WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. XXIX

While on the ride back to camp, you had been lost in thought. Your aunt was right, whatever you were about to get into, it wasn't a mundane situation anymore. It was dangerous in every sense of the word, and while you didn't have any second thoughts about going through with it, you did have second thoughts about leaving her behind. Weren't you just the biggest hypocrite of them all?

When you arrived back in Clemens point, Dutch bombarded you with questions, and Mary-Beth was kind enough to answer a big percentage of them without your assistance. The leader had then promptly decided it be better if the rescue would take place during the hanging. With a bit of a distraction, that would be the gang's best shot at getting everyone out alive with little to (hopefully) no injuries.

After the not so short discussion with Dutch, you sought out Lobo, and found him lazily laying in the shadow of a tree with another dog, a Catahoula Cur, if you were correct.

When he heard you approach, he jumped to his feet and ran up to greet you with a delighted bark. As you crouched down to pet him, you realized you owed Cathy a proper farewell. Just in case things would go terribly wrong.

So you told Dutch about your intentions, that you wouldn't be missing for more than that night and a day, and that you hoped to leave Lobo there during that time so that the ride home and back could happen as quickly as possible.

He agreed, albeit reluctantly and with a warning that, to quote him, 'this better be no trick'.

You hoped the most sincere promise you could muster was enough to convince him.

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Heaving was an understatement for both you and the Arabian once you had arrived at the small spot near Emerald ranch. Dawn had already neared its end, though just a little while ago. The sky was still saturated with dark colors, as if the sun, too, had said its last goodbye before disappearing.

You failed to see any lights turned on in the house. Was Cathy already asleep?

With a dumbfounded huff, you dismounted, petting the Arabian's neck before hitching it next to the humble house. You tiredly walked up to the front door, brushing out the folds and dirt from your clothes, doing a few minor adjustments to your hair, then brought your knuckles against the wooden surface to knock on it.

It creaked open.

It was so dark that you couldn't even hope to make out where exactly the furniture was. In your own house.

You felt as if you'd swallowed your heart and it was now trying to wrestle its way up your throat.

"Aunt Cathy?" You croaked, mouth dry and cottony as you stepped inside. Where was she? Why the hell was everything so dark?

You yelped out in surprise when you tripped over something and landed face-first on the floor. The wooden planks below you had soaked up something slippery, which was now on your forearms and palms.

What...the actual hell was going on? Was this some kind of sick prank? Or perhaps some dumb dream? Every possibility flashed through your head as you laid there on the floor for a few seconds. Who was messing with you?

You couldn't stifle a scream when you looked up and were met with the lifeless eyes staring back into your soul. Your aunt's lifeless eyes.

They had beheaded her. Her skull was what you had tripped over, and her blood was what you were smeared in.

Who was they? Who the hell was they?! Who had done—