He stood, going to the door and leaving only Fiske’s hand to keep me from rolling off the table. My head fell to the side and Fiske came back into view, his dark hair falling around his face as he worked at cleaning my shoulder. I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. I couldn’t feel anything. “Who are you?” The words cracked in my chest. He stilled, the hard angles of his face severe in the dim light. The heat of a tear slowly trailed down the side of my face. “Who are you to my brother?” His mouth pressed together before he answered, his hands stilling on the wound. “He’s my brother. And if you
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