"What do I want?" The masked man chuckled in amusement, "You should be asking yourself what you're willing to pay to save them."
Liam's brows pulled tight.
"They are my sisters," Liam's fists clenched, his knuckles whitening. "I don't need to think. I'll pay any price, no matter the cost. "
"Yes—yes." Charlotte nodded quickly, almost stumbling over her words. "We'll give you anything, anything you want. Just let my daughters go!"
The man watched her. His gaze was quiet and assessing —as if weighing how far he could push her.
A gust of salty wind swept through the open structure, rattling loose metal rods. The faint creak of the half-built building echoed around them.
Then, the sound of footsteps, fast and urgent, echoed. The man tilted his head slightly, a flicker of anticipation crossed his eyes.
Right on cue, a man in a tailored suit stepped in.
"Xavier?" Liam frowned. "How did you get here?"
Xavier didn't answer.
His breathing was uneven. His expression —tight, controlled, but unmistakably tense.
His gaze went straight to Adelyn. Her expression remained the same as before. Calm and distant.
"I told him," Bryer explained.
"Good," the masked man said lightly. "The more, the merrier."
Xavier stepped forward.
"I brought the money." His voice was cold. Direct. "Let them go."
The bag hit the ground with a heavy thud, dust lifting around it.
The man glanced down.
Then sighed.
"Money?" he scoffed softly. "Young Master Colsen … I expected better."
His gaze lifted again —sharp, unimpressed.
"Is that all your fiancée is worth?"
Xavier's jaw tightened. His eyes flicked to Adelyn again —as though waiting for something.
Fear.
Relief.
Anything.
But she gave him nothing.
No reaction. No shift. No acknowledgement at all. It was as if his presence meant nothing to her.
"Adelyn is my fiancée," he said, his voice low. "I would give up everything for her."
The words hung in the air —powerful, absolute, yet meaningless.
Adelyn's lips curved in a mocking smile.
Clara saw it. Her fingers curled tightly against the rope, jealousy flashing through her tear-filled eyes.
"Sister …" she murmured, her voice fragile. "You're always so lucky. Everyone loves you so much. I wish I had someone like Xavier…"
Her voice softened.
"But —"
Adelyn turned to look at her coldly.
"You don't have to wish anymore," she said flatly. "If you want him, take him."
Clara was taken aback. "You —"
The masked man was amused, "You've made this far more interesting."
He turned back to the others, "Now I'm curious… how far will y'all actually go?"
Liam, Bryer, and Xavier's brows furrowed as they exchanged tensed glances.
"What do you mean?" Liam asked.
"Nothing new," the man replied. "Just what I intended from the very beginning."
"I've had enough of this," Bryer stepped forward, impatient as ever.
But as soon as he saw the gun the masked man pulled out, he froze.
"Careful ."
Charlotte gasped.
Before anyone could react, the man pointed towards one of the chairs.
Everyone's eyes followed only to notice again metal bands locked tight around the girls' wrists.
"They're pressure-triggered," the man said lightly.
The wind howled faintly through the walls.
"Too much movement … too much panic …"
His finger tapped the gun.
"And boom! They'll explode before your very eyes."
Liam's breath caught.
Bryer stepped back instinctively, his face pale.
Xavier's fists clenched, useless.
The man was satisfied with their reactions. Meeting each of their gazes, he said, "Try being the heroes … and you'll become their executioners."
Silence fell —heavy and suffocating.
"What do you want?" Liam asked, his voice tight again.
The man's gaze drifted back to the sisters.
"To understand something," he said slowly. "What it means … to be the cherished one."
His eyes lingered between Clara and Adelyn.
"And what it truly means … to give up everything for someone."
A pause.
"And if forced to compete … who will win?"
Confusion flickered across the brothers' faces. Charlotte's heart pounded violently in her chest, each beat louder than the crashing waves outside.
"Please …" she said hoarsely. "Stop speaking in riddles. Just tell us what you want."
The man looked at her for a moment.
Then —
He nodded.
"Fine." His voice turned almost … accommodating.
"No more games. No more hidden meanings," a smile formed on his face once more, "All I want… is for you to choose."
"Choose?" Charlotte whispered, confused.
"Yes, choose," He repeated nonchalantly.
His gaze shifted over to the two chairs.
To her two daughters.
"Only one gets to leave here…alive."