The Moral Dilemma (War of Sins Book 5)

“BREATHE, NOELLE, BREATHE,” Lucero rubbed soothing circles on her back in an attempt to calm her.

“I’m trying,” Noelle whizzed, her hands gripping onto her stomach. “I don’t think we have much longer, Lulu,” she said through pained breaths.

Lucero’s panic mirrored her own as she felt the start of a contraction. She gripped her friend’s hand tightly, trying her best to breathe in and out.

“That phone you mentioned. Do you think you can get it?”

“Noelle…”

“I know it’s dangerous, but I need to call my brother. I’ll swallow my pride. Hell, I’ll do anything as long as he can get me out of here before my son comes,” Noelle gritted her teeth. “He can’t be born here, Lulu. My Mali can’t be born here. You know that.”

“I do,” her friend sighed. “I’ll try to get it. Will you be alright on your own?”

Noelle nodded.

“Go,” she mouthed to Lucero.

As she hurried out of the room, Noelle stood up, wobbling down to the bathroom to take a look at herself. She looked like a nightmare, with dark circles under her eyes and hollows in her cheeks. God, she hadn’t seen a doctor for the entire duration of her pregnancy.

Although she’d tried to look after herself as best as she could, it was nothing compared to the care of a trained physician. She didn’t want to think that there might be something wrong with her baby, but the worry was ever present.

Despite her best efforts to the contrary, stress had been her faithful companion throughout her pregnancy. She couldn’t help but worry about everything around her. About her own safety and that of her baby, about her friend who was always risking so much to help her, and about Raf.

It had been months since she’d last seen or heard from him, and she didn’t even know if he was still alive. The only thing she was sure of was that Sergio had not killed him—if he had, he would have gloated by now. But that didn’t discount the countless other dangers he would have faced as he escaped. He was, after all, in a foreign country, and in poor physical condition.

Had he made it back home safely? Was he healthy?

Did he… remember her?

“If only he could be here,” she whispered, pressing her hand over her baby bump. “He should have been here to see your birth,” she continued as tears coursed down her cheeks.

For a moment—just a moment—she dared dream how this would have looked in an alternate reality.

Raf would be by her side, holding her in his arms as she went through the pains of labor. He would whisper comforting words into her ear, allaying all her fears and making her feel safe. Most importantly, he would be present to witness the moment his son came into the world.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, swallowing hard against the wave of anguish that overtook her. So many months alone with her thoughts and she could finally recognize just how wrong she’d been. This was all her fault. She had been the one to bring this all upon herself. If only she’d had more restraint… If only she hadn’t gone to him that night.

Yet to regret that was to regret the most beautiful moments she’d ever experienced in her life. To rue that was to regret the conception of her baby—of Mali. And how could she do that?

Not for the first time, she found herself at a crossroads, not knowing which feeling she should focus on. She was happy that she was going to become a mother—she was ecstatic that she was carrying Raf’s child, for she loved him as much as she loved his father.

But she also blamed herself for the circumstances in which she found herself. Yes, she wanted to have this baby. But God, if only she could have had him at a different time, when she wasn’t the prisoner of a sadistic and demented man.

She loved her baby, but she hated herself. Because of her actions, she couldn’t ensure Mali’s safety, let alone her own. And if something were to happen to her baby… If Sergio dared to do anything to him.

Pure terror gripped her tightly, her throat closing up as she struggled for air.

“Not my baby. Please, God…”

She’d never been overly religious, but in that moment, she was willing to do anything—try anything—as long as she could ensure the safety of her unborn baby.

This state of pure anxiety had plagued her for the entire duration of her pregnancy, as she’d feared an attack at any point. Knowing Sergio and his wounded ego, she was certain he would retaliate at some point, striking her when she was at her lowest. And now… That moment was fast approaching.

Noelle knew that she would be at her most vulnerable when the labor pains would set in, even more so after the birth. For that reason, she needed to act fast. Although she was aware she’d sent Lucero on a suicide mission to get a phone, it was the only way out.

It was at that moment that Mali decided to move, and she nearly doubled over from the strength of the kick.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she sank to the floor.

“Noelle?” Lucero’s voice echoed in the apartment.

“Here,” she replied in a barely audible voice.

“My God, are you alright?” Lucero hurried to her side, looking her up and down.

“A little pain,” she grimaced. “I can handle it.”

Lucero helped her get up, leading her back to the bedroom, so that she could lay down in bed, all the while chastising her for moving around while in pain.

“Here, call your brother. Tell him to come right away. I don’t know how long you have left until the baby will come.”

Noelle blinked, squinting as she tried to focus on the item in Lucero’s outstretched hand. A little slow, she reached for the phone, taking it and dialing her brother’s number.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she waited for the call to go through.

“Hello?”

“Cisco?” Noelle croaked.

“Noelle? Is that you? Why are you calling?”

“Please help…” she managed to utter before her eyes filled with terror as she saw the door swing open. Before she could say another word, Sergio had his gun cocked and aimed at her belly. He raised a brow at her, the implication clear.

Giving him a slow nod, she slowly put the phone down, ending the call.

Lucero stared at Sergio before looking back at Noelle as if she couldn’t comprehend how he’d known…

“You,” Sergio pointed to Lucero. “What did I say about no contact with the outside world?” he asked in a chilling voice.

Lucero took a step back.

“Watch out,” Noelle yelled just as Sergio aimed his gun at Lucero, shooting at her.

The bullet hit her in the shoulder, making her reel back and fall to the ground.

“Lulu,” Noelle cried out, struggling to get out of bed.

“Don’t move,” Sergio gritted out, aiming his gun toward her again. “Don’t you fucking dare move.”

“She needs a doctor!” Noelle exclaimed, her eyes fixed on Lucero and the blood pooling on the ground.

“Do I look like I care?” Sergio rolled his eyes. “Try to do something like this again and the next bullet will be between your eyes.”

Before Noelle could muster a reply, he was gone, the door locking in place behind him.

Shuffling out of bed, Noelle fell to her knees. Unable to get back to her feet, she crawled toward her friend.

“Lulu? Please say something,” she whispered, terrified Sergio might have killed her.

“It hurts,” Lucero groaned. “I never realized how painful getting shot was,” she said, cracking a smile as Noelle reached her side.

“There’s so much blood,” she swallowed hard. “We need to stop the bleeding. But what about the bullet? We need to get the bullet out…” She was already freaking out, unable to think clearly. God, but she could barely stand up on her own, let alone go to the bathroom for the first aid kit.

Lucero, noting her strained expression, shook her head.

“I can do it. It’s not so bad,” she murmured, though the pain was unbearable.

“There’s so much blood,” Noelle repeated, her gaze fixed to the floor.

“I’m fine. Truly.”

And to prove that she was indeed fine, Lucero stood up. She pressed her hand to her shoulder as she walked to the bathroom. There was, indeed, a lot of blood, but she didn’t think the bullet had hit anything vital—or so she hoped.

Shrugging her shirt off, she quickly poured some disinfectant over the wound and patched it up. It didn’t look great, but it didn’t look bad either. Certainly, it could wait a little more. Noelle, on the other hand, couldn’t.

She quickly put herself together as best as she could before going back to her friend.

Noelle was still on the floor, in the same spot Lucero had left her. She was utterly still, so much so that Lucero became worried.

“Noelle?” she called out.

“Something’s wrong, Lulu,” she uttered in a low, desolate voice. “I…” she trailed off as liquid pooled to her feet.

“Your water broke,” Lucero said, her eyes wide.

Noelle slowly turned her head, her expression one of pure terror. She might not be too knowledgeable about pregnancy in general, but she was aware that once her water broke she had a limited time at best before delivery.

“Let’s get you in bed,” Lulu suggested, helping her up.

It was hard on both of them. Noelle could barely move due to her belly, and Lucero was recently shot. That she was able to ignore her pain to help Noelle was a wonder in itself, but not one that didn’t take its toll on her body.

“Your wound…” Noelle exclaimed when she saw the blood trickle down her arm. “Lulu! What are we going to do?” she cried out, her emotions finally bursting through the surface.

She’d never felt so vulnerable or so afraid before, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. Her maternal instincts surged forth, her main focus on the wellbeing of her baby. But how could she protect him when she couldn’t protect herself? When her friend was doing her best to help her with a bullet in her shoulder? When Sergio was lying in wait for the moment she’d have her guard down, and then he’d strike?

How the hell could she protect her baby when she wasn’t sure what the next moment would bring?

“You need to calm down,” Lulu said. “You won’t solve anything if you stress about it. I’m fine, see?” To prove her point, Lucero moved her arm around. Though it pained her to do so, she also understood that Noelle wasn’t thinking logically anymore. She was terrified—a normal response considering her condition and their circumstances. But because she was aware of what her friend was going through, Lucero decided to put on a strong front.

“Are you sure? You’re still bleeding.” Noelle’s lip quivered as she regarded her with suspicion.

“I’m sure.” She nodded. “Here, lay down and I’ll go grab some more towels and disinfectant.”

“Lulu… You need to get the bullet out,” Noelle continued, as if she hadn’t heard her. “You can’t leave it in. What if you get an infection?”

“Let me worry about that. For now, we have to make sure Mali is fine, okay?”

Noelle reluctantly nodded, getting into a comfortable position on the bed. Lucero gave her a small smile before she left the room.

A few hours passed, and Noelle was in and out of sleep until her contractions started to get more pronounced and closer together—a sign that she was about to go into labor.

“Lulu?” she called out, her voice worn out from the pain.

“I’m here,” she replied, entering her room and laying down a bucket full of hot water and several towels. She also brought in some bottles of alcohol. Since she couldn’t find any actual disinfectant, she’d decided that alcohol would do.

“I’m scared,” Noelle admitted, voicing her fear out loud for the first time. “What if something happens?”

“Nothing will happen.” Lucero tried to comfort her.

“If it comes down to me and the baby…” she trailed off, swallowing hard. “Choose him.”

“Noelle—” Lucero’s eyes widened.

“Please promise me. Promise me you’ll save him and take care of him.”

“I won’t let you die.” She shook her head.

“Sometimes things just happen.” Noelle gave her a sad smile. “I’m starting to make peace with my past and everything that I’ve done—everything that led me here. I’ve been ready for death for a long time, Lulu. But as long as my baby lives, then I can go in peace.”

“Please don’t say that.” Lucero took her hand in hers. “I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you.”

“Promise me,” Noelle croaked. “Please.”

“I promise you,” Lucero eventually relented.

Noelle smiled, squeezing her hand.

“I’ve never told you before, but I love you like my sister. I’m so lucky to have been able to meet you, Lulu. I want you to know that,” she murmured, tears shining in her eyes.

Lucero started crying too, unable to stop the tears from falling as she reached for Noelle to give her a hug.

“I love you, too, and I won’t let you die. I won’t,” she added vehemently.

Noelle didn’t reply, simply holding her for a moment. She was well aware that nothing Lucero could do would help her. Giving birth was a dangerous avenue even with an army of doctors around. What could two girls achieve by themselves? Especially when one of them was the one going into labor.

Lucero did her best to make her comfortable, but it wasn’t long before her active labor began. The contractions were swift and painful, and every single moment she felt as if she was going to pass out.

Settling between her open legs, Lucero monitored her dilation, and when she spotted the head of the baby come through, she cried out, “Push!”

Noelle did as told, pushing with all her might.

Her hands were wrapped tightly in the bedsheets, pulling against them every time she had to push.

“Breathe,” Lucero reminded her.

“It hurts,” she whizzed, barely able to get the word out.

“I know, but he’s almost here. You’re a fighter, Noelle. So do what you do best—fight!”

Noelle gritted her teeth, giving her a brisk nod and taking a deep breath before pushing again.

It went on for what felt like forever, and the baby wasn’t coming through. Noelle was becoming exhausted and dehydrated. Her strength was waning, and that was what she’d been afraid of. God, but if she’d been at a hospital, they could have already done a C-section on her and saved the baby. The longer he was stuck, the more dangerous it was—even she knew that.

She focused on her breathing as she closed her eyes.

“Our baby, Raf”, she whispered to herself. I can’t let anything happen to him.

Her body was near its breaking point, but using what little strength she had left, she gave a few more pushes.

“Just a bit more. You can do it, Noelle!”

Noelle shook her head. She didn’t think she could do it anymore. She was tired. So, so tired.

“One more push. Come on,” Lucero urged gently. “You can do it.”

Her face was red from the effort, but she knew she couldn’t give up.

All her life, she’d marched forward, giving everything her best. She wasn’t about to let this one event end her, just as she wasn’t about to let anything happen to her baby.

Mali.

She honed in on the name, as well as her vision of what her baby would look like—lovely like his father—and that was all it took for her to give that final push.

A sharp cry broke through the air, and Noelle tried to hang onto it. It was so beautiful—the sweetest melody. But even as she strained to keep her eyes open—to look at her child—she found that she couldn’t anymore.

He’s alive.

That was the only thing she needed to know before she let herself go, the ghost of a smile on her face.