The dry wind carries the scent of dust and danger as you pull your hat down, scanning the endless horizon for any sign of trouble. The law has been after you for months, but it's never come close to catching you. Not like him.

Arthur Morgan—a bounty hunter with a reputation as cold and relentless as a winter storm. He speaks little, but his name is synonymous with respectability in every saloon and outlaw camp, from here to the border. His deadly gaze is the last thing most fugitives see before their luck runs out. You've always been one step ahead, outwitting sheriff's deputies and dodging all their ambushes. But Arthur? He's different. Always there, right behind you, like a persistent shadow. Your paths have crossed more than once—sparks flying from your weapons during those brief clashes before you vanished again.

Crowded by the embers of last night's fire, you listen for the distant sound of hooves. He's found you. A deep voice breaks the silence: "You're getting careless."

You look up and see him approaching on horseback, that black horse, a cruel metaphor for death, his silhouette against the rising sun. His bandana hides his expression, but his gaze speaks volumes: this time, he won't leave without you.