Ashes on your Name

By Tahreer Khayal

The door closed behind her with the heavy sound of finality.

A single chair waited in the center of the dim room, its metal legs rooted to the floor.

The air carried the scent of steel, dust, and something faintly burnt — as if the walls themselves had witnessed things they would never speak of.

Liora did not sit.

Her feet were bare, the concrete cold beneath her skin, but her back stayed straight.

The ropes had left red marks on her wrists, yet she held them loosely at her sides, as if they didn’t matter.

The door opened again.

Measured footsteps entered — unhurried, unflinching.

Gabriel Amedeo Salvatore stepped into the light.

Black suit, unbuttoned collar, the easy posture of a man who had never needed to rush to kill. His eyes locked on her, and for a moment, the air felt thinner.

When he spoke, his voice was soft — but it carried the weight of a gun pressed to the back of the skull.

“Where is your father, Whitmore?”

He took another step forward, his gaze unblinking.

“Tell me… and I will spare your life.”

Her lips curved, not in a smile but in defiance. “The man you’re hunting runs faster than you can follow. Looks like all you caught was his shadow.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Your father murdered my brother. And you’re the daughter of a coward and a killer. That means your blood is already stained.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Better to be born with stained blood than to drown in it by choice.”

Gabriel’s voice deepened, each word deliberate. “You think words will shield you? I can end you here, Whitmore — and no one will even know where your body fell.”

She tilted her head, meeting his threat with ice. “Then do it. Or is killing unarmed women beneath the great Gabriel Salvatore?”

A cold laugh left his lips, void of humor. “If you want me to prove you wrong, keep talking.”

Her chin lifted. “Men like you only prove one thing — fear makes you loud.”

He stepped closer until his shadow swallowed hers. “Your father… that bastard ran and left a mouse like you behind.”

Her voice was sharp enough to cut. “And you’re the snake that hisses threats because the mouse won’t kneel.”

For a heartbeat, they stared at each other, heat and hatred tangled tight.

“I didn’t expect such courage from a coward’s daughter,” he said at last.

“I didn’t expect such cowardice from a man who calls himself powerful,” she returned without missing a beat.

Gabriel’s fist slammed the wall beside her head, dust raining down.

“You will talk.”

“I will not.”

“You will break.”