Page 144 of Override

"You're emotional." His grip tightens. "I am trying to protect this marriage."

"You're hurting me."

His eyes don't even flick down to his hand. "You are letting someone fill your head with nonsense."

"I don't even know his name." The words escape before I can stop them.

Ronan goes completely still. "...What?"

My heart drops. No. No no no. "I..."

"What did you just say?"

Panic crashes over me. "I didn't mean—"

His fingers tighten again. Hard enough that I gasp. "I asked you a question."

"I don't know what I said."

"Liar."

Something inside me snaps. Not because he called me a liar. Because for the first time...I realize I'm done trying to convince him otherwise.

I shove him. Hard.

It's enough to make him take one surprised step backward.

For one heartbeat...Neither of us moves. He stares at me as though he doesn't recognize the woman standing in front of him.

Then...Everything changes.

He closes the distance in two strides. One hand catches my shoulders. The other wraps around my throat. Not crushing. Not choking. Holding. Keeping me exactly where he wants me.

"You will not," he says quietly, "ever put your hands on me again." My lungs struggle against the pressure. I claw at his wrist on instinct. "Do you understand?"

I can't answer.

"I asked..." His voice cracks for the first time. "...do you understand?"

I nod. Once. Immediately the pressure eases. He lets go so abruptly I stumble backward against the SUV, dragging in a desperate breath.

He stares at me. Horror flashes across his face. Not because of what he'd done. Because he'd lost control. For the first time...I think it scares him almost as much as it scares me.

Chapter 30

Keaton (Skee)

Three days have passed since every camera inside the Gallagher estate went dark, and every morning I convince myself that today will be the day I finally let it go.

Every morning, I drive back to Grayline before anyone can question where I spent the night. I shower, change clothes, sit through whatever briefing Matt has scheduled, and pretend I care about cases that have nothing to do with the woman trapped behind the stone walls of Ronan Gallagher’s estate.

I answer when someone speaks to me. I contribute when Matt asks for my opinion. I even manage to insult Wheels twice before lunch yesterday, which apparently convinced him I was fine.

I’m not.

The hours between sunrise and sunset are spent searching for another weakness in the system Ronan rebuilt. I test every access point I can find, circling the estate digitally while trying not to acknowledge that I’m doing the same thing physically once darkness begins to settle.

Every evening, I come back.