The Moral Dilemma (War of Sins Book 5)

RAF MONITORED THE COURTYARD, hoping he might spot Lucero.

It was something he did daily, and though weeks had passed, since he’d been trapped in that tunnel and she’d come to his rescue, he hadn’t seen her around again.

Somehow that… disappointed him.

He couldn’t say what about her had appealed so much to him considering he didn’t even know what she looked like. It must have been her voice and the fact that she’d put herself at risk to save two strangers.

He admired her bravery, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in knowing more about her.

So curious that he’d inquired around about her, and what he’d heard had made him even more intrigued by her.

Everyone had nothing but praises for her. She was known as something of an angel among the workers, and Charles had told him he believed it had been her who’d convinced the guards to increase their rations.

She’d been at the hacienda for years, and despite suffering at the hands of the master, she’d never turned bitter. On the contrary, she’d done her best, so others wouldn’t suffer the same. Some people had direct experiences with her, and they’d described her as a shy little thing, light-haired, but with dark eyes and strong cheekbones. Everyone had agreed she was pretty, not only because of her features, but because of the kindness that she emanated.

Rafaelo had been thrilled to hear about all the good things she’d done for the other slaves, and he was increasingly sure that he hadn’t conflated her behavior in his memory—which in turn made him more eager to see her again.

Yet despite actively looking for her, she hadn’t shown up, nor had she sought him out.

He didn’t know why he’d been so sure she would come to him. Maybe it had been his hope that she’d felt the same type of connection in the tunnels. He would have been happy even if she’d only come to check on him and his injuries, as she’d been quite worried when she patched him up.

But she’d done none of that. It was as if she’d simply forgotten about him.

Rafaelo pursed his lips as he trudged his way to the lunch line.

Maybe he should put it out of his mind. Clearly, it had been more one-sided than anything. Besides, the circumstances were all wrong for him to make a connection with someone when he wasn’t even in possession of his own freedom. For a moment, he wondered if he hadn’t felt such an affinity to her because for months—and the years past—he’d only known people’s scorn. She’d been the first to offer him a kind word in God knows how long. Perhaps that had been it…

“You deserve some kindness in your life, Raf.”

Her words rang in his head as they’d done since the moment she’d uttered them.

Somehow, they had struck something inside of him. Something that resembled… hope.

“I’m such a fool,” he groaned to himself.

Or, rather, he was so desperate for any type of kindness, that he’d mistaken it for something else. For the interest that had flared in his own heart.

Instead of chasing for the memory of someone he’d met only once, he needed to focus his resources on finding a way out of the hacienda.

Already, he’d managed to learn the layout of the land, as well as the major landmarks. But as he’d found out from other slaves, the hacienda was in a remote location, and the only way to access it was via a vehicle.

Now if he could get a car…

But there were far too many variables that he needed to consider besides the procurement of a car. After all, even if he managed to steal one, he would likely get shut down by the guards before he could leave the property.

Damn it…

Rafaelo took his lunch package, ready to go to his regular place to eat when he spotted Natalia, a girl he’d befriended in the past few weeks.

She sometimes joined him for lunch, and though he usually preferred to eat alone, he’d enjoyed having someone to make small talk with.

“What happened to you?” He frowned when he saw the ugly, jagged scar that ran in zig-zag across her face.

It was almost as if someone had taken a knife and had purposefully carved her skin.

Her eyes flared with concern as she took a step back, shaking her head at him.

“Natalia? Who did this to you?” he demanded again.

“O-one of the g-guards,” she stammered, averting her gaze.

Although the women had been allowed to join them for work only recently, Rafaelo had noticed that they were better treated than the male workers. Of course, he didn’t know what happened behind closed doors, but he assumed that because they were considered El Señor’s property, men wouldn’t go near them.

It was entirely different for the men working on the temple though, as the guards liked to pick on them any chance they got.

Bullies, the lot of them.

If anyone got hurt, instead of helping them, they laughed and taunted.

That had happened when Jackson had been injured in the tunnel, which had resulted in a potentially permanent limp for the man.

Yet because they were slaves and as such the lowest of the low, everyone liked to take the piss.

The hard work was one thing, and Rafaelo could get used to it over time. But the relentless bullying was quite another, especially when it became physical.

Rafaelo had experienced it first hand when he’d dared help the she-devil. Because he’d touched her, even to save her, the guards had decided that he needed to be punished.

He’d gotten quite the beating before being thrown in isolation for a few days to learn his mistake, and when he’d been freed from it, he’d gotten one more beating, so he wouldn’t forget his place.

He wasn’t the first, nor the last to experience such treatment from the guards. The more frail ones that couldn’t fulfill the work quota for the day were always punished, to the point that the beatings only made them weaker and unable to work further, as such perpetuating the vicious circle.

“Did he do anything else?” Raf asked, his mind going to the worst.

She shook her head, giving him a tremulous smile before she fled from his side.

He blinked in surprise.

Why would she be so frightened? Unless… They must have done something else.

God, he’d really hoped the abuse wouldn’t extend to the women too, but it seems they had. Since the sex segregation had ended, he’d feared about that on a daily basis. Being a survivor of such abuse, he knew what a toll rape took on the body and the soul. Hell, he’d fervently prayed that no one was suffering such a thing.

But now…

Now he was convinced that the guards were taking advantage of the women.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he heard a loud noise coming from the back. Rafaelo pivoted just in time to see one of the guards hit the old man he’d gotten close to in the time he’d been there.

His eyes widened just as a red haze descended upon him.

“No more food for you, old man,” the guard sneered and two others joined in, laughing.

The old man was curled on the floor, trembling from the impact of the blow.

Rafaelo didn’t think.

He just acted.

As the guard was about to strike the man again, Raf put himself in between the two of them, using his own foot to parry that of the guard.

“What…” the guard mumbled in dismay, the rebellious act no doubt stunning him.

“Leave him alone,” Rafaelo gritted out in Spanish. “Or at least pick on a worthy opponent.”

“And you think you’re a worthy opponent?” He laughed.

Raf didn’t answer, merely looking back and giving the old man a silent nod to retreat.

His bones ached, and he moved slowly, but he did what Rafaelo wanted and got out of the area of conflict.

“Try me.” Rafaelo lifted his chin up, his eyes glinting dangerously.

He’d had enough of their bullying and inhumane treatment.

“You’re a fool.” The guard shook his head, as slowly five other guards joined him, lining behind him to show their support.

They smirked at Rafaelo, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take them all.

“You’re the fool. What do you think el señor is going to do when he finds out you’ve touched his women? Or that you’re beating down people and decreasing their value? It’s a known fact that some of the people here are held up for ransom, but you don’t know which, do you? You just treat them all the same. And I doubt the ransom will be as big if they’ve been harmed in any way,” Raf spoke confidently.

If there was one thing he could depend on, it was money.

If the master was losing money in any way due to how the guards were acting, then of course he would be interested in what was happening.

Raf was well aware that words like justice or kindness had no place in their vocabulary, so he didn’t even try.

No, he went straight to the business.

All around, people stopped eating, inching their way forward as they listened raptly to the exchange. Raf knew that some spoke Spanish, while others didn’t. But that didn’t stop them from understanding the body language and the hostile stand-off between him and the guards.

More than anything, to his surprise, a few other men came forward at his back, just as the guards had done.

“He’s right. We demand proper treatment!” another man added, both in Spanish and English.

“Hear, hear,” the guard laughed. “He demands.”

More people came behind Raf, all sporting determined expressions on their faces, and Raf realized he wasn’t the only one who’d gotten sick of being mistreated.

When the guards saw the continuously increasing numbers, their features darkened as a few reached for their weapons.

“Wait,” Raf said, extending his hand to stop the men behind him. “We only want a fair treatment. And that means no stealing food, no random beatings and no more bullying,” he said as he addressed the guards.

They all stared at him as if he’d grown a second head before they burst into laughter.

“I should remind you that you’re a slave, chico. Know your fucking place.”

The man barely said the last word before he was on Raf, his fist raised and ready for attack.

Rafaelo might have eschewed the mafioso lessons of his childhood, but his sense of self-preservation was ever present as he parried the blow, using his own fist to strike at the guard.

He was a poor fighter. He knew that, but somehow the cheering from behind spurred him on, leading him to fight from an instinct he didn’t know he possessed.

Due to the months in captivity and the subsequent hard work, he wasn’t in the best shape physically. He was a little too skinny, and though his muscles had developed from the unorthodox working hours, he was still too lean to have any real strength.

But he didn’t let that stop him from attacking the guard head on, capitalizing on his speed rather than strength. He evaded the powerful blows from the guard, while laying a few strategic ones of his own.

It wasn’t long between the confrontation turned into a full-on brawl.

In the beginning, the slaves held their own against the guards. But when they realized the fight was becoming serious, the guards rang the alarm and started using their weapons.

From a small argument, it turned into a fiasco as people yelled in pain, and shots were fired.

Everyone was crowded together into a corner, the guards pushing them so they could kick them better.

Though Rafaelo started on a good note, keeping up with the fight, he ended up taking more blows than he found parry, the pain mounting every second.

When he got hit in the stomach, his breathing got cut off and he fell to his knees, wheezing as he felt as if he was suffocating. That opened him up for attack, and the guard he’d started the argument with saw him, coming forward and punching him in the face once, twice, three times. He kept on punching until Rafaelo felt his consciousness slipping from him.

In no time, the guards had all the slaves under control again, and hope was lost once more.

Yet despite losing, Rafaelo couldn’t help but be pleased with the outcome. He’d fought for what was right. How could he possibly be mad at himself when he’d seen an injustice and taken a stance against it.

If anything, losing was just the beginning.