Page 36 of Crow’s Haven (Savage Legion MC #15)

Crow

T he clubhouse is quieter than usual tonight.

But I guess everyone’s got their own shit on their minds.

My boys are out cold upstairs in my old room, all tuckered out from running wild with Siege’s kids all afternoon.

They didn’t even make it through story time—just collapsed in a heap.

Oblivious. Untouched by the weight pressing down on me like a damn anvil. I envy them for that.

I’m downstairs now, sitting at the bar with a cold beer sweating in my hand.

Tank’s behind the counter, playing bartender, though it’s mostly just an excuse for him to be near the fridge.

He’s already opened his third sandwich since we sat down.

Dutch is perched on a stool, his laugh loud enough to rattle the bottles on the shelves behind him.

Across the table, Vapor and Haze are playing cards.

Venom leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot while texting his old lady.

It feels normal on the surface—guys talking shit, drinking, just hanging out. But there’s a current under it, electric and sharp. Everyone knows we’re waiting for word on what’s happening.

Smoke said tonight was the night. The raid.

And my old lady’s right in the middle of it.

I take a pull from the beer, the bitterness grounding me.

Tank wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and jabs the sandwich towards me. “Your kids ever stop? Thought I was gonna need to call in backup just to keep ‘em from climbing the damn roof with Siege’s twins.”

I huff out something between a laugh and a sigh. “They’re a handful. You’re lucky you don’t have twins.”

Vapor grins, as he spreads out a royal flush. “Yeah, me and my bro just about drove our folks mad at times.”

Haze laughs at that, “You mean you did. I was the good one.”

“Believe what you want, but I remember that time you decided to set up a tattoo parlor in the garage during summer break and Mrs. Mancini stormed in, just as you were about to do Joey’s knuckles,” Vapor shoots back, rolling his eyes.

“I was twelve. It was a fucking sharpie,” Haze counters.

“Yeah, but it took Pops ten minutes just to calm her down. You were on yardwork for a month after that.”

The room bursts into laughter, loud and sharp. For a moment, it feels good. Almost normal. I let myself smirk, though the knot in my chest doesn’t ease.

Venom’s low voice cuts through the noise. “They’re good kids, Crow. Strong. Take after you, it can’t have been easy raisin’ them on your own.”

I nod once, the words hitting deeper than I expect. “Thanks.”

Tank raises his beer in mock salute. “Just hope they don’t inherit your grumpy ass expression. Scare off all the girls.”

Dutch snorts. “Nah, they’ll have no problem. Crow’s boys’ll be heartbreakers. Probably already are.”

“Not if I can help it,” I mutter, half to myself.

These guys—they’re my brothers. My family. They keep me steady when the ground feels like it’s crumbling under my feet.

But even as I laugh, even as I tip back another drink, I can’t shake the storm in my gut.

She’s out there. With feds. In a hospital crawling with danger.

And I can’t do a damn thing but sit here.

I shift on the stool, restless. My fingers tap against the bottle, a rhythm that matches the pounding of my heart.

Dutch notices. He always does. “You’re wound tight as barbed wire, brother.”

“No shit,” I growl.

“You trust her?”

The question punches the air out of me. Not because I doubt her.

Hell no. But because trust doesn’t change the risks.

Doesn’t erase the way things can go sideways in the blink of an eye.

I almost lost her once before because I didn’t give her a chance to explain.

I can’t lose her again. If anything happens and she doesn’t come back, I don’t know how I can explain that to my boys.

Dutch is still looking at me waiting on an answer. “With my life,” I say, my voice certain.

“Good,” Haze says simply. “Then trust her with hers too.”

Easier said than done.

Tank slaps the counter, breaking the tension. “Man, you need distraction. Pool?”

Dutch smirks. “Nah, Crow’s shit at pool. I want an actual challenge.”

“Bullshit,” I shoot back, glad for the spark of competition. “You still owe me from last time.”

“That’s ‘cause you cheated.”

“Cheated? Or just played better?”

We end up around the pool table anyway, cues in hand, the low thud of balls breaking filling the room. I’m not focused, not really, but it’s enough to keep me from spiraling. Dutch tries to shark me, throwing out half-assed smack talk, but I sink a couple clean shots just to shut him up.

Between turns, the talk drifts. Club business, gossip about the town, who patched in recently, who’s running late on dues. It’s background noise, familiar, steady. My phone burns a hole in my pocket the whole damn time, but I keep it there, waiting.

Smoke and Siege are holed away in Siege’s small office.

No doubt strategizing in case anything goes wrong.

Siege with our response, and Smoke covering any legal fallout.

He assured me that the cops had dropped the charges on Sharon, and she was no longer a person of interest. But until she’s back in my arms again I ain’t resting.

Every laugh feels too loud. Every silence too sharp. I catch myself glancing towards the door like I can will our Prez or Smoke to walk through it, bringing news. Good news.

Time stretches. Another game starts. I choose coffee over beer wanting to be ready to ride out to my woman if she needs me.

Then I hear it.

My name.

“Crow.”

Smoke’s voice draws me out to the hallway, quiet but urgent.

I’m already moving before I even process it, cue clattering against the table as I drop it. The others go silent behind me, their jokes dying mid-sentence.

Smoke’s standing there, phone in hand, face tight.

“Crow,” he says again, lower this time. “Just got a call from Agent Harper. They hit the hospital. Sharon’s good—helped them find the missing IV bags. Harper said she’s free to go and told us someone should come pick her up at Twin Rivers Medical Center.”

Relief floods me, quickly chased by a fresh surge of anxiety. “I’m going right now.”

I don’t waste a second, grabbing my cut and racing out to my bike, roaring into the night, images of all the worst-case scenarios spinning through my head. My heart pounds, each mile stretching on forever until I finally see the lights of Twin Rivers ahead.