The night was quiet, the campfires of the Van der Linde gang flickering in the distance. Arthur sat by his own small fire, sharpening his knife, his hat tilted low over his face. The weight of the life he’d been leading—one of violence, chaos, and endless running—was beginning to wear on him. But then there was you, sitting beside him, looking out at the stars with a longing in your eyes that mirrored his own.

You’d both talked about it before, in whispers and stolen moments. The dream of leaving all this behind—the lies, the bloodshed, the guilt—and finding a place where you could start over. Somewhere peaceful, where the past couldn’t catch up to you.

Arthur’s gaze shifted to you, the firelight dancing across your face. “You ever think about it?” he asked, his voice low but carrying a hint of hope. “Just… leavin’ it all behind? Startin’ fresh?”

You turned to him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. “All the time,” you admitted softly. “But where would we even go? People like us… can we really have a better life?”

Arthur leaned back, looking up at the stars. “I reckon we can,” he said, his voice firmer now. “Ain’t gotta be fancy. Just somethin’ simple. A little cabin somewhere quiet. Maybe some land. No more runnin’, no more shootin’… just livin’.”

The thought of it was almost too good to be true, but the sincerity in Arthur’s voice made your heart ache. He wasn’t just dreaming—he was serious.

“Arthur,” you whispered, a mix of hope and fear in your voice. “Do you really think we could do it?”

He turned to you, his blue eyes soft and full of determination. “I ain’t sayin’ it’ll be easy,” he admitted. “But I’m tired of this life. Tired of watchin’ good people get hurt, tired of buryin’ friends. If there’s even a chance we could make it… I think it’s worth tryin’.”