Page 235 of Override

I tell myself I'm only verifying the system is still functioning. I maximize the mission map again.

Three seconds later...the apartment cameras are back on my screen.

I don't consciously switch them. My hand simply does it.

The elevator doors open. A man carrying dry cleaning steps out before disappearing toward the opposite end of the hallway. Apartment 2D.

No concern.

I minimize the feed. The target's financial records replace it. Thirty-two seconds later...I check the apartment again.

The realization settles quietly somewhere in the back of my mind. I'm distracted. Not enough to jeopardize the mission.

But enough that every few moments, without permission, part of my attention travels sixty-three miles east. Back to a second-floor apartment. Back to one woman. Back home.

Chapter 53

Maeve

The apartment feels different the second the front door closes behind Keaton. Not unsafe.

Just... quieter.

I stand in the middle of the living room for a long moment, listening. The refrigerator hums softly from the kitchen. Somewhere outside, an elevator dings before the doors slide shut again.

The security monitor mounted beside the television continues cycling through the four camera feeds Keaton showed me two nights ago. The memory stays with me as I wander into the kitchen.

His coffee mug is still sitting beside the sink. I'd offered to wash it before he left.

He'd blinked at me like I'd suggested dismantling the internet. "I'll do it when I get home."

When I get home. Not if. When. The tiny certainty hidden inside those words settles warmly in my chest.

I rinse the mug anyway.

He'll probably notice. The thought makes me smile even more.

Now...I simply wander. I straighten the blanket we'd left on the couch this morning. Open the refrigerator. Close it again.

Stand in front of the bookshelf and laugh quietly when I remember every novel is arranged alphabetically.

Eventually my feet carry me toward the hallway. Toward the room I haven't walked into since yesterday morning.

The master bedroom. I pause in the doorway. Nothing has changed. The bed is perfectly made. The dresser is empty except for the lamp. The walls are bare. No photographs. No artwork. No evidence that anyone has slept here in months.

It doesn't feel sad. It feels...abandoned. My chest tightens as his words come back to me.

The room stopped functioning.

At the time I'd understood what he meant. Standing here...I think I finally understand how much it cost him. He hadn't kept the room because he couldn't let Cindy go. He'd left it exactly as it was because every time he looked at it, his brain replayed the same memories.

So he adapted. Found another room. Kept living. But never came back.

I walk slowly to the center of the room and turn in a slow circle. "This just won't do."

The words leave my mouth before I realize I've spoken them aloud. I pull my phone from my pocket.

Rachel answers before the second ring. "Please tell me you're calling because Keaton finally admitted he's completely obsessed with you."