Page 48 of Crow's Haven
“That’s exactly why I can’t come,” I whisper back, my voice strained but firm. “I won’t drag you down with me. I’ve already messed up enough lives.”
She sighs heavily, frustration evident, but her voice softens again. “Then at least let me help from a distance. You need to stay low. Keep moving, keep quiet. Don’t leave a paper trail. You’ll have to stay off the grid.”
“I know,” I say, exhaustion seeping into every bone. “But I don’t have a car now. That means I can’t even get an under the table job or have a safe place to sleep at night.”
“Staying off the grid is going to be difficult. Every time you use your bank account, you run the risk of them tracking you.”
“Yeah, I know,” I tell her, feeling a flicker of strength returning. “But by the time they get the alert, I’ll be miles away.”
“You need to find a cheap, quiet hotel. Don’t use your own name. And pay cash there. You need to rest up and eat healthily. Meanwhile, I’ll be working on something more permanent.”
“I’ll do exactly that,” I promise, my voice thickening with gratitude again. “And… thank you.”
“You’d do the same for me. Call me again when you’re safe in a room. I’ll start making some calls to figure out how we fix this.”
“I will,” I whisper. “I love you, Ronnie.”
“Love you too, Sharon,” she says firmly. “Stay safe.”
After hanging up, I glance at Sam. He entered the cab towards the end of my phone call, and he’s been pretending not to listen. He keeps his eyes focused politely on the windshield, but concern lingers in the furrow of his brow.
“Is everything all right?” he asks softly.
I nod quickly, pocketing my new phone. “My cousin has been amazing. I’ve been wondering if you can drop me off somewhere cheap, a motel maybe?”
He considers carefully. “I know a decent place about ten minutes from here. It’s clean, quiet, safe enough. Truckers use it sometimes. The owner doesn’t ask too many questions, so you don’t have to explain your life story to them.”
I breathe out slowly, my tension easing again. “That sounds perfect.”
The drive is quick, passing in silence. It feels more like Sam’s gentle personality than any kind of awkwardness. Sam parks in front of a small, modest motel, its neon sign flickeringgently in the darkness. I stare at the building, a wave of cautious relief washing over me.
“You sure you’re good here?” Sam asks quietly, concern evident in the tone of his voice.
“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.
***
