“I didn’t need — your help.” The outlaw huffed, wheezing loudly as he attempted to regain his composure, resting against a sycamore tree — holding his injured leg.

You shot him a glance, placing your hands upon your hips in a disapproving manner. Javier Escuella, a Mexican outlaw with an attitude — and also, unfortunately, the man you were meant to protect.

You’d think more people would appreciate a guardian angel constantly fighting by their side, but Javier saw it differently.