Branded (Sinners, #1)

Fear overrules my humiliation. My fingers tremble and my heart flutters anxiously. I stay close behind him as we enter the training center. The last thing I want to do is enter a building teeming with more guards, but I have no other choice.

The training center looks like an indoor dome. Different stations take up sections of the massive room. On the walls, I glimpse an arsenal of weapons comprised of numerous makes and models of guns and knives of all sizes and even unsuspecting weapons such as sticks and batons. Everything gleams in the light as if polished daily. I don’t have a name for most of the things I see, but I know they’re all lethal in the hands of a guard. At one particular station, men line in a row, shooting at a moving target. The noise is deafening without ear protection and I cringe at the echo of each discharge. Another group suit up in all of their combat gear to perform a simulated attack. Some turn to watch us, while others focus on the task at hand.

“Keep your head down and walk,” Cole says to me. Zeus growls at the man nearest to us, so the man turns around and goes in another direction. The elevator door closes after we step in and Cole swipes his badge.

In the relative safety of the elevator, I can’t hold it in any longer. “I can’t believe he killed her. Why would he kill her? If he loved her—”

“Because he loved her.” Cole cuts me off. Without any invitation, he keeps talking. “Everyone’s known about Mac and Claire for a while. Mac’s been a friend of mine since we joined the guards. I have no doubt he did it because he loved her. He knew they’d torture her just to break him. And they’d do it in front of him.” Cole pauses and closes his eyes for a moment. “He killed her out of love. The very love that most of us will never feel because we aren’t allowed.”

“Wow. How did I not see that?” I ask.

“Because you don’t know what it feels like to be in love.”

“And you do?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“What was up with Zeus back there?”

Zeus cocks his head when I mention his name. Cole leans against the wall and puts his hands on top of his head.

“That’s him being protective of you, I guess. Not sure why he didn’t rip off the guy’s head in the garage, but he didn’t.”

“He can do that?”

“Have you not seen his teeth?”

“Okay, stupid question.” I look down at Zeus as he presses his wet nose into my thigh. I place both of my hands around his head and kiss him between his ears. “Thank you.”

Nothing more is said. One, because I’m trying to block out what I just witnessed, and two, because I want to forget about the “him being in love” question. The elevator heaves to a stop. Getting off at the eighth floor is harder today than yesterday, but I put my shoulders back and walk toward the desk, attempting to mentally compose myself.

Cole signs me in. “I’ll be back at seven,” he says in a brusque manner.

“Yes, sir.” The trauma of the morning has me itching to go back to my dirty room and lie on my mattress.

Without any further instructions, Cole reenters the elevator with Zeus. Rage is written on his face as he punches the buttons. His eyes narrow to slits and his posture stiffens as if ready for a fight. I make eye contact with him just as the door closes with a squeal. If anyone accused him of rage, he’d have a hard time proving them wrong.

The monotony of work comforts me, although it takes forever to fold the huge mounds of linens. I’d prefer to hide in a closet somewhere, alone in the dark, away from the eyes of the guards who pass in the hallways. Most of the nurses avoid me because of the attention the guards pay me. I don’t blame them. No one wants to make herself anymore of a target than needed, and I seem to be a magnet for it.

The hours pass quickly, and at seven, Cole and Zeus show up right on time. Cole looks no less enraged than when he left. His fingers jab the buttons in the elevator and he says nothing as we jostle downward. Then, once outside, he walks briskly ahead, never acknowledging me or speaking.

Did I do something wrong? I’m too afraid to ask because of his outburst at the table this morning. Maybe the execution made him afraid to talk to me.

Once inside my quarters, he spins around and shoves me against the wall. I bite my lips in fear, shaking in his grip.

“Don’t mistake my niceness for weakness, okay?” he asks.

I nod.

“Yesterday, I saved your life because it was my job. Nothing more.” He releases me and I’m not sure what hurts more, my arms or my feelings.

“Okay,” I say, unconvinced and trembling.

Yet, this morning, he seemed to think my life was worth something.

He turns, drags Zeus with him, and slams his door.

I crumble to my mattress, unable to shake my fear and the memories.



The salacious look on the head guard’s face as I passed. The icy blue eyes of the guard in the garage, how his fingers in my hair made me shiver under his control. The way my stepfather looked at me with greediness.



I wake up sweating and panic, bolting upright in the dark.

When I calm down, I hear someone knocking on a door nearby.

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