Page 147 of Override

I almost ignore it.

Declan receives dozens of messages every evening, most of them from guards confirming positions or staff requesting clearance for deliveries. Nothing has changed in three days.

Then I read the words.

Vehicle One prepared for departure at 1900.

I glance at the time in the corner of the screen.

6:52 p.m.

Another notification appears beneath the first.

Mrs. Gallagher accompanying principal. Follow vehicle staging beyond east drive.

Everything inside me goes still.

The forest continues around me. Insects buzz near the light of the screen. Wind moves through the branches overhead, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.

I hear all of it without processing any of it.

Maeve is leaving the house.

For the first time in three days, she is going beyond the walls Ronan closed around her.

I read the message again, checking the sender, timestamp, and encryption even though there is no possibility I misunderstood it.

Mrs. Gallagher accompanying principal.

My hand hovers over the keyboard.

I don’t have a reason to open the camera.

The vehicles are leaving through the east drive. Declan’s phone will show me the route once the convoy moves. I can follow from a distance without risking exposure.

There is no operational value in seeing her walk from the house to the SUV.

I open the exterior feed anyway.

The estate’s east driveway fills the screen.

The image is clear despite the fading light, the camera mounted high enough on the corner of the house to capture the garage doors, the paved turnaround, and part of the road leading toward the gate.

Nothing moves.

The follow vehicle is already positioned beyond the camera’s range, exactly as the message indicated. One guard stands near the edge of the driveway, speaking into his radio while another checks the gate.

I shift the laptop closer. I tell myself I only need one look. Enough to know she is still there. Enough to know Ronan hasn’t taken the last three days and stripped away every part of her I recognize.

Then I’ll leave. The lie is almost convincing.

A light comes on inside the garage. My pulse changes before the door begins to rise.

The metal panels lift slowly, revealing the polished front bumper of a black SUV. Light spills across the driveway in a widening band, cutting through the gathering darkness.

The camera angle doesn’t provide a full view inside. Ronan designed the security system to monitor threats approaching the garage, not the people standing within it.

I know because I spent hours studying every blind spot on the property. At first, all I can see is the SUV.