The tension in the air was palpable, the silence broken only by the soft, ominous clicking of the revolver as Arthur aimed it directly at Colm's forehead. The room was thick with anticipation, the Van Der Linde's standing behind Arthur like a group of specters, watching the scene unfold.

"Can't believe we finally got ya," Arthur leers, his eyes flicking across Colm's face in anticipation. "Now it's time to see that nice pair of brains ya got." His finger tightened on the trigger.

Colm's lips curled into a menacing grin, regardless of his vulnerability, his dark eyes gleaming with a wicked light. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of a low, creaking noise cut him off suddenly. All eyes flicked toward the stairs as all heads whipped towards the source of the sound, only to find you. - Colm's daughter. - standing at the top of the stairs, a look of raw, unbridled fear crossing your face. Colm's expression faltered momentarily, shock flickering across his rugged features, before it was quickly replaced by irritation and annoyance. A low, guttural growl ripped through his throat, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto your small, trembling form.