He arrived at the hacienda. He was a thin, nervous man, with hands that trembled slightly as Don Eduardo explained what he needed. “Don Eduardo,” the doctor murmured. “What you’re asking for is complicated. The young woman is quite far along in her pregnancy.” “I don’t mind if it’s complicated,” Don replied.
Eduardo. Do it. But before the doctor could go up to Isabelle’s room, the screaming began. This time it didn’t come from the stables, it came from the main house. José had come in through the kitchen, his hands wrapped in chains he had broken at the forge. Miguel and four others
Slaves followed him, armed with machetes, hammers, and any tool they could find. The first soldier they encountered died before he could scream. José stabbed him in the head with a force born of years of repressed hatred for Tomás. He screamed, and his words became the battle cry of
