The Betrayer's Dilemma

A week later, Julius Jackman finally returned from his long trip. His legs bore fresh bruises from the relentless kicks Henry had given him for minor mistakes. To protect his family and his life, Julius had become the most ruthless of all the guardsmen at the estate, turning a blind eye to the pain and suffering of his own people.

Darius and his companions had been waiting for Julius’s return, hoping he might be their way out of the Wellington estate. What they didn’t know was that Julius was no savior. He was a walking disaster—someone who had betrayed and destroyed countless lives to survive.

Upon his arrival, Avarora hurried to explain the situation. “I told Henry that Darius is my cousin and the rest are his friends. I said they were new hires.”

Julius’s expression darkened. “You mean to tell me you brought outsiders here and lied to Henry? You’ve signed your own death sentence—and mine! You need to leave immediately!”

Peter stepped forward, desperation evident in his tone. “We can’t. Someone is after us. We don’t have money, supplies, or weapons to travel. As one of us, we’re begging for your help.”

Julius shook his head. “They keep meticulous records of who comes and goes. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out you’re not from here. I can’t risk my family’s safety for you.”

Unaware that they were rebels with a mission to overthrow the regime, Julius saw no reason to take such a gamble.

Darius spoke with measured calm. “Mr. Jackman, we appreciate everything your wife has done for us. We don’t want to put your family in danger. We only ask for your help to sneak out of the estate. That’s all.”

“Darius!” Peter objected, but Darius raised a hand to silence him.

Logan, unable to hold back, countered, “We can’t just leave! This estate could be the start of something bigger. A stronghold where we can secure allies and weapons.”

Hans scoffed, pointing to his bruises. “You’ve got to be kidding! This place is a deathtrap. Let’s just worry about getting out alive.”

Julius, catching the gravity of their words, narrowed his eyes. “What stronghold? What allies?” He studied their faces and pieced it together: they were planning a rebellion. His hand shot to his gun. “Outlaws!” he snarled, pointing the weapon at Darius. “Who are you running from? Why did you come here?”

“Julius!” Avarora cried out, stepping between them.

“Whoa! Brother, calm down!” Tom pleaded. “They’re just talking nonsense. We’re not outlaws. We’re not here to cause trouble. We’ll find our own way out.”

Julius didn’t budge, his grip on the gun steady.

“Julius, listen to me!” Avarora urged. “I vouched for them to Henry. If he finds out they’re runaways, none of us will survive. Put the gun down, and let’s figure out what to do—for all our sakes.”

After a tense moment, Julius lowered the gun. He turned to Avarora, his face red with anger. “Bringing outlaws to our house? What were you thinking?”

“Tom is my cousin,” Avarora defended. “I grew up with him. Whatever he’s running from, I know he’s not capable of anything evil.”

Julius glared at the group. “I don’t trust you. But I don’t have a choice. I’ll help you leave. Stay out of sight until tomorrow morning. I’ll take you with me when I head to town for supplies.”

“What about Henry?” Darius asked cautiously.

“I’ll think of something,” Julius replied, his tone grim.

The next day, the group kept their heads down, working in the fields as Julius had instructed. Everything seemed to be going according to plan until a shadow from their past arrived at the estate.

A man, young and sharp-eyed, stepped through the gates, his gaze searching. He had followed the trail of his runaways to the very estate he feared most. With Major General Fred Wellington away, the man believed this was his chance to reclaim what he had lost.

Darius and the others were about to face a new threat—one that could unravel all their efforts to escape.