Page 213 of Override

Conversation dies instantly.

Callum steps onto the porch first, his broad shoulders filling one side of the doorway. Beside him stands Cormac O'Donnell, his expression carved from stone as his gaze immediately lands on the collection of unfamiliar vehicles crowding his driveway.

Then movement inside the house catches my attention. A woman appears at the top of the staircase. She doesn't hesitate.

She's already moving before she reaches the first step, one hand sliding along the banister as she descends faster than anyone her age probably should. She never looks toward Callum. Never looks toward Cormac. Never even acknowledges the half-dozen people standing in her front yard.

Her eyes lock on Maeve. Pure relief floods her face. She pushes past both men the second she reaches the front door.

"Maeve." Her voice carries across the driveway. Not panicked. Not frantic. Just...a mother who finally sees her daughter.

Beside me, Maeve goes completely still. I don't think she's breathing. Her fingers slip from mine before I even realize she'd been holding onto my hand.

She takes one hesitant step. Then another. Then she's moving. Not running. Almost like she's afraid if she moves too quickly, the moment will disappear.

Her mother closes the remaining distance. Neither of them says another word.

She wraps Maeve in her arms with a relieved laugh that immediately breaks into something shakier, one hand cradling the back of her daughter's head as she holds her close.

"Oh, thank God."

Maeve folds into her. Not because she needs to be held. Because she's finally allowed to. The sound that leaves her is so quiet I almost miss it.

A broken little breath. The kind someone makes when they've spent too long holding themselves together.

Her mother's hands move over her hair, her shoulders, her face, checking her the way only mothers do.

"I was so worried," she whispers. "When Ronan called... sweetheart, I was so worried."

The words hit me like a punch. She doesn't know. None of them do.

Maeve squeezes her eyes shut.

"Inside." Cormac's voice cuts cleanly through the silence. It's calm. Controlled. The kind of voice that expects to be obeyed without ever needing to be raised.

I watch Maeve's shoulders tense. Just enough that I almost miss it.

Her mother's arm is still wrapped around her, but Maeve's head turns, her gaze finding mine over her shoulder.

She doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to. I've spent weeks learning her. I know what fear looks like on her. I know what uncertainty looks like. This is neither.

She's looking for me. For one impossible second, every instinct I have screams at me to go to her. To close the distance. To remind her she's not walking into that house alone.

But before I can move, her mother gently guides her toward the front steps. "Come on, sweetheart."

Maeve goes. Not because she wants to leave me. Because she doesn't know how to tell the woman holding her together that she needs someone else too.

I wait until they're halfway to the porch before falling into step behind them. Not beside Maeve. That would only make her mother wonder why her daughter suddenly needed another man at her side.

Not too far back either. Just close enough. Three steps. Close enough that if Maeve looks over her shoulder, she'll find me exactly where she expects me to be.

She looks and for one heartbeat our eyes meet. I give her a single nod quietly saying, I'm here.

The tension in her shoulders eases just enough for me to notice. Then she turns back toward the house.

I follow.

Chapter 45