He swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the open door behind him.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said.

“You are an accomplice to theft and fraud,” I said. “Perhaps worse, depending on what happened to my father.”

“I had nothing to do with William Carter’s death,” Julian said quickly.

His defense was too fast, too rehearsed.

“Then who did?” I demanded.

Julian took a slow step backward, his hand tightening on the lighter fluid.

“This palace is built on secrets, Commander,” he said. “Some of them are meant to burn.”

He suddenly lunged toward the table, raising the bottle.

I moved instantly, stepping inside his reach and grabbing his right wrist.

The training took over, my grip locking around his bones.

He cried out, dropping the bottle of lighter fluid onto the concrete floor.

It landed with a heavy plastic thud, the liquid sloshing inside but the cap remaining sealed.

Julian twisted his arm, trying to break my hold.

He was stronger than he looked, fueled by panic.

He threw his shoulder into my chest, forcing me back against the table.