Page 214 of Override

Maeve

Walking through the front door feels like stepping into another life.

Nothing has changed.

The antique table still sits beneath the staircase, a crystal bowl filled with fresh flowers resting in the center just like it always has. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticks steadily in the background. The scent of my mother's lavender polish lingers in the air, mixing with fresh coffee and something baking in the kitchen.

Home. Everything looks exactly as I remember it. I'm the only thing that's different.

My mother keeps an arm wrapped securely around my shoulders as she guides me into the foyer, her hand rubbing absentminded circles against my arm like she's reassuring herself I'm actually here. I let her.

I don't trust my legs enough to stand on my own. I wait for it. The disappointment. The anger. The look that says How could you embarrass this family? I've spent months imagining it. Preparing for it. Convincing myself I deserved it.

Instead...I find my father looking at me with something I've never expected to see.

Concern. Real, unmistakable concern.

He crosses the foyer in three long strides and pulls me into his arms before I have time to react.

"Jesus Christ, Maeve." His voice is rough against my hair. "Are you okay?"

The question catches somewhere behind my ribs. Not Where have you been? Not What happened? Not What were you thinking? Just… Are you okay?

I nod against his chest because I don't trust my voice.

His arms tighten for just a second before he steps back, keeping both hands on my shoulders as his eyes search my face.

"I've been worried sick." He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "When Ronan called and said you were missing..." He runs a hand over his jaw. "I had every man I trust looking for you before I even hung up the phone."

My breath catches. Missing. That's what he'd told them.

"I called him this morning," my father continues, completely unaware of the way my world is beginning to tilt beneath me. "Told him you'd been found and that you'd be here." His brow furrows as he glances toward the front windows. "He should've been here by now."

Every ounce of warmth drains from my body. He called Ronan. He told him where I am. Without thinking, I take a step backward. Away from my father. Away from the center of the room. My shoulder brushes against someone solid.

Keaton.

I hadn't even realized he'd moved. His presence settles the panic clawing at my chest before it has the chance to consume me completely.

My father notices. Of course he notices. His gaze drops briefly to the space between us before lifting to Keaton's face.

The room falls silent.

When my father speaks again, every trace of relief has disappeared beneath the calm authority I've watched grown men fear my entire life.

"Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on."

No one answers. His eyes remain fixed on Keaton.

"I didn't have you shot the second you drove onto my property because Callum assured me I needed to hear the whole story." He gestures once toward Callum without looking away. "And lucky for you, I respect his father enough to honor that request."

The silence somehow grows heavier. My father's gaze sweeps across the room before settling back on Keaton.

"So..." His voice is quiet. Controlled. "...someone better start talking."

Keaton goes perfectly still beside me.

His shoulders straighten.