16
Lucas
I spend the week after our return from Chicago dealing with the aftermath of the trip and recuperating from my injuries. According to Goldberg, our estate doctor, I have cracked ribs and a few first-degree burns on my back and arms—injuries that are beyond minor in light of the battle we survived.
“You’re one lucky son of a b***h,” Diego says when I finally sit down with him and Eduardo to catch up on the Yulia situation. “All those guys…”
“Yeah.” My teeth ache from clenching my jaw all day long. The faces of our dead men haunt me, just like those of the guards who died in the plane crash. Over the past couple of months, we’ve lost more than seventy of our people, and the mood on the compound is grim, to say the least.
Between organizing funerals, finding new recruits, and cl
