Page 157 of Override

When his eyes meet mine again, the faint softness is gone. In its place is cold focus.

One word leaves his mouth.

“Run.”

Chapter 32

Keaton (Skee)

"Run."

For one terrifying heartbeat, she doesn't move.

The world around us disappears until there's nothing left except the woman standing in front of me and the choice hanging between us. I can hear my own breathing. The steady hum of the garage lights. Somewhere in the distance, gravel crunches beneath tires, a reminder that we're standing in the middle of an estate protected by men who would happily put a bullet through me if they found us.

I wait.

Every instinct I've spent years developing tells me to grab her hand and drag her through the tree line before Ronan wakes up. I know exactly how to move an unwilling person through hostile territory. I know how to throw someone over my shoulder and disappear into the woods before the first radio call ever goes out.

But I won't.

I spent weeks reminding her that she still had choices. That Ronan hadn't taken every piece of herself, no matter how hard he'd tried. I refuse to become another man who decides for her.

Then her fingers tighten around mine. Not because I pulled. Because she chose.

Relief slams into my chest so hard it almost steals the breath from my lungs.

I don't give either of us time to think. We start running.

The open garage is behind us as we sprint toward the tree line, my attention flicking constantly between the shadows ahead and the house at my back. Every step feels impossibly loud against the ground, even though I know the sound exists only inside my own head. Adrenaline has a way of turning ordinary things into warnings, convincing you every breath, every footfall, every heartbeat can be heard from a mile away.

The trees are less than seventy yards away. I've crossed greater distances under enemy fire. Tonight, it feels endless.

Maeve keeps pace beside me far better than she should. The emerald dress catches around her legs with nearly every stride, forcing her to gather the fabric with her free hand while trying not to lose the heel she'd somehow managed to keep on through all of this.

She stumbles once.

My grip tightens before I even realize she's slipping.

"I've got you," I say, the words barely more than a breath.

She doesn't answer. She simply nods and keeps running. The determination in that single movement settles somewhere deep beneath my ribs.

Three days ago she believed she was saying goodbye to me. Now she's trusting me enough to run blindly into the woods.

The thought is almost too much to carry.

We reach the first line of pines, and I pull her off the narrow service road without breaking stride. The obvious route is exactly where Declan will send people once they discover Ronan. I need thicker cover, fewer sight lines, terrain that forces anyone following us to slow down.

Branches scrape across my arms as we push deeper into the trees. Pine needles cushion our footsteps, swallowing the sound beneath layers of damp earth and fallen leaves. The fading sunlight disappears almost immediately beneath the canopy, the darkness wrapping around us like another layer of protection.

Only then do I allow myself one quick glance over my shoulder. The garage is still open.

No movement. No guards. No alarms. Nothing.

That should make me feel better. Instead, it knots my stomach even tighter. Because silence rarely stays silent for long.

I squeeze Maeve's hand once before looking ahead again. "We're almost there."