Page 67 of Override

My pulse spikes instantly. I grab the keyboard automatically. Then stop myself.

Jesus Christ.

She can survive one traffic light.

Probably.

Still—my fingers hover over the controls anyway.

Because all I can think about is… what if someone recognizes the vehicle? What if Gallagher notices too early? What if someone follows her?

The thoughts hit rapid-fire now. Violent. Relentless.

And beneath all of them sits one truth I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I try. I wanted her out of that house.

Not just because of the operation. Not because of Ronan.

Because every instinct in me kept screaming she couldn’t breathe there anymore.

The realization settles heavily into my chest while I stare at the live map tracking her movement through the city.

The office suddenly feels too small again.

Too quiet.

I shove both hands through my hair before dropping heavily into the desk chair.

Think.

Why are you reacting like this?

I’ve helped people before. Protected people before.

Hell, Nevada was just the other day and I coordinated an armed hostage recovery without blinking once.

But this?

This has my nerves lit up like a live wire.

Maeve turns onto Lakeshore Drive.

Closer to her parents now.

And suddenly another thought lands hard enough to still me completely.

I wanted to keep her safe. Not operationally. Not professionally. Personally.

The realization comes fast and brutal.

Because the second that thought forms, everything else suddenly starts rearranging around it.

The cameras. The texts. The obsession with her schedule. The rage every time Ronan corrected her.

It was never just surveillance. It was protection. And apparently my brain decided that long before I consciously caught up.

I lean back slowly in the chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Well,” I mutter to myself. “That seems psychologically catastrophic.”