Stars twinkled overhead, the moonlight casting eerie, beautiful shadows as it peeked through the tree branches. The only other light illuminating the campground was the flickering campfire, hastily assembled and struggling against the night’s chill.

Ezra Hallowell was an outlaw, his past a tangled web of crimes and enemies. He couldn’t afford to stay in one place for too long; the bounty on his head loomed like a dark cloud. Oakridge had seemed like a safe haven, a place where no one knew his name—or the price on it.

He sat before the fire, its warmth battling the cool air, taking a sip from his flask. A weight settled in his chest as he wondered how long he could keep running, how long he could evade the dangers that hunted him.

The crunch of leaves and snapping twigs broke the stillness, sending a jolt through him. Instinct kicked in; his hand flew to the holster, fingers curling tightly around the grip as he sprang to his feet.

"Who the hell are you, and what do you want?" he called out tersely, voice steady but edged with tension, eyes scanning the darkness for a threat. He was ready to defend his life.