He raised the canister of lighter fluid.

Gabriel reached for his weapon, but Richard was fast for a man his age.

He lunged toward the desk, throwing the lighter fluid across the papers and books scattered on the surface.

“Stop!” I screamed.

Richard flicked the lighter again, ready to drop the flame onto the desk.

The smell of lighter fluid filled the small study, sharp and chemical.

“This ends tonight,” Richard muttered.

He lowered the flame toward the soaked wood.

Suddenly, the window behind us shattered.

Two black-clad figures swung through the glass, glass raining down on the floorboards.

One of Gabriel’s security officers tackled Richard to the ground before the flame could touch the desk.

The brass lighter flew from Richard’s hand, landing on the rug.

Gabriel immediately stomped on the small flame, extinguishing it before it could catch.

Richard struggled on the floor, his wet coat twisting around him.

“Let me go!” he roared, his voice cracking with rage.

The security officer pinned Richard’s arms behind his back, securing him with plastic zip-ties.

Another officer entered from the doorway, a rifle raised.