Free Sinners 01 - Branded by Abi Ketner, Missy Kalicicki

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