Aaliyah's Redemption: Bound by Fate ***DISCONTINUED, READ DESCRIPTION***

Chapter XI

The sun hung low in the sky as Arthur watched Aaliyah walk away, her figure growing smaller with each step. His gut twisted— he knew it wasn't safe for her to walk back alone, not in her condition, not with those bruises. He let out a frustrated sigh and mounted Maverick, urging the horse into a slow trot after her.

"Aaliyah!" he called out, his voice carrying through the quieting town. She didn't look back, her head down, shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world rested on them.

"I'm walkin' back to camp, like you said," she shot back, her tone sharp and breathless, one arm wrapped tightly around her stomach where the bruises ached with every step.

Arthur's brow furrowed with concern as he slowed Maverick to a walk beside her. "Aaliyah, I didn't mean it like that," he said softly, his voice more gentle now.

"Then how did you mean it?" Her voice trembled, fighting to hold back tears. She didn't stop, didn't look at him, just kept walking.

Arthur scratched the back of his neck, at a loss for words. "The gang's my family. I just couldn't risk bringing someone around who might've been a danger to them." His words felt hollow in his own mouth, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her. "Can you just stop for a second? Please."

Aaliyah halted abruptly and turned to face him, her eyes blazing with frustration. "What do you want, Arthur?" she hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry I didn't spill my whole goddamn past you the night I met you." Her voice wavered, exhaustion setting in as she rubbed her temples, then resumed walking.

Arthur rode in silence, Maverick's steady gait the only sound between them. He wanted to say more, to explain, but nothing seemed right. He wasn't used to this—this vulnerability. Even with Mary, it had never been like this.

Ahead, Aaliyah slowed as she neared the heart of Valentine, her boots sinking into the mud, her thoughts a storm of frustration and exhaustion. The lively chatter of the townsfolk around her faded into background noise until a sharp whistle cut through the din.

Aaliyah glanced to her side, spotting a group of men outside Keane's Saloon, drinks in hand and eyes locked on her. She ignored them, quickening her pace, but the sound of footsteps following made her heart race.

"Get away from her." Arthur's voice boomed from behind, cold and menacing. The man closest to Aaliyah sneered, not backing down. "What's it to you? You payin' for her or somethin'?"

Aaliyah turned to face the man, disgust curling her lip. "There ain't enough money in the world that'd make me sleep with you," she spat.

The man's face twisted into a lecherous grin. "Who said anything about payin'?"

Before he could say another word, Aaliyah's hand flew, her palm striking his cheek with a satisfying crack. He stumbled back, clutching his face, rage flashing in his eyes as he raised a fist to hit her.

But Arthur was quicker. His hand shot out, gripping the man's arm mid-swing. "I told you to get away from her," Arthur growled, his voice low and dangerous. With one swift motion, Arthur's fist connected with the man's nose, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The man clutched his bleeding nose, glaring up at Arthur, but the fight had drained from him. Arthur glanced at the rest of the men, his gaze hard. "If I catch any of you disrespectin' a lady again, it'll be the last time you look at one." His words dripped with threat, his stance unwavering.

The group of men quickly dispersed, leaving Aaliyah standing wide-eyed, still processing what had just happened. Arthur turned to her, his voice softer now. "You alright?"

Aaliyah stared at him for a moment, then shook her head, a small laugh escaping her. "I'm supposed to be mad at you." Her voice was timid, though a hint of gratitude laced her words. "But... thank you."

Arthur's lips quivered into a small smile, but his eyes remained serious. "Will you let me take you back to camp now?" he asked, glancing at the darkening sky as a flash in lightning illuminated the horizon. The smell of rain lingered in the air, heavy and foreboding.

Aaliyah glanced up at the rolling storm clouds and sighed. "Looks like I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Arthur chuckled softly, "No, no you don't." He reached down, his hands gentle as he helped her onto Maverick's back. As she settled in, he rested his hand on her knee, his voice low. "You sure you're okay?"

Aaliyah met his gaze, her breath catching for a moment as she looked into his eyes. There was something in them—warmth, concern, maybe even regret. She nodded, unable to break the connection between them.

The sudden downpour pulled them out of the moment, cold raindrops soaking through their clothes in seconds. Aaliyah laughed softly, the sound surprising even her as the tension seemed to wash away with the rain.

Arthur mounted Maverick and urged the horse into a canter. Aaliyah wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against his back. His scent—a mix of leather, sweat, and something uniquely Arthur—was comforting. Despite everything, she felt safe.

***

By the time they reached camp, the rain had soaked them through. Arthur slowed Maverick to a stop at the hitching post, but before he could dismount, Aaliyah was already sliding off the horse. She turned to face him, her arms crossed.

"Just because you stopped those men doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you," she said, her voice stern despite the soft smile tugging at her lips.

Arthur smirked, shaking his head. "I know, I know."

"I mean it, Arthur Morgan," she added, her tone more playful now, but with an edge of seriousness.

Arthur's eyes flicked up to meet hers, a mix of guilt and amusement crossing his face. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, tipping his hat in mock submission.

Aaliyah raised her eyebrow before walking off toward Tilly, leaving Arthur standing by Maverick, watching her retreat once more. He knew things weren't fixed, not by a long shot, but at least they were headed in the right direction.

As Aaliyah joined Tilly, Hosea approached Arthur, a curious look on his face. "What did you do this time?" Hosea asked, his tone teasing.

Arthur groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Women are just... goddamn confusing."

Hosea chuckled. "That they are, son. That they are."

Arthur sighed, exhaustion weighing heavy on him. He made his way to his tent, stripping out of his wet clothes and slipping into something dry. The day had drained him more than any gunfight ever could, and before long, he collapsed onto his bed, sleep pulling him under almost instantly.