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64: Wedding

*Tristan*

Studying my reflection in the mirror, I tug on my light gray waistcoat. It takes an inordinate amount of time to dress these days. My hand has healed but the mobility in it isn't what it once was. Dr. Grimley set the bones together as best as he could. I'm grateful for that, at least. I haven't lost my hand completely, and I'm learning to write with my right.

In retrospect, I suppose I could have told Grimmock from the outset that I was left-handed, so he would have broken the right, but I'm familiar enough with the man's torturous ways to know that a time would come when I would have signed anything the man put before me in order to stop the pain. And I would be damned before I gave the man anything that belonged to Eve or to Mick, for that matter.

So damned I am.

But not as much as Grimmock.

During the three months since my rescue, I have found myself spending more time with my brothers, and I wonder why I had resisted being in their company for so long. Late into th
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