Page 28 of Crow’s Haven (Savage Legion MC #15)

Sharon

N ow it’s time to face his club brothers.

Sitting on the worn leather chair in front of Siege’s desk, I can feel the heat of every pair of eyes on me.

Crow’s gaze is steady and reassuring. Rigs’ expression is calm but intense.

Siege’s expression has been guarded and borderline suspicious every time I’ve ever seen him, making me think this is his baseline.

Zen’s eyes are always on his laptop screen.

His expression is alert and curious. Smoke’s professional detachment speaks to his experience as a prominent local attorney.

My palms rest on the top of my jeans. I rub my hands back and forth, trying not to think about how easily Crow and I fell back into having sex.

Crow reaches out and touches my arm. “You alright, Ladybug?”

I glance down at his hand and give him a quick nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

His lips press into a firm line. We both know the moment is coming when I would have to face up to the brothers who’ve spent days looking for me.

When Rider strolls into the room with Tank and Dutch, it’s time to get down to business.

Siege asks, “Sharon, do you know why our club officers asked to speak with you?”

Shooting Crow a nervous glance, I respond respectfully, “Your club spent a lot of time and resources looking for me and you want to know why I ran.”

Rigs speaks up, “It’s more than just idle curiosity, Miss Sharon. We know there’s a warrant out for your arrest and since you’re Crow’s old lady, we consider you part of the Savage Legion family. That means our club is willing to do whatever we can to help you, but you have to tell us the truth.”

I look down at my hands, as I try to figure out what to say. Here, in front of Crow’s club brothers, I can’t hide the tremor in my voice or the doubt that creeps through my tone. “That warrant is for a murder I didn’t commit. I don’t think that anyone can really help me get clear of this mess.”

“You’d be surprised what this club can do when we put our minds to it,” Siege tells me. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell us what happened?”

“I was a pediatric nurse at the hospital in my area,” I begin, my voice low but steady. “It’s a Level I trauma center in the heart of the city. We see the worst cases. Things like gunshot wounds, car accidents, and industrial accidents. My unit specialized in critical care for children under ten.”

Zen’s fingers type away on his laptop. “How long had you been assigned to that unit?” he asks, thumb scrolling.

“Eighteen months,” I say, swiping to the next image.

It’s a chart detailing vitals from that morning.

“I cared for three patients that day. One of them was Joshua Clay. He was a five-year-old with a congenital heart defect. He had surgery two weeks earlier and was improving. His surgeons expected a full recovery.”

Smoke tilts his head, his fingertips resting together. “What was your mindset when you left for your break?”

I stare at the data lines. “I felt confident. His oxygen saturation was at ninety-nine percent, heart rate stable at ninety beats per minute, his respirations smooth. I logged out of the system with a quick note to that effect and my final line was, ‘Continue current regimen, no parameter changes.’ I remember thinking I could grab coffee and clear my head.”

Siege’s voice is calm but firm. “How long was your break?”

“One hour.” I flick to a timestamp: 2:17?PM. “I signed back in at 3:15?PM.”

Smoke’s pen taps twice. “When you arrived at Joshua’s room, what did you see?”

I let out a breath. “The door was half open. I pushed it fully and saw monitors flatlining. His color was pale, his chest motionless. Carla was in the back of the room gloving up. I just jumped into action without giving it a second thought, and pressed the code button on the wall, shouted for help, then leaned over him, starting chest compressions.”

Zen raises one eyebrow. “Did the rest of the team arrive quickly?”

I nod, my voice confident. “In under thirty seconds. The respiratory therapist arrived first with an intubation kit, and several others were right on her heels. Dr. Brunell, the pediatric cardiologist, took the lead once he arrived a minute or so later. I switched to bag valve mask ventilation and monitored compressions until the doctor ordered epinephrine.” I pause, swallowing.

“We administered two doses. At some point, Carla disappeared. We tried shocking him, but it wasn’t enough. ”

Rigs’ eyes soften. “Were there any signs you or Carla missed before the code?”

“No,” I say firmly. “His chart from my shift showed no downward trends. No meds were skipped, the monitor readouts verified his vitals never dipped below expected levels considering his overall condition. Every protocol was followed. I have the timestamped logs here.” I show them a second screenshot on my phone.

“See the window log? It records system lockout at 3:16, immediately after I logged back in.” I clear my throat.

“I retrieved those screenshots seconds after it happened and before they removed me from the system.”

Siege’s jaw tightens. “The hospital blames you for negligence, correct?”

My throat constricts. “Yes. They claim I delayed reporting, that I triaged incorrectly. They allege I waited too long to call the code. None of it is true.” My voice catches.

“I reported within two seconds of seeing the flatline. The nurses’ station logs confirm the code button press at 3:16:12.

They know the timeline, but I guess they must have needed a scapegoat. ”

Zen’s eyes linger on the images. “Why would they push that narrative?”

I glance away, my heart pounding. “I don’t know, maybe because of insurance liability or fear of lawsuits from the family. I even suspected at one point that they may be covering for surgical complications. If Joshua’s graft failed, they need to shift blame.”

“But you don’t suspect that now?” Smoke asks.

Pausing for a second to organize my thoughts, I tell them what I think happened.

“The only strange thing I saw in the chart was his IV was changed out while I was on break, but my employee number was entered into the system. We normally scan our badges in for each med administration, but I had my card with me. That means someone intentionally entered my employee number by hand. The more I thought about it, the more I started to wonder if it was a bad batch of IV fluids, maybe containing some kind of foreign contaminant.”

Smoke taps his pen on his notepad. “So, the only variable in Joshua’s care that afternoon was that IV bag.”

I inhale, feeling my pulse speed up. This is the moment I realize there could be something more sinister than hospital politics.

“I dug into it,” I say, voice low. “After I left here that night, I searched nursing forums, internal message boards, even the FDA recall page. I found posts from at least three other nurses mentioning sudden adverse reactions in immunocompromised patients after that manufacturer’s batch was used. ”

Zen’s head jerks up. “How many cases are we talking?”

I count on my fingers. “Four more that I could track. Two adults in oncology wards. One bone marrow transplant patient. And a three-year-old leukemia patient who coded within minutes of the IV fluids being started. All of them within seventy-two hours of that batch’s release.”

Rigs’ brow furrows. “Have you preserved those posts?”

I nod. “Screenshots, timestamps, thread links. I’ve compiled them into a folder.” I pull it up on my phone and pass it to Zen. “You can download the information and review it if you like.” He takes the device, thumbs whirring to open the documents. “I highlighted the critical passages.”

Siege leans forward. “What does it suggest to you?”

I trace the outline of my coffee cup on the table.

“That bag may have been contaminated. Not visibly, but maybe a bacterial toxin or something inside. It might explain why a child with stable vitals crashed so suddenly. I followed protocol as did the rest of the medical team. He coded within a minute of the infusion starting.”

Smoke glances between me and Zen. “If that’s true, it’s medical malpractice on a massive scale and possibly with criminal intent before or after the fact.” He taps his notebook. “We need to know whether the hospital discovered any irregularities before blaming you.”

Zen hands my phone back. “The forums mention an anonymous whistleblower email sent to a regional rep. That was two days before Joshua’s code. No official recall notice appeared.”

Crow’s hand finds mine under the table. He squeezes gently. “So, the hospital might have known and decided to bury it.”

I nod, voice tight. “They could have swept everything under the rug by making me the face of negligence.” My eyes sweep across the room. “I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but when the only thing that changed is that IV bag, it’s hard to chalk it up to anything else.”

Rigs’ lips press into a thin line. “What can we do with this information?”

Smoke jots more notes. “We catalogue every possible lead—the batch number, the manufacturing date, the nursing forum posts, that whistleblower tip. Then we verify system logs to see if the hospital notified staff internally. If they sat on this, they’re liable.”

Zen lifts his tablet. “I’ll pull the hospital’s inventory logs tonight and cross-reference the serial numbers. If that bag was flagged in any way, the database will show it. If not, we’ll look for gaps, missing entries, manual overrides, sudden note deletions.”

Siege leans forward, voice measured. “We also need to consider motive. Insurance settlements, medical board reputation, lawsuits. If they blamed you quickly, they reduced their risk.”

I inhale, feeling a spark of hope in my chest. “We could also reach out to the families of the other victims.” The room goes silent for a moment. “They deserve answers, too. And who knows what they’re aware of regarding the deaths of their loved ones. Maybe they have useful information to add.”

Smoke looks up, nodding. “We’ll draft a list of potential witnesses and contact information.” He glances at Zen. “Get me all the logs you can find.” Zen taps his tablet.

Siege straightens, his voice low. “We’ll assemble a formal strategy session tomorrow. Tonight, we’ll gather more data. Smoke, you’re our club’s attorney. I want you to take point on this.”

He nods. “I’ll flag posts that reference IV-related lawsuits or regulatory filings. Maybe there’s a FOIA record I can request.”

Siege responds, “Keep us in the loop. If you need anything, just let us know, and we’ll get it for you.”

Turning to me, Siege continues, “Sharon, I want you to revisit those nursing sites. Flag anything you see in those forum posts that seems like it might be related and forward it to Zen.”

The club’s IT specialist shoots me a happy look. “I’ll give everything you send me a once-over for anomalies in the text patterns and timestamps.”

Everything is happening so fast. It’s hard to believe that now I have a team working on my case.

Siege slaps Crow on the arm. “I want you to stay close to your old lady and make sure she’s safe. If anyone figures out that she’s here, we may have to move swiftly to relocate her.”

Crow wraps his arms around me from behind. “Don’t worry Prez. I wasn’t gonna let her outta my sight.”

I rest my head lightly on his shoulder, the knot in my chest loosening. Here in this room, among these brothers, this is my last and best hope of finally seeing justice done. I’ve given them my story. Now they’re giving me the kind of earnest help I’ve desperately needed all along.

Smoke tucks his pen into his shirt pocket. “I’ll contact a retired medical examiner for consultation. One who won’t be intimidated by big hospital lawyers.”

Siege stands. “Then we adjourn for the evening. Tomorrow, we will reconvene here with everything we uncover. We’ll trace every step of this kid’s care. We’ll figure out how the fuck this kid died and who’s responsible.”

I’m incredibly grateful for their help. Crow drapes his arm around my shoulders as we head for the door.

As we step into the glow of the fluorescent lighting in the hallway, I feel the knot in my stomach begin to unravel.

We have a plan, a timeline, and a team willing to fight for the truth.

The darkness that drove me away is slowly fading away.