Page 132 of Dishonored

And entirely dark.

“It didn’t matter?”

Angelo tipped his chin up at Caesar’s words. “No, I—”

“It didn’t matter?” Caesar scoffed, and shook his head. “No, what you mean to say was it wouldn’t be convenient for you, and who you are to know that your son was being sexually abused by your fucking wife!”

His father said nothing.

He didn’t even try to deny it.

And suddenly, things made so much more sense to him.

It all came in with a clarity so sharp, it hurt his mind.

“That’s why,” Caesar said quietly.

Angelo raised a brow. “Why, what?”

“All these years. Everything I did that you excused, or covered up, or overlooked. All the times I broke every rule that could have justified you putting me in a grave—the way I’ve dishonored our name time and time again. Despite all the things I have done, and the ways I’ve hurt people you care about … this is why.”

“Son,” Angelo started to say.

“Because you felt guilty,” Caesar continued, uncaring about what he had to say. “You felt guilty about what she had done, and what you knew. And this was your way of apologizing or making it up to me?”

Caesar laughed again, and pointed a finger at his father. “I don’t want your fucking apologies, Angelo. I want you to give me what I want now. After everything, you owe me.”

Once again, Angelo said nothing.

And once again, he didn’t deny it.

Cain was sitting on the front stoop of the unfamiliar home when Caesar pulled his Corvette into the driveway. He expected to see more vehicles there—surely Aria would have made some calls the moment she was returned to her house, but it didn’t look like she had done that.

Stepping out of the car, Caesar stared up at the inky sky. Dotted with faint stars, the blackened canvas matched his mind right about then.

He was pissed.

Hurt.

Standing on unsteady ground.

His usual go-to when he felt like this was to act out—hurt someone back just because he could. Because they never cared enough to know he was hurting.

Caesar went and sat down with his friend on the step instead. “I’m surprised she doesn’t have a whole army here.”

Cain shrugged. “She went in and cooked food, actually.”

“Huh.”

“Her friend—Nico—left about an hour ago.”

Caesar nodded. “He’s not half bad. Less violent and unpredictable than Aria is, anyway. Pretty sure that’s a mark in his favor.”

“He’s not us, either.”

“Yeah, well … depending on who the us is in that statement, he might be a hell of a lot better regardless of where he comes from.”

At that statement, Cain stiffened a bit beside Caesar. He’d been there at the dinner—he would have heard the things that were said.