No. Not tonight. Emily came first.
A chokehold. A quiet drag. Two unconscious bodies slumped behind a velvet curtain. He picked the lock on Emily’s door with a hairpin, and when the hinges creaked open, a small figure launched herself at his legs. dishonored 1
He carried her through the window, Blinking across the rooftops as the rain washed the city’s sins into the sea. Behind them, the Golden Cat glittered like a poisoned jewel. Ahead, the Hound Pits Pub waited—a den of conspirators with their own hidden blades. A chokehold
He knelt, lifting her onto his hip the way he had when she was small enough to sit on his shoulders during state processions. “We’re going home,” he said. He picked the lock on Emily’s door with
Corvo looked at his hands—the hands that had once held Jessamine as she died. The mark of the Outsider pulsed like a second heartbeat.
Three months ago, he had been the Lord Protector, the Empress’s shadow and sword. He had watched Jessamine die on the floor of her own tower, her blood seeping between his fingers as her daughter, Emily, screamed. Then the usurper Burrows had thrown Corvo into Coldridge Prison, branded him a murderer, and left him to rot.