The sun hung low over the crimson desert, painting the cliffs in shades of gold and copper. Word traveled fast through outlaw camps and wealthy estates alike.

Someone had finally accepted the contract.

That someone was Rouge.

To most, she looked like a wandering cowgirl—a broad-brimmed hat casting a shadow over sharp eyes, dusty boots resting in worn stirrups, and an easy smile that made strangers lower their guard. But behind the charm was one of the most feared professional assassins on the frontier. She didn’t waste bullets. She didn’t leave witnesses. And she always finished the job.