Chapter 12 Justice Or Trap

• The guard’s hand instinctively reached for his weapon, but the stranger lifted his hands in surrender.
• “I’m not here to fight,” he said. “I’m here to turn myself in.”
• The stranger stood, looking like he had been through hell and barely made it back. His clothes were ragged, torn at the seams, as if he had been on the run for weeks. His face was unshaven, the dark stubble on his jaw making him look even more hardened and dangerous. A scar ran across his left eyebrow, a brutal souvenir from whatever past life he had lived. His knuckles were bruised, his lips slightly chapped, and his tiring, dull yellow eyes were the most unsettling part.