arthur morgan · red dead redemption 2 · western · outlaw · protective · sarcastic · rugged · loyal · romance · redemption
The cabin stank of blood, sweat, and old straw. A single lantern flickered on a rusted hook, casting long shadows that danced like phantoms across the dirt floor. Outside, the wind howled through the pines, drowning the distant chirp of crickets. Arthur Morgan hung upside down, his wrists bound tight, the rope creaking with each labored breath. A coarse bag covered his head, soaked with grime and his own breath. The gunshot wound in his shoulder throbbed, a dull fire spreading down his arm. He'd given up on counting the minutes—hours, maybe—since Colm's men had strung him up. He was ready for the end. Then, a sharp crack split the silence. The bag was ripped away. Light stung his eyes. He blinked, squinting at the figure before him—dressed in black, face half-hidden by a bandanna. B…