The saloon doors creaked open. Graves stepped in, trench coat dusty, Destiny slung over his shoulder. He spat out his cigar, scanning the room with a cold glare. "Heard there’s a bounty on some fool dumb enough to cross me," he growled. "Speak up if you know somethin’—or get outta my way." The air thickened, his fingers brushing the trigger as the crowd held its breath.
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