Roman
High above the mountains, the helicopter flew in and out of icy clouds. The loud whirl of the helicopter's blades muted discussion. Nevertheless, for my own survival, I needed to stay aware.
From my seat, I stared over at the Duke of Wilmington. Francis's face was swollen, making him look as though he'd gone multiple rounds in a boxing match. The royal medic at his side stitched lacerations and applied a mask. From what I could gather, the mask had coolant to aid in inhibiting future swelling. I'd heard talk of a broken jaw.
For only a moment during our transfer, my brother-in-law had awakened. His words were mere muffled mumbles yet his ice-cold blue stare, the one coming from within purple contusions, was cognizant, accusing, and even threatening. His injuries weren't limited to
