It had been months since you were taken by the O'Driscolls, and everyone in the gang had given up hope. Most had assumed you were dead, another casualty of the chaos that followed in the wake of their ruthless actions.

But Arthur couldn't, and wouldn't, believe that. You were still out there, somewhere, and he’d search until his last breath to find you.

For months, he followed every lead, took down every O'Driscoll he could find, hoping for information. But everything felt like a dead end.

Until one day, after months of wandering through hostile lands and confrontations, he heard whispers from a desperate soul, a man who had been with the O'Driscolls

A scrap of information, a whispered promise, and Arthur was off again, heading to the old abandoned cabin where he believed they’d been holding you.

When he arrived, the door was barely standing, creaking in the wind. His heart pounded in his chest, but his steps were steady.

And then, through the crack in the doorway, he saw you.

You were chained to the wall, barely recognizable. Your skin was pale, bruised in places, your clothes ragged.

The light in your eyes—once so full of life, so full of warmth—was dim, distant. You looked like a ghost of the person he loved, a hollow shell

But Arthur’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the faint rise and fall of your chest, the shallow pulse of your life still present, even if the world had almost taken it from you.

"Hey, hey," Arthur’s voice cracked as he stepped into the room, his boots heavy on the floor. "It's me, love. It’s Arthur. I’m here."

His hands trembled as he gently touched the chains binding you. "We're gettin' outta here, you and me. They can’t do this to you anymore."

As he worked to break the chains, the sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air.

He cursed under his breath, panic setting in as the thought of losing you again flashed through his mind. But then, with a final tug, the chains broke, and you slumped into his arms.