He knew what the other Alpha saw when he looked at him, though Dunlap’s expression never betrayed his horror-a practiced talent, Edmund was certain. The older gentleman’s gaze moved over him in the same assessing way it always did, leaving Edmund with a bitter taste in his mouth. The door opened partway and the surgeon, Dr. He didn’t bother to respond, knowing full well that no one in this house but the servants bothered to wait for acknowledgement before entering, and it was past time to expect a servant. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and drew him unwillingly from the gloom that had become his internal landscape. The cannon had done more than its share of damage, leaving him in ruin and unable to even rise from his bed without assistance. Not that Edmund hoped to recover he hardly saw the point. His injuries were far too severe for him to expect a tolerable recovery. He knew there was little else to be done. The throbbing in his leg seemed to pulse in time with the ticking of the damnable device, which only served to double his misery. The clock on the mantle was going to drive him mad.
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