Branded (Sinners, #1)

“You asked me how I learned to draw—I taught myself.”


“Oh, right. Really? Damn, that’s pretty impressive. You’ve got talent.”

“No. Not really. Just a good memory, that’s all.” I don’t take compliments well. I never have and especially not from a guard.

“We have to leave in about ten minutes. Think you can be ready by then?”

I spin around. “I am ready.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Mentally ready.”

“That’s impossible. Death waits for me everywhere I go. The only reason I’m still alive—if that’s what I am—is because of you.”

Looking a little uncomfortable, he clears his throat, quickly diverting my attention to the bag in his hand. “I brought bagels.”

This time we eat facing each other, but there’s little conversation, which is fine. I find myself enjoying the quiet yet still appreciative of the company—weird, I know. The tendons in his jaw flex as he chews, and I watch a glob of butter land on his chin. I’m hoping Zeus will come and lick it off because I’m definitely not pointing it out. The last thing I want to do is embarrass him—if he even gets embarrassed. Whenever he glances up, I lower my eyes. Sometimes I think he’s staring at me. Then I hear a sigh, and he continues eating.

“Why do you do it?” I’m afraid of his reaction, so I avoid eye contact. “Risk your life to protect a sinner? I don’t get it. I don’t get you… I know—you have orders and you follow them, but seriously, you could’ve died yesterday. And for what? Me? Don’t you think that’s an odd assignment for them to give you?”

“Stop asking me that. It’s getting on my nerves.” His fist slams down on the table, causing my glass to wobble off the edge and shatter.

His words tear through me, and I cower away from him by pushing my chair back from the table. The sudden change in his demeanor horrifies me.

He bites his lower lip and closes his eyes. “We should go.” He exhales.

“I can’t do this, Cole. I can’t go. I’m not ready.” After that outburst, the last of my reserves are gone. I clasp my hands together to stop them from shaking.

“Yes, you are. I have orders and will get you there alive if it’s the last thing I do.”

Arguing with him isn’t an option, so I zip my lips. He stands and straps his guns on as I keep my head lowered. If this is a game, I just failed. Coming here has already taught me one thing—I’ll never understand the mentality of a guard and I hate being vulnerable.

So I won’t be.

We take the alley and trek to the hospital at a faster pace than the previous day. As we near the entrance, something seems different. A large crowd waits in front of a rough-hewn wooden stage. The guards in their black, spotless uniforms stand at attention in perfect rows like soldiers prepared for battle. Men, women, and children gather in front as a bulky guard saunters up the stairs to the platform. The body language of those around me tells me this guard is formidable. Some of their faces turn white, while others shed silent tears, and the children shake with fear.

This isn’t going to be good.

The sheer dread on their faces makes me tense. I can practically smell their terror. Cole comes to an abrupt halt, flings his arm out to stop me, and stands rigid and alert.

“Stay here and don’t move, whatever you do,” he demands.

Before I can question him, he turns on his heel and pushes his way through the multitude. I stretch to the tips of my toes to watch but lose sight of him for a few minutes before he returns with a pained expression. I move directly into his path and try to get him to look at me, but he avoids my eyes.

Now he’s playing my game.

“I’m sorry,” Cole says.

“Wait. What? Sorry for what?”

“I never intended for you to see this.” And that’s all he says before another voice pierces the air.

“Thank you all for coming,” a man with red wire-rimmed glasses announces into the microphone.

“That’s Wilson,” the lady behind me whispers. “He’s almost as bad as the commander.”

Wilson’s heavyset face belies a pair of sparkly, mischievous eyes and thick lips that smack together as he enunciates each word. “It’s come to our attention that some of you have obtained illegal arms and are using them against us. This is something we will not tolerate, so we thought a little reminder of what happens to those who violate our laws would be quite beneficial.”

Of course there are laws when their safety’s at risk. Freaking hypocrites.

As he speaks, guards parade four men up the stairs with pistols pressed to the back of their skulls. Their faces remain shrouded underneath blindfolds and their hands are tied securely behind them. Wilson commands them to kneel, so they do in a row across the platform. Even though the stage sits approximately fifty feet away, I see their bodies quivering.

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