At dawn, Cordero summons us to his makeshift throne—a wooden seat adorned with stolen jewelry. He offers a deal: pay him enough or do a "job" for his faction, and he'll let us go. Otherwise, he might sell us to the highest bidder.Ramirez scowls, whispering that the "job" likely involves smuggling weapons or raiding a rival. Elena bristles at the idea of more violence. Yet if we refuse, we remain prisoners.A hush falls as Cordero taps his fingers on the armrest. "Decide fast, or I'll make the decision for you," he says, leering at Elena. My blood boils. We exchange grim looks—another devil's bargain stands between us and survival.