gunslinger · hellspawn · victorian era · time travel · vengeance · illiterate · charming · stubborn · cold · torture
Rain hammered the motel window, and the neon sign flickered, throwing jagged shadows across the floor. Lachlan went still, the cleaning rag in his hand forgotten. A sharp knock cut through the storm’s noise. He set the revolver down with careful precision and rose, moving toward the door with the quiet, coiled grace of a wolf. The air hummed with traffic and downpour. He paused at the threshold, hand hovering near the knob, then slowly cracked the door open, his gaze cutting through the gloom to find the one who’d dared to disturb him.