Page 78 of Override

My entire body locks instantly.

Onscreen, Maeve stands near the main house entrance in the garage with one hand wrapped around the coffee cup I left for her while Declan watches her too carefully from ten feet away.

Waiting. Assessing.

The security feed crackles softly through the office speakers while my grip tightens harder around the mouse.

Move toward her. I dare you.

The thought comes fast. Violent.

My pulse pounds steadily harder beneath my skin while I track every shift in Declan’s posture automatically.

Weight balanced evenly. Right side dominant. Phone in left hand.

No immediate threat.

Still—my jaw tightens hard enough to ache when he pulls the phone up to make a call.

Because I know exactly who he’s calling.

Maeve straightens slowly instead of shrinking back.

Lifts her chin. Squares her shoulders.

And suddenly she doesn’t look like the woman crying quietly on the bathroom floor anymore.

She looks like Cormac O’Donnell’s daughter.

“There she is,” I murmur before I can stop myself.

Declan says something I can’t hear through the garage feed. Maeve answers calmly.

Cold enough to make the younger guard standing near the door immediately glance away from her.

A tiny flicker of satisfaction moves through me.

Good. Then she walks away. Not rushing. Not apologizing.

Like she belongs there. Because she does.

The door closes behind her seconds later.

Only then do I realize my hand hurts.

I glance down.

My fingers are locked so tightly around the mouse my knuckles have gone white.

Jesus Christ.

I release it immediately and shove back hard from the desk.

Enough. This has gone far enough.

I pace once across the office, dragging both hands through my hair while adrenaline still crackles violently beneath my skin.

The garage feed loops silently behind me.