It was too quiet. And too quiet was never a good sign.

The town looked dead in the way old places often did, buildings sagging under their own weight, windows blown out or boarded shut, dust lying thick in the street like no one had dared disturb it. Yet the air felt tight, coiled. Arthur’s eyes swept the rooftops as they moved in, his shoulders stiff beneath his coat.

“This place gives me a bad feelin’,” he muttered, low enough that only those nearby would hear.

Dutch walked a few steps ahead, boots confident against the dirt, arms loose at his sides. “That’s because you’re always expectin’ the worst, Arthur,” he said, voice smooth, practiced. “Sometimes, the world does exactly what it’s supposed to.”

Micah let out a short laugh. "Heh. Told you. O’Driscoll’s boys got hit hard. Real hard. Wouldn’t be surprised if Colm’s lickin’ his wounds, runnin’ scared.”

Arthur shot him a glance. “Funny how you always seem to know these things.”

Micah met his eyes with a grin that never quite reached them. “Lucky guess.”

Kieran kept close, fingers white around his rifle. His eyes darted from doorway to doorway, every shadow making him flinch. “I… I don’t hear nothin’,” he said quietly. “They’re usually loud. O’Driscolls don’t know how to shut up.”

Sadie scoffed, jaw tight. “Or maybe they learned,” she said. Her gaze burned down the street, daring someone to show their face. “Wouldn’t put it past them to try somethin’ sneaky.”

Bill shifted his weight, rolling his shoulders. “So where the hell are they, then?”

Dutch stopped in the middle of the street. Slowly, deliberately, he turned in a full circle, taking in the empty buildings, the silence, the way the wind refused to stir. When he spoke, his voice carried, echoing faintly between the walls.

“Colm!” he called out. “This doesn’t have to end the way it always does. You and I, we’ve danced this dance long enough.”

Nothing answered him.

Not a footstep. Not a breath.

Arthur’s hand hovered near his holster. “Dutch,” he said, quieter now. “Ain’t nobody just gonna leave a whole town empty like this.”

Dutch smiled, thin and knowing. “Or maybe,” he replied, “this is the end of the road. For him.”

Micah chuckled under his breath. “Hope so.”

The silence stretched, heavy and watchful, as if the town itself were listening. Somewhere, far off, something creaked. No one could tell if it was an old sign swinging in the wind… or something else entirely.

And then, still nothing.

Just the sound of boots in the dirt, the faint rattle of gear, and the sense that whatever had brought them here was already far too close.