Page 68 of Override

The office remains deeply unsympathetic.

Onscreen, Maeve grips the steering wheel tighter while morning sunlight catches against her red hair through the windshield. I'm thankful this car has video feed or I might be losing my fucking mind.

She still looks nervous. Like she expects someone to stop her any second. Something sharp twists low in my chest at the sight. Because she should not look scared leaving her own house. That thought alone nearly makes me physically ill.

I open the text thread again before I can stop myself.

You’re doing fine.

I stare at the message. Delete it immediately.

Absolutely not. Too much. Way too much.

I toss the phone onto the desk like it personally betrayed me.

Onscreen, Maeve finally pulls into the private drive leading toward the O’Donnell estate.

Relief hits me so fast I nearly laugh. There. Safe. For now. Then another thought hits.

My stomach drops.

Fuck.

Unless she has a reason for leaving—unless there’s some explanation—the second someone reports back to Gallagher that she disappeared from the estate without authorization, he’s going to lose his mind.

I sit forward sharply.

Would he hurt her?

The answer comes instantly.

No.

At least… I don’t think physically.

Ronan Gallagher doesn’t strike me as a man who loses control like that.

He’s worse.

Calculated. Cold. Punishing in quieter ways.

The thought of him laying a hand on her makes something violent rise instantly inside my chest.

My jaw tightens hard enough to ache.

No. Absolutely fucking not.

The feeling arrives so suddenly it almost steals my breath.

No one hurts Maeve again. Like my brain already categorized her as someone I’m responsible for protecting.

Jesus Christ.

I surge out of the chair so fast it rolls backward into the desk behind me.

Think. She needs cover. An explanation. A buffer. Something to stop Gallagher from turning this into another punishment.

My eyes flick toward the clock automatically while my brain starts building scenarios at machine-gun speed.