Page 66 of Override

Every lesson my father ever taught me screamed not to get into a stranger's car. Every lesson Ronan had taught me over the last six months screamed not to disobey him.

Somehow...I reached for the handle anyway.

I slide into the driver’s seat. The engine starts immediately. My mouth goes dry.

The garage doors begin lifting before I even shift into reverse.

“Oh my God,” I whisper.

By the time I reach the estate gates, panic and adrenaline are crashing together so hard I can barely think straight.

Then the gates swing open automatically. No guards stand outside. No checkpoint. No questions. Just open road stretching endlessly ahead beneath gray morning skies.

Freedom.

The realization hits so suddenly my chest physically aches around it. I drive. Fast.

The estate disappears farther behind me with every passing second while my hands tighten around the steering wheel hard enough to hurt.

Then my phone vibrates.

Unknown:

The car’s GPS is off.

Another message follows.

Unknown:

Enjoy your visit.

I smile even though this is all absolutely crazy. Ronan is going to be pissed when he finds out I left. But, I can’t find it in me to care. I am going to get to see my parents. I lift the phone wanting to text them back. Thank them for helping me. Instead I change the contact in my phone.

Taibhse.

For the first time in months...I smile without checking whether anyone is watching.

Chapter 14

Keaton (Skee)

I’m never nervous. That’s not ego. It’s fact. Six years military. Three years Grayline. More operations than I can count. Hostage recoveries. Extraction jobs. Black-site surveillance. Cartel tracking. Off-book government work nobody officially signed off on. My pulse usually stays the same through all of it.

Steady. Controlled. Useful.

So the fact that my heart is currently trying to punch through my ribs while Maeve drives through downtown Chicago should probably concern me more than it does.

I pace once across the Grayline office before turning back toward the surveillance monitors.

Then pace again. My fingers tap rapidly against my thigh. One-two-three-four. Again.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

The operation went perfectly. Perfectly. Every camera rerouted correctly. Every security rotation manipulated on schedule. Gate cleared. Vehicle tracking disabled. Objectively speaking, this might actually be one of the cleanest unauthorized extractions I’ve ever run.

So why does it feel like I swallowed live ammunition?

On the monitor, Maeve stops at a red light downtown.