Page 144 of Dishonored

Action she wouldn’t take.

She was being challenged at every turn. She hadn’t expected it to be easy. She didn’t think it would be this hard, either.

Life in Camorra as a woman had always been a little too fucking suffocating. And even now, it was just as horrible, only maybe worse given her position. They were looking for a reason to discard her—something to give them any reason at all to replace her.

And she understood why.

She would do it, too, if needed.

Mostly, she was just unhappy.

And lonely.

Nico dropped onto the couch beside her, and handed Aria a mug of coffee. “You look sad.”

“I am,” she said quietly.

“Why? Don’t you have everything you want, now?”

Almost.

Mae clicked her tongue, drawing their attention to where she was sketching with a pad and charcoal next to the window. “She won’t even smile for me, Nico.”

Aria did smile at that. “I always smile for you, Mae.”

More so, now.

Her sister-in-law—Mae would always be family regardless if her useless brother was dead or not—had the chance to do whatever she wanted. Be whatever she wanted to be, now. Aria was going to keep working to make sure the girl could do exactly that from here on out.

Including keeping control of the Camorra.

Mae would not be someone’s pawn.

“Okay,” Mae corrected, giving Nico a look, “but she doesn’t smile as much for me.”

“Mmm,” Nico hummed. “Sad thing, that is.”

Fucking Nico.

“I miss him,” Aria admitted.

The first time she had willingly admitted it.

Mae passed Aria a look—her newest confidant next to Nico. It was best she have both a male and female with her at all times so that her behavior and actions couldn’t be questioned. They needed to be people Camorra respected and trusted. Mae and Nico were both of those things, thankfully.

Nico sighed. “This was not a part of the plan.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Mae glanced over her sketchpad. “Does he—this Caesar—have the kind of face I can draw?”

Aria wet her lips, and nodded. “He has a beautiful face. Handsome and haunted.”

“Oh, I like him already.”

Nico, on the other hand, was still on their previous conversation. “What are you going to do now? About him, I mean.”

“Let him bury his father,” she told her friend, “and have his time.”