Page 215 of Override

Every trace of warmth I'd seen on the drive over disappears behind the unreadable expression I'd first met weeks ago through anonymous text messages and impossible calm.

The operator is back.

He takes one step forward.

"I—"

"Matthew Banks." Matt's voice cuts across the room before Keaton can finish the sentence.

Keaton doesn't so much as glance at him.

Matt steps forward anyway, extending a hand that my father ignores. "My name is Matthew Banks." He gestures toward the people standing behind him. "This is my team. Grayline."

No one speaks. Matt lowers his hand without the slightest sign of embarrassment.

"Several weeks ago, Callum approached Keaton and asked him to quietly look into Ronan Gallagher. Something didn't sit right. He wanted another set of eyes before making accusations he couldn't prove."

"I know all of that." My father's voice is calm, but it carries the kind of authority that silences an entire room.

Matt stops talking.

For a long moment, my father doesn't say anything else. He just...looks at me. Not at Keaton. Not at Matt. At me.

His eyes move slowly over my face, lingering there as though he's trying to reassure himself I'm really standing in front of him. Then they drift lower.

His expression changes. It's subtle. A tightening around his eyes. A hardening of his jaw. His gaze locks on my neck.

My stomach drops. I'd forgotten. No...Not forgotten. I'd stopped thinking about them because they weren't hurting anymore.

Until now.

Without meaning to, my hand flies to my throat, my fingertips brushing the tender skin beneath my jaw. The memory crashes into me so fast it steals the air from my lungs.

Ronan's hand. His fingers squeezing tighter. The frantic struggle to breathe. The way the room had started to blur around the edges while I'd wondered if this was finally how I was going to die.

I jerk my hand away as though touching my own skin burns.

"When did that happen?" My father's voice is quieter now. Dangerously quiet.

I don't answer. I can't. The words are trapped somewhere behind the memory still clawing its way through my chest.

Matt shifts beside Keaton. "It isn't—"

My father cuts him off without taking his eyes off me. "Tell me why my daughter is standing in the middle of my house..." His voice remains controlled, but I can hear something breaking beneath it. "...with people I don't know..." His gaze drops to my throat again. "...and bruises on her neck."

The room feels impossibly small. I can feel everyone looking at me. Waiting. Judging. Wondering. My fingers curl into the sleeves of my sweatshirt, searching for something to hold onto.

Then Keaton moves. Not in front of me. Not enough to shield me. Just...Closer. "I'll explain."

Chapter 46

Keaton (Skee)

"I'll explain." The room goes quiet. Not the uncomfortable kind. The expectant kind.

Every pair of eyes settles on me, waiting for an explanation that somehow untangles months of lies, manipulation, and half-truths into something that makes sense.

It won't. The truth rarely does. I glance toward Maeve first.