Page 148 of Dishonored

They couldn’t get on their feet fast enough.

They were already too late.

Caesar lifted his gun, aimed, and fired.

Davide, Angelo’s consigliere before his death, took a bullet right to the forehead. It sent the man flying back from the head of the table, and crashing into the glass stand behind him. Knickknacks and shards went flying—the dead man’s body lie bleeding on the floor.

Cain already had his gun up, and he took his shot, too. Like his friend, he didn’t miss when he aimed for Angelo’s old underboss, Christoph. He blew the side of the man’s head out, and made quite a mess on the far wall when it became splattered with Christoph’s brain matter.

Caesar lowered his gun.

All eyes were on them, now.

He smiled. “Now, who thought they could have a meeting without inviting us?” he asked the silent room.

Gazes darted around.

These men looked like they wanted to bolt.

Caesar passed a cursory nod to the one man who had actually filled him in on this meeting that was to take place right after Angelo’s funeral that afternoon.

Daniele.

He wasn’t sure if his half-brother was trying to save his own skin, or he was feeling some kind of guilt about everything that had happened. It really didn’t matter at the end of the day. What was important was that Caesar would not be letting any fucking man make a plan on his life like he was just going to stand there and take it.

Even if that meant hurting them.

Or taking over the organization.

Maybe killing a few.

Whatever it took—here he fucking was.

Caesar moved around the table as Cain stayed in his position with his gun aimed and ready. He took the seat that Davide had first been sitting in, but not before he kicked the dead man’s leg out of the way, so he could roll the chair back in its proper place.

Sitting down at the head of the table, Caesar moved it closer and gave another one of his brilliant, cocky smiles to the dumbfounded men. He set his gun to the table, and then gestured with a single finger at the men, saying, “There seems to be some kind of confusion about what’s going to happen to me from here on out, but that’s okay. I’m here to correct any kind of misconception you all have. Shall we get started—do any of you want to go first, or should I?”

The men stayed silent.

Caesar figured that.

It was kind of hard to find the balls to talk when there was a gun pointed at you, and the man you were planning to kill just foiled everything you were working for.

Karma really was beautiful.

Leaning back in the chair to appear more relaxed, Caesar folded his arms over his chest, and eyed each of the men individually. “You know, I could go through each one of you, and humiliate you with different things. Which of your wives or daughters I’ve had the pleasure of bending over some variation of a flat surface—hell, Micky, I didn’t even need a flat surface for your wife, did I? Ever get the back of your Mercedes cleaned?”

The Capo in question turned cherry red from Caesar’s statement.

Caesar laughed, and nodded. “Yeah, see, we could do that whole thing. And I could explain to each and every single one of you how you’ve all been dishonored in some way by me, but I don’t think we need to do that. You are all compromised, though. And unless you want those details to leave this room—see, I have more than just memories when it comes to the shit I’ve done because I’ve been waiting for this day—we’re going to sit here, and have a nice conversation about how I plan to take over this family, and what I want to do with it.”

Dead stares.

Clenched jaws.

Shaking fists.

Their rage was palpable.