Then, something caught his eye.
A door in the corner of the room.
He stepped over Mario's bloodied body and yanked the door open. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Inside was his bodyguard—tied up, bloodied, barely conscious. Matteo's eyes widened. He hadn't expected the man to be alive, but what shocked him more was how badly beaten he was. His face was bruised and swollen beyond recognition.
Without saying a word, Matteo rushed forward and cut the ropes binding him.
"Stand up," Matteo ordered, his deep voice cold and commanding. "Get up."
The bodyguard's eyes fluttered open. His voice was weak, but relief washed over his battered face.
"Boss… you finally came," he whispered.
I knew you were going to come, boss… Thank you for rescuing me," Matteo's bodyguard said weakly.
"It's no big deal," Matteo replied, his voice low. "But I don't like getting caught. And I sure as hell don't like seeing you caught up in my mess. This wasn't supposed to happen to you. I should've handled this myself… You weren't meant to suffer for any of it. I'm sorry."
The bodyguard could barely stand—his leg was clearly injured. Matteo stepped beside him, grabbed his arm, and draped it over his shoulder. With one arm wrapped tightly around his waist for support, Matteo helped him move. Step by step, they made their way out of the mansion.
It wasn't easy.
By the time they reached downstairs, the full weight of the battle was clear. Matteo wasn't just finishing a mission—he was dragging the aftermath behind him. Bodies were everywhere. The floor was soaked in blood. Some lay dead. Others—barely alive—groaned in pain. Over 250 men had fallen.
Matteo helped his bodyguard into the black Dodge parked outside. He carefully sat him in the passenger seat, closed the door, and without a word, turned and walked back inside.
The mansion felt eerily silent now—like the war had ended but the ghosts remained.
Back inside, Matteo moved upstairs again, back to the room where Mario lay unconscious. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small injection. Without hesitation, he jabbed the needle into Mario's neck.
The drug worked fast.
Mario's body jerked slightly, then his eyelids fluttered open. Matteo didn't wait—he splashed water on Mario's bloodied, swollen face.
Mario coughed, groaning in pain, slowly returning to full consciousness.
"Stand up," Matteo commanded coldly. "I'm not done with you yet."
Mario whimpered, trying to sit up. "Please… please, no more… I've learned my lesson…" he begged, panic flooding his voice.
But Matteo's eyes were hard, unforgiving.
You hurt someone I care about," he said…, his voice filled with restrained fury. "You laid your hands on someone I protect. Now, you've got even more problems with me."
Mario shook his head desperately, tears mixing with blood. "No… no, please… don't do this to me. Enough of this. I'm begging you."
Then, his pride flared up one last time.
"Don't forget—I'm the head of the Gambino family!" he shouted, though his voice was trembling.
Matteo didn't even blink.
The Gambino name won't save you now. Matteo said.
You can cry all you want, but no one will save you. Get ready for this. Even if I leave here for now, I won't leave you. You need to prepare yourself. You will never forget this day. No one can save you. Your name won't save you. Nothing will save you. So get ready.
You've had it too easy, living like a spoiled brat. It's time you learned a serious lesson. This isn't just a one-time thing—it's going to happen every day. I'm going to torture you. It's going to feel like you're dying every single day, but you'll still be alive. That's what life is going to be now. I'm going to make it hell for you.
And it's not just that. I've seen what you've been doing to people, to entire families. I've been watching. Some of them reported to me, but I ignored it. Why? Because of who your father was to me. I've seen how reckless you are, always starting fights, always misbehaving. I never warned you about your actions because I knew you were just a spoiled brat. Girls, money—everything you could ever want. Life has been so good for you, hasn't it? Well, money's good, isn't it? And I'll tell you something—you think money's been good to you? It's been good to me, too. That's the reason I became part of the Mafia. Because I didn't know any other way out.
Have you ever lived in the forest? I did. I was the only one who went through that kind of training. Your father told me to do it, and I did. I ate bugs. I'm not lying—on my third day, when I was too weak to hunt antelope or other wild animals, I ate whatever I could find. It was disgusting, right?"
"Yeah, it is," Mario muttered.
Matteo's eyes hardened. "You don't have the right to speak. Even if I ask you a question, keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?"
Mario didn't answer.
"I said, do you understand?" Matteo growled, his fist swinging toward Mario's face again and again.
Finally, Mario yelled, "Yes! I understand! I won't talk when you're talking!"
"You don't know what's coming. But soon, your life will feel like hell. Don't worry—I won't kill you. You're the last heir of the Gambino family. I'll use you to make sure the Gambino name is restored because you've already ruined it. You're the last one, and that's why I'm not going to kill you. But I will torture you. Every day. You'll learn what life really is. And when you finally understand that—that's when you'll truly become a man.
Matteo pulled his Beretta 92 from his suit jacket and slammed it into Mario's face. Once. Twice. Blood splattered. Mario collapsed, unconscious for the second time. But Matteo didn't stop. There was no emotion on his face. Just cold, dead eyes as he kept striking Mario with the gun, again and again—even after he'd passed out. Like he didn't care if he lived or died.