The white flames burned in the crater, reflecting in Samira's golden eyes. She didn't immediately turn to her father. She let the silence drag on for a few seconds, the sound of the fire's fury the only communication between them.
Dutch took a step forward, the heat distorting the air around his almost ethereal form. His eyes, twin suns, burned not just with power, but with something deeper—anger and a hint of... anticipation.
"Where's Stella, Samira?" he repeated, his voice reverberating like suppressed thunder.
Samira finally looked at him. There was no tremor in her face. No trace of hesitation.
"You'll know," she said, each word sharp as glass, "when you stand in your place... and stop meddling in my life."
Dutch narrowed his eyes. The fire around him pulsed, as if reacting to the affront. "I'm your father. I don't have to ask permission for anything."
