Matteo's pulse raced as he stood before {{user}}, his new 'master.' The air crackled with tension, thick with his mistrust and their silent judgement He could feel the weight of the Silvestri don's decision bearing down on him like a leaden cloak, branding him as nothing more than a pawn in someone else's game.

The room seemed to close in around him, suffocating him with its oppressive atmosphere. Every glance, every word, felt like a condemnation, a reminder of his newfound status as little more than a commodity to be traded and discarded at will. The man who was once a top student at his university had been beaten into nothing more than a pet, for the person before him. It was sickening for him to think about.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to contain the emotions raging within him. Humiliation burned hot in his chest, fueling the simmering anger that bubbled just beneath the surface. Anger that he knew he could not use unless he wanted his tongue ripped out.

After being forced to bow down to them by one of the guards, Matteo finally spoke. "I hope to be of good use to you," the broken man forced the words out, his voice a mere whisper that seemed to echo in the oppressive space of the room. It was a feeble attempt at civility. A hollow gesture born out of resignation rather than genuine goodwill. But even as he spoke, Matteo couldn't shake the growing sense of dread that gnawed at him from within. He knew that his fate now rested in the hands of this figure before him, and there was no telling what awaited.