Page 23 of Crow’s Haven (Savage Legion MC #15)

“I’ll be fine,” I promise softly. “You’ve already done so much.”

He smiles faintly, grandfatherly warmth returning to his expression. “Take care of yourself, darlin’. You’ve got my number if you need help again. Use it anytime.”

“Thank you,” I whisper again, swallowing past the sudden tightness in my throat. “Really. You have no idea how much you helped me tonight.”

He nods once, eyes gentle. “Be safe, Ladybug.”

My heart jerks painfully at the nickname, reminding me of Crow, Scout, Chase, and the life I left behind. But it also warms me, reminding me I’m not invisible, not worthless. Someone out there still cares.

I watch Sam’s truck disappear into the darkness, then step inside the small office. True to his word, the motel clerk asks no questions, accepting cash without comment and handing over a key.

My room is small, simple, and worn, but it’s also clean, safe, and all mine for as long as I can manage to pay the room rent.

Locking the door firmly behind me, I finally allow exhaustion to claim my body.

In the tiny bathroom, hot water sluices over my body, washing away the sweat, fear, and tension of the last twenty-four hours.

I close my eyes, leaning heavily against the shower wall.

Crow’s furious expression haunts me. As does Scout’s trusting eyes and Chase’s innocent smile.

Guilt twists painfully through my gut. I’m sad enough to cry, but I feel all cried out.

It’s for the best because I can’t break, not now.

Not ever. The strong keep fighting, no matter how hard or long the fight is.

I remember Crow telling that to the prospects he trains and took it to heart.

I step out of the shower, wrapping a thin towel around my body. Although I’m alone and vulnerable, I’m still standing and still fighting the good fight. Some small part of my brain wants to think Crow would be proud of me for not giving up, but I honestly don’t think he cares about me anymore.

Tomorrow, I’ll find a way forward. I’ll clear my name somehow and rebuild my life. I know some people have big dreams, but mine are modest by comparison. I only dream of having what I once had again.

Tonight, though, I simply breathe, savoring the fragile, temporary peace of this small motel room—my secret haven, my safe place, at least for now.

Tomorrow will come soon enough. Tonight, I just need to survive.

***

The next afternoon, my phone jingles. It’s my cousin.

“So, you found somewhere to stay last night?” she asks softly, concern still saturating her tone.

“Yeah. The trucker who picked me up took me to a place he knew was safe and I paid in cash, just like you suggested. I even got a decent night’s sleep,” I confirm quietly, gazing around the worn motel room. “Nobody at the front desk asked any questions.”

“Good,” she sighs with relief, then abruptly brightens, her voice shifting to the tone she always takes when she’s trying to distract me from worry. “Hey, so listen. Did I ever tell you about the apartment complex my friend Cassie moved into last summer?”

I blink, thrown by the sudden change of subject. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, let me tell you, this place is wild,” she launches into her story enthusiastically, clearly intent on steering my mind away from the darker thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me.

She’s chatting away. Usually I love to hear my cousin’s rambling stories, but today I have other things on my mind.

“—and there was this huge, empty room just lying vacant,” she says. “Would you believe it?”

“Sorry? What?” I ask, confused.

“You weren’t even listening were you?” she admonishes me.

I let out a sigh, “I’m so worried about everything I can barely think. Go on, I need distraction,” I say.

“I was telling you I think I found a solution to your problem about where to stay longer term.”

I sit up at that, “Tell me again, I’m listening.”

“My friend Cassie, she’s moved into this apartment complex.

They can’t get packages delivered directly so the mailman uses an old laundry building that’s attached.

The apartments all have a washer and dryer so it’s not used anymore.

It’s got a keypad lock so it’s safe from thieves.

She found out when she got some shoes delivered.

Anyway, she was looking around and there’s actually a room at the back.

It’s like a self-contained apartment, basic, but probably where the night maintenance man used to live. ”

She pauses and I consider her words. I have a feeling I know where this is going.

“Remember Cassie’s friend Shana, the one who was always getting into fights at school?”

I nod even though she can’t see me.

“Well, she split up with her latest boyfriend and had nowhere to stay. Cassie told her about the room and said she could probably use it to crash for a while. She stayed there for a month before she moved on. But I was talking to Cassie about you—”

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” I ask in horror.

Ronnie answers, “I had to. She’d heard the rumors. Anyway, I asked if, hypothetically speaking, a person needed to lay low, was the room still available. She said sure, and told me the keypad code.”

My heart starts racing. “It’s really okay if I stay there?”

There’s a long pause. When she finally replies, her voice is quieter, careful, yet hopeful. “Sometimes the safest places are ones everyone else overlooks. Forgotten spaces, hiding in plain sight. Plus you’d be near me so I could visit you. The complex is only three blocks away.”

My mind begins to spin slowly, cautiously turning her words over in my thoughts. “And Cassie would do that, let me stay? What about the other people in the apartment complex, wouldn’t they see me?”

Ronnie’s voice softens with gentle urgency. “They don’t know about it. I think this room is exactly what you need.”

My breath catches sharply, possibilities flooding my mind. A hidden refuge, forgotten by the world. “Are you serious that nobody would notice?”

“I’m positive,” she insists earnestly.

Still, I hesitate because nothing in my life is ever this easy. I exhale slowly, thinking. This idea is almost too good to be true. What are the chances that there’s a safe, forgotten room squirreled away there that’s totally free and just waiting for me when I’m at my most desperate?

“I don’t know,” I say hesitantly, still wary. While I trust my cousin, I don’t like the idea of her friend being involved. “It sounds like the solution to all my problems but what if someone finds me there?”

“Who would look?” she counters gently. “The cops wouldn’t think to look at that apartment, because you have no connections to the location.

Even if they did, they would be looking inside the apartments and maybe skimming the rest of the building.

Chances are they would just glance inside the laundry room and call it a day. ”

What she’s saying is true. The logic of it settles my mind. My natural fear and suspicion give way to genuine hope.

“You really think this will work?” I ask, feeling more upbeat. “That it’ll keep me safe until we figure out how to clear my name?”

“I really do,” she says fiercely. “To be honest, we’re out of other options right now.

This falls more in the last hope category.

It’s the safest option we have right now.

And it’ll keep you close, give us breathing room and time to figure out why they’re blaming you for that child’s death.

I’ll handle your groceries, your phone bill, and anything else you need. Nobody will trace it back to you.”

I think it over for a few seconds and decide to take them at face value. This is the first real chance I’ve had at something beyond just running.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” My voice is thick with emotion. “Thank you. I don’t know how to tell you how much this means to me.”

Her tone softens, warmth evident even through the phone line. “You deserve a chance to clear your name. I won’t let you fight this alone.”

A quiet breath escapes me, relief so sharp it borders on pain. “What do I do now?”

“I’ll text you the address,” she says calmly, her practicality returning.

“Alright, I have enough left over from the money you sent for a bus ticket,” I pause for a moment. “Won’t they ask for ID?”

“No, I doubt it. But if they do, just say you got your wallet stolen or something. If the worst comes to the worst, you can grab another lift with a trucker.”

“Oh, okay. That’s quick thinking.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this. If someone is trying to put the blame on you, then they’re gonna slip up eventually.”

I swallow thickly. My cousin is the only person who truly believes in my innocence. And to hear her say it out loud means the world to me.

“I hope so,” I say.

My cousin pauses, her voice turning gentle. “This isn’t the end. You know that, right? It’s just a pause, a chance to regroup. No matter how long it takes, we’re gonna clear your name.”

The sincerity in her voice steadies me further, a lifeline of comfort and trust. “I believe you.”

“Good,” she says warmly. “You can do this.”