Page 41 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

Cannon

It ate at me, the way she called my choices stupid.

Queen ain’t know what the fuck she was talkin’ about.

That money wasn’t some blessing waiting for me.

It was Tessa trying to scrub the blood off her own hands.

She should’ve made things right years ago, long before I had to grind in the streets to survive.

She could’ve written me when I was a kid, reached out, done something.

Instead, she let that sick depraved nigga drag her down. Silas King orchestrated a car accident before the man even knew I existed. Tessa wrote it all in that letter. She knew. She stayed anyway.

Spineless, I used to think. But maybe that was too easy. If he was as twisted and controlling as Creed and Riot said, maybe she felt there wasn’t a way out. Maybe she was trapped like the rest of us.

Didn’t change the fact that Queen’s words still burned through me. Talkin’ like she knew everything. Like she had the right to tell me what I should do. That shit had my blood boiling. I wasn’t some bum waiting for a handout. I knew how to make my own paper. Always had.

But fuck… twenty million was life changing. While I was still tryna figure out how to unlock my crypto and with Sylk Road shut down, maybe she had a point. Maybe I was being stubborn. Maybe I was being stupid.

I called Choke as soon as I hit the street. Needed to clear my head, talk to somebody who wasn’t mixed up in all this Queen drama. We hadn’t hung out since the night of my kickback but we texted here and there.

“Yo,” he answered on the third ring.

“You busy? Need to link up.”

“Perfect timing. I’m at The Pit. Come through.”

Twenty minutes later, I pushed through the door of the dimly lit bar in Uptown. Place was half-empty, just how I liked it. 90’s Hip Hop played low, bartender minding his business, and Choke posted up in the back corner booth nursing what looked like whiskey.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he said, rising to dap me up. “Damn, you look like shit.”

“Good to see you too,” I muttered, sliding into the booth across from him.

Choke signaled the bartender for another glass. He’d always been my most solid connection, the one person who never switched up on me.

“Where you been hiding at? It’s been weeks,” he said, studying my face. “And what’s with the bruises? You back on your bullshit?”

I accepted the whiskey the waitress brought over, taking a long swallow before answering. “Been working security at this club. Sylk Road.” I ain’t even feel like explaining that I got into it with his cousin, my brother.

Choke’s eyebrows shot up. “That high-end joint? How’d you swing that?”

“Owner took a chance on me.”

“Owner, huh?” A knowing smile spread across his face. “That why you been ghost? You fucking the boss lady?”

I glared at him but couldn’t hide the truth. Choke knew me too well.

“Shit,” he laughed. “You are! What’s her name again? Queen something?”

“Queen Davenport,” I said, feeling her name heavy on my tongue after our fight. “And it’s… complicated.”

“With you, it always is.” Choke leaned back, crossing his thick arms. “So what happened? You look like you carrying the weight of the world.”

I told him everything, about meeting Queen, about the club getting shut down because of Jupiter’s overdose, about falling for her harder than I meant to. Then I dropped the bomb about the inheritance.

“Twenty million?” Choke nearly choked on his drink. “From Tessa? And you ain’t take it yet?”

“It’s blood money,” I said defensively.

“It’s YOUR money,” he fired back. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“You sound just like Queen,” I muttered.

“Then Queen’s the only one with sense between the two of you.

” Choke leaned forward, his face serious.

“Listen to me. That money is yours by right. Your birthright. You think turning it down makes you noble? It makes you stupid as hell,” Choke finished.

“You already paid for that money with five years of your life. You paid for it with blood and time. You think your mama leaving you that inheritance is charity? It’s reparations, my nigga. ”

I stared into my glass, letting his words sink in. He wasn’t wrong. Queen wasn’t wrong either. I’d been holding onto this grudge like it was keeping me alive, when really it was just keeping me broke and angry.

“So what if it’s blood money?” Choke continued, refilling my glass. “Most money is. You think these white folks got their wealth from being nice? Hell nah. They stole, killed, and cheated their way to the top. At least this money is rightfully yours.”

“I don’t want to feel like I owe them something,” I admitted.

“Owe them?” Choke laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet bar.

“They owe you! Your birth mother let you grow up without knowing who you really were. Your half-brothers’ daddy had your real father murdered.

Silas King set you up to go to prison. And you think taking what’s legally yours makes you weak? That’s backwards, my guy.”

I rolled the glass between my palms, feeling the cool weight of it. “Queen called me stupid.”

“Because you are,” Choke said without hesitation. “Look at you. Living in that shithole apartment, eating ramen, when you could be building something real. Taking care of the people you care about. Twenty million ain’t just money, it’s freedom.”

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. I sat there, the glass cold between my palms, letting the truth sink in. All this time I’d been telling myself I was being principled, when really I was just being stubborn.

“Fuck,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. “I’ve been acting like a child throwing a tantrum.”

“Exactly. Think about it. You got a woman who’s seen some shit, built something from nothing, and now her whole world’s falling apart.

Her club’s shut down, her dancer’s dead, and here you are sitting on a fortune that could help both of you, but you’re too proud to claim it.

” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Pride is expensive, my nigga. You sure you can afford it?”

The truth of his words settled heavy in my chest. Queen had been right. I was being stupid.

“Shit,” I muttered, rubbing my hand over my face. “You right. You absolutely right.”

I stared at the liquor in my glass, seeing my reflection distorted in the whiskey. All this time I’d been punishing myself to prove some point that didn’t even matter. Twenty million sitting there while I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor like some stubborn-ass child.

“The Kings took five years of my life. Took my father before I ever knew him. Took my chance at a normal life.” I looked up at Choke, clarity washing over me like cold water. “And I’m letting them take more by not claiming what’s mine. That stops today.”

Choke nodded, satisfaction spreading across his face. “About damn time.”

I downed the rest of my drink and stood up. “I appreciate you, my nigga. For real.”

“Where you going?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“To fix my shit,” I answered, extending my hand.

He clasped it firmly, pulling me in for a quick shoulder bump. “Go get your paper, brother. And your woman.”

I stepped out into the night, the weight on my shoulders lighter than it had been in years. The decision felt right, like something clicking into place. I pulled out my phone and dialed Creed’s number as I walked.

“Sup?” he answered.

“I’m ready. The inheritance. I want it,” I replied.

Silence stretched between us for a moment. “What changed your mind?”

“I earned it,” I said simply. “With blood and time.”

“Come to the office tomorrow morning. Nine sharp.” His voice had shifted, all business now. “There’s something else we need to discuss as well.”

“What’s that?”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “Some things are better said in person.”

I hung up and immediately dialed Queen. Straight to voicemail. I tried again. Same result.

“Fuck,” I muttered, typing out a text: You were right. I was being stupid. We need to talk. Pick up your phone.

I stared at the screen, willing those three dots to appear. Nothing. She was probably still pissed, or maybe finally sleeping after everything that happened. Either way, I needed to see her, to apologize, to tell her about my decision.

My apartment was just a few blocks away. I’d shower, change, then head to her place. Even if I had to kick her door in, we were going to talk this out.

The night air felt good against my skin as I walked, my mind racing with possibilities.

With that kind of money, I could help Queen get Sylk Road back on its feet.

Could set up a fund for Jupiter’s son. Could get a real place, something worthy of having Queen in it.

Maybe even that bed and breakfast upstate she’d mentioned.

For the first time since getting out of prison, the future looked like more than just surviving day to day. It looked like something worth building.

I rounded the corner to my block and immediately sensed something was off. Two squad cars parked at awkward angles in front of my building, lights flashing silently, painting the street in alternating red and blue. A small crowd of neighbors had gathered to watch the show.

My first thought was Javi. That punk-ass cop coming for revenge after the beating I gave him. I slowed my pace, weighing my options. I could turn around, disappear for a few days. But the thought of running didn’t sit right. I wasn’t going back to prison over that bitch-made motherfucker.

Before I could decide, a uniformed officer spotted me. “Cannon Price?”

“Who’s asking?” I responded, tension coiling in my muscles.

“NYPD. We need you to come with us.” Two more officers appeared behind him, hands resting on their holsters.

I held my ground. “What’s this about?”

“We have a warrant for your arrest for domestic assault and battery.”

My brain short-circuited. “Domestic assault? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Sir, please put your hands where we can see them.”

“I don’t have a domestic anything,” I insisted, even as I slowly raised my hands. “Who’s claiming I hit them?”

One of the officers moved behind me, the cold metal of handcuffs clicking around my wrists. “Reese Price-Jackson filed a report stating you assaulted her earlier today.”

Reese. My blood turned to ice. “That’s a fucking lie! She’s my sister!”

“You can tell that to the judge,” the officer said, patting me down and removing my phone and wallet. “Cannon Price, you’re under arrest for domestic assault and battery. You have the right to remain silent…”

I barely heard the Miranda rights being recited. My mind was spinning, rage building like a storm. Reese had set me up. Again. First she manipulated me into killing Gage, now this. Because I rejected her twisted ass.

I spotted Javi leaning against one of the squad cars, watching with a smirk as they led me toward the waiting vehicle. Our eyes locked, and his smile widened.

“You did this?” I snarled at him.

He pushed off the car, walking over with that cocky swagger. “Just doing my civic duty. When Ms. Jackson came to the precinct with those bruises, saying her brother beat her up, I made sure her case got priority attention.”

“You know that’s bullshit,” I growled, straining against the cuffs. “You fucking know it.”

“What I know,” Javi said, leaning in close enough that only I could hear, “is that Queen’s going to need someone to comfort her when she finds out her boyfriend’s an abuser. I’ll make sure I’m there for her.”

Red clouded my vision. I lunged forward, nearly breaking free from the officer’s grip before another grabbed me from behind.

“Add resisting arrest,” Javi called out, stepping back with a satisfied look.

They shoved me into the back of the squad car, my head hitting the frame as they forced me down.

“You need to calm down,” one of the officers warned as he slammed the door.

But calm was the last thing I felt as the car pulled away from the curb. All I could think about was Reese’s face, the sick obsession in her eyes when she’d kissed me, and the lengths she was willing to go to punish me for rejecting her. And Javi, using this to get to Queen.

I needed to get out of this. I needed to warn Queen. But as the precinct came into view, all I could do was watch through barred windows as my newfound future slipped away before it even began.