had been by his side through everything, watching the rise, the fall, and the fragile equilibrium that now hung by a thread. Her eyes were sharp and focused, but there was something in her expression that made Luis uneasy.

“It’s getting worse,” Maria said without preamble. She crossed the room and handed him a thin folder filled with intel. “Miguel’s barely holding the Southside together. He’s doing everything he can, but it’s clear the crews don’t respect him. They’re waiting for an excuse to turn on him.”

Luis rubbed his temples, the familiar throb of pressure pulsing through his skull. “I gave them Miguel because I thought they’d respect him. I thought they’d fall in line.”

Maria shook her head. “They don’t respect anyone but you. The second they sense weakness, they’ll make their move. We’ve already got reports of smaller crews organising behind Miguel’s back. He’s walking a tightrope, Luis.”

Luis cursed under his breath. The Southside had been a problem since Salvatore’s death, but now it felt like a fuse waiting to ignite. And if the Southside fell, the rest of the city would follow.

“And the Dockyard?” Luis asked, his voice tight with frustration.

Maria’s expression darkened. “The remnants of Nico’s crew are gone, but new factions are forming. The Dockyard’s always been a place of opportunity. With no clear leader, there’s a power vacuum, and smaller players are moving in, trying to carve out their piece.”

Luis slammed the folder down on the desk, the frustration boiling over. “It never stops, does it? No matter how many we take out, there’s always someone else. Always another threat.”

Maria crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. “This is the city, Luis. This is the cost of staying on top. It’s a constant battle. You’ve been holding it together longer than anyone thought possible, but the city’s always hungry for more.”

Luis stood, pacing the room as the weight of her words settled over him. He had known this from the beginning. The city didn’t belong to anyone, not really. It had its own rules and its own power, and all he could do was try to survive its whims. But as the years dragged on, as more bodies fell and the lines between friend and foe blurred, Luis couldn’t help but wonder if the city was slowly devouring him, piece by piece.

“Then what’s the answer, Maria?” Luis asked, his voice low and cold. “We can’t keep fighting every crew that rises up. We’ll burn ourselves out.”

Maria’s eyes flickered with something close to sympathy. “We need to consolidate. Pull everything in tighter. The smaller crews, the factions in the Dockyard—they thrive because we’re spread too thin. We need to cut them off before they get any stronger.”

Luis turned to face her, his expression hard. “And how do we do that?”

Maria hesitated for a moment, then spoke, her voice calm but deadly serious. “We take everything. We burn it down and rebuild it under our control. The Southside, the Dockyard, the Eastside—they’re all fractured, too many pieces moving independently. We hit them all at once, crush anyone who resists, and rebuild it from the ground up. No more giving territory to weak lieutenants. No more negotiating. We rule the city with an iron fist, or we don’t rule at all.”

Luis stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. It was a brutal plan—one that would leave the city drenched in blood—but it was also the only way. He had been playing the game too long, trying to keep the peace, trying to balance the competing factions. But the city didn’t respect peace. It respected power. And Luis was beginning to understand that to truly hold the city, he would have to tear it apart first.

“Burn it all,” Luis muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “You think that’s the answer?”

Maria didn’t flinch. “It’s the only way. The city’s too fragmented, too full of players looking for their next move. If you want to stay on top, you need to remind them who’s in control. No more half-measures.”

Luis exhaled slowly, the decision weighing heavily on him. He had tried to build something different, something more than the blood-soaked reigns that had come before him. But maybe Maria was right. Maybe the only way to control the city was through fear, through absolute dominance. He had tried to be a ruler—now he would have to become a tyrant.

“Then we do it,” Luis said finally, his voice cold with resolve. “We take everything.”

The plan came together over the next few days. Luis and Maria worked tirelessly, coordinating their forces, gathering intelligence, and preparing for the final push. They would hit the city hard, all at once. No more subtlety, no more waiting for the crews to make their move. Luis was done playing defence.

The Southside would be the first target. Miguel had done his best to hold it together, but Luis knew that the crews were already plotting behind his back. They would strike there first, taking out the leaders of the smaller factions who had been testing Miguel’s authority. After that, they would move on to the dockyard, crushing anyone who thought they could carve out a piece of the territory for themselves.

It was a brutal plan, but it was the only way to ensure that the city stayed under Luis’s control. He couldn’t afford to show any more weakness. Not now.

On the night of the assault, Luis stood in the centre of his penthouse, dressed in black and armed to the teeth. Maria was beside him, her eyes sharp and focused. Outside, the city was quiet, unaware of the storm that was about to hit.

“You ready for this?” Maria asked, her voice calm but laced with tension.

Luis nodded, though the weight of the decision pressed down on him like a leaden shroud. “Yeah. It’s time.”

Maria gave him a long, steady look, then nodded. “Let’s burn it down.”

The assault on the Southside began just after midnight. Luis’s forces moved with deadly precision, hitting the key locations where the leaders of the rebellious crews had holed up. There was no negotiation, no mercy. Luis’s men stormed the buildings, cutting down anyone who stood in their way. The gunfire echoed through the streets, a symphony of violence that signalled the end of any resistance.

Luis led the charge himself, moving through the chaos with cold efficiency. He had been fighting for so long that the violence felt like second nature now. The bodies fell around him, but he didn’t hesitate. This wasn’t about survival anymore. This was about control.

Inside one of the crew’s hideouts, Luis found the leader of the faction—a man named Ramirez—cowering behind a desk, his face pale with fear.

“Luis,” Ramirez stammered, raising his hands in surrender. “We can make a deal. I didn’t want to—”

Luis didn’t let him finish. He raised his gun and fired, the shot echoing in the small room as Ramirez crumpled to the floor.

There would be no deals tonight.

Luis stepped over the body, his mind already moving to the next target. The Southside was falling, and soon it would be his. But even as the violence unfolded around him, Luis couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing something—some part of himself that he would never get back.

The Dockyard fell just as quickly. Luis’s forces moved in with the same ruthless efficiency, taking out the leaders of the smaller factions that had been trying to stake their claim. The smell of gunpowder and blood hung heavy in the air as the docks echoed with the sounds of battle. Luis moved through it all, his gun steady in his hand as he executed anyone who dared to challenge him.

But the victory felt hollow.

As Luis stood in the centre of the dockyard, surrounded by the bodies of his enemies, he realised that this was it. This was the endgame. He had taken the city, burnt it down, and rebuilt it under his control. There were no more enemies left to fight. No more threats looming in the shadows.

And yet, Luis felt empty.

Maria approached him, her face covered in blood and dirt, but her expression was calm. “It’s done. The Southside, the Dockyard—it’s all yours now.”

Luis nodded, though there was no satisfaction in the gesture. “Yeah. It’s done.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of everything they had done pressing down on them like a heavy fog. The city was theirs now—completely, utterly theirs. But in that moment, as Luis looked around at the blood-soaked streets and the broken bodies, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had lost more than he had gained.

“Was it worth it?” Luis asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Maria didn’t answer right away. She stared out at the burning city, her expression unreadable. “It had to be done.”

Luis nodded, though the emptiness inside him only grew. He had taken the city, but in doing so, he had burnt everything to the ground. The fires that had once fuelled his ambition now felt like they were consuming him from the inside out.

“I’m tired, Maria,” Luis said, his voice hollow. “I’m so tired.”

Maria looked at him, her eyes softening for the first time in a long time. “I know.”

They stood there for a long time, watching as the city burnt around them. Luis had won, but in the end, he realised that the city had taken everything from him—his friends, his enemies, his soul.

The final toll had been paid, and there was nothing left.