Chapter 19 - Blood on the Wheels
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“Matteo, please!” Lorenzo begged, closing his eyes tightly and leaning away from the barrel of the gun. “We grew up together! We bled for this family together! Have mercy!”
Matteo stared down at the man who had been his right hand for a decade. He felt no anger anymore. Only the cold, mechanical necessity of absolute power. In the mafia, mercy was a disease that spread until it killed the host.
“You showed no mercy when you celebrated my death under my own roof,” Matteo said quietly.
He pulled the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening in the grand ballroom. Lorenzo’s body went limp instantly, collapsing onto the marble floor.
Matteo didn't flinch. He slowly lowered his weapon, clicking the safety back on. He looked at the loyal guards standing around the room. They were staring at him with a renewed, terrified reverence. The boss was back, and he was more ruthless than ever.
“Clean this up,” Matteo ordered flatly, turning his wheelchair around.
He rolled out of the ballroom, his rubber wheels leaving faint tracks in the blood pooled on the floor.
Elena was waiting for him in the foyer. She looked at the bloody tire tracks, then up at his face. There was a silent understanding between them now. They had both gotten their revenge tonight.
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“Take me upstairs,” Matteo said, exhaustion finally creeping into his voice. “The war with the Morettis officially starts tomorrow. I need to rest.”
Elena walked behind him, and for the first time, she placed her hands lightly on the rubber grips of his wheelchair, helping him push forward toward the elevator. It wasn't an act of pity; it was an act of partnership. They were going to burn the rival families to the ground together.
