Page 35 of Override

The drunk jerks against my grip again, still screaming while beer spills across the booth.

“You touched my computer,” I explain calmly.

Like that justifies anything currently happening. To be fair—it absolutely does.

Another guy charges toward us from the bar.

Bullet stands. That’s it. That’s the horrifying part. No anger. No shouting. The man simply takes one look at Elias Mercer unfolding himself to full height with that cold sniper stare and immediately rethinks every life decision that led him here tonight.

Smartest person in the building honestly.

Wheels, meanwhile, is having the time of his life.

“Oh we’re fighting fighting?” he yells over the music while shoving someone backward into a pool table. “SAY LESS.”

“Raymond!” Rachel screams.

“I’m bonding!” He yells as he takes a guy’s head and slams it against his knee.

Matt finally grabs the back of my shirt before I can break the drunk’s wrist entirely. “Enough,” he snaps.

I blink once. Look down. Huh. Apparently somewhere during the chaos I stood up without consciously deciding to.

Interesting.

The drunk stumbles backward clutching his wrist while security barrels toward us from the opposite side of the bar.

“Out,” Matt orders.

Wheels points toward the bartender on the way out. “Your mozzarella sticks sucked!”

“They were great!” Sloane yells back.

Rain slams into us the second we hit the parking lot, all cold air and adrenaline and leftover violence while Rachel laughs hard enough she has to brace herself against Matt’s truck.

“You people are feral,” Sloane says between breaths.

“Correct,” Bullet replies.

Wheels points dramatically at me. “This psycho started it.”

“He touched my laptop.”

“You looked ready to commit murder.” Matt says as he wraps his arm around Rachel’s shoulder.

“He interrupted my work.”

Rachel wipes rainwater from beneath her eyes while still laughing. “Keaton, honey, normal people don’t assault strangers over computers.”

“That feels inaccurate.”

Matt stares at me for a long moment. “What exactly was on that screen?”

The question comes too casually. Dangerous.

I slide the laptop bag higher onto my shoulder carefully. “Security feeds.”

“Mhmm.”