Page 49 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

Cannon

I ran every red light between Manhattan and Jersey, my grip tight on the steering wheel of my new Range Rover.

Hunter’s terrified voice kept playing in my head like a broken record.

The rational part of my brain screamed that this was a trap, that Reese was using the boys to lure me back after she’d already tried to put me in a cage.

But those were my nephews. I couldn’t turn my back on them, no matter what their mother had done.

The tires squealed as I pulled into Reese’s driveway, barely throwing the car into park before I was out and running toward the front door. The neighborhood was quiet, peaceful. Nobody would guess the storm raging inside that suburban facade.

I didn’t bother knocking. Just turned the handle and pushed my way in.

“Reese!” I called out, my voice echoing through the house.

What I saw stopped me cold. The place looked like a hurricane had torn through it. Furniture overturned, pictures smashed, glass everywhere. The flat-screen TV lay shattered on the floor, and what looked like red wine stained the beige carpet like spilled blood.

Before I could process the destruction, Hunter came flying around the corner, his small body crashing into mine with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. His arms wrapped around my waist, face buried against my stomach.

“Uncle Cannon,” he sobbed, his whole body trembling. “You came.”

I dropped to one knee, putting myself at his eye level. His face was streaked with tears, eyes wide with a fear no child should know.

“Where is she?” I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the rage building inside me at seeing him like this.

“Upstairs,” he whispered, glancing fearfully toward the staircase. “She locked herself in her room after she broke everything. She was screaming about how nobody loves her, how everybody leaves.” He swallowed hard. “She said she was gonna make it all stop.”

My blood turned to ice. I knew exactly what that meant.

“Hunter, I need you to go outside and wait in my car. It’s unlocked.” I pressed the key fob into his small hand. “Can you do that for me?”

He nodded, but his eyes darted toward the stairs. “What about Josiah?”

“I’ll get him. Don’t worry. Just go, now.”

I waited until the front door closed behind him before taking the stairs two at a time. The destruction continued upstairs, more broken glass, clothes strewn everywhere, a hole punched through the drywall. As I passed the boys’ bedroom, I paused, some sixth sense making me look inside.

The room was relatively untouched compared to the rest of the house, but it felt wrong. Too quiet.

“Josiah?” I called softly, scanning the room.

A small sniffle came from under the bed. I crouched down and peered into the darkness, my heart nearly stopping when I saw Josiah’s wide, terrified eyes staring back at me. His small hands were clamped over his mouth, body curled into a tight ball.

“Hey, little man,” I whispered, keeping my voice gentle despite the fury building inside me. “It’s Uncle Cannon. You’re safe now.”

His eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t move.

“Your brother’s waiting in my car. Come on out, Jo. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Slowly, like a wounded animal afraid of being hurt again, he crawled toward me. When he was close enough, I scooped him up, his tiny arms wrapping around my neck in a death grip.

“I got you,” I murmured, feeling him tremble against me. “Go join your brother in my car, okay? Lock the doors and don’t come back inside no matter what you hear.”

I set him down, watching as he ran on shaky legs toward the stairs. Once he was safely downstairs, I turned toward Reese’s bedroom door at the end of the hall. Each step felt heavier than the last, dread mixing with anger in my gut.

I knocked once, my knuckles barely grazing the wood.

“Reese? It’s me.”

Silence stretched for a moment before her voice floated through the door, brittle and high like a cracked bell.

“Cannon? Is that really you?” She sounded almost childlike, vulnerable in a way that made my skin crawl.

“Yeah, it’s me. Let me in.”

“Are the boys with you?” Her voice hardened slightly.

“They’re safe. They’re outside.”

“Good. Keep them out there. This is between us.” A pause, then: “Come in. It’s unlocked.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself before turning the handle.

The door swung open to reveal Reese sitting on the edge of her bed, mascara streaking down her face in black rivers, hair wild around her shoulders.

But it wasn’t her disheveled appearance that made my blood freeze.

It was the gun dangling loosely from her right hand.

“Close the door,” she said, her voice eerily calm now.

I did as she asked, keeping my movements slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving the weapon. “What are you doing, Reese?”

She laughed, the sound hollow and wrong. “What does it look like? I’m ending this nightmare.” Her red-rimmed eyes fixed on mine, desperate and accusing all at once. “You left me. After everything we’ve been through, after what you did for me, you just… left.”

“I didn’t leave the boys,” I said carefully. “I’ve always been here for them.”

“But not for me.” Her voice cracked. “Never for me. Not the way I needed you to be.”

I took a cautious step forward, gauging her reaction. “Put the gun down.”

She lifted the hand gun and aimed it toward me, stopping me dead in my tracks. “Reese, you’re gonna kill me?” I asked.

“Why not? If I can’t have you, no one will. I’ve always loved you, Cannon. Always. You were my rock. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you let me be that to you.”

“Reese, you need help. I love you because you’re family. You mean so much to me but I don’t love you romantically. We can go to therapy and work through this,” I tried to reason with her.

“I can’t live without you. I won’t live in this world seeing you with another woman,” she barked as she slid her finger over the trigger.

“If you kill me, you will go to prison. Who will look after the boys? Huh? You want them growing up like us? Abandoned by our parents? Think this shit through.”

Reese’s hand trembled, her grip on the gun wavering as tears streamed down her face. “You’re right about the boys,” she whispered, her voice suddenly hollow. “They need someone stable. Someone strong.”

Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw clarity break through the madness. “I’m no good for them without you, Cannon. I’ve never been good enough on my own.”

“That’s not true,” I said, taking another careful step forward. “You’re their mother. They need you.”

She shook her head, a sad smile twisting her lips. “No. What they need is you. Someone who won’t break.” Her eyes softened with a terrible resolve. “Promise me you’ll take care of them.”

“Reese, don’t!”

Before I could finish, she swung the gun away from me and pressed it against her temple.

“NO!” I lunged forward, my body moving before my mind could process what was happening.

The gunshot was deafening in the small room. I caught her as she fell, the gun clattering to the floor beside us. Blood. So much blood, warm and sticky between my fingers as I pressed them against the wound.

“Stay with me,” I begged, cradling her head in my lap. “Stay with me, Reese. Please.”

Her eyes found mine, already growing distant. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. I leaned closer, desperate to hear her last words, but there was only the wet gurgle of blood filling her throat. Then nothing. The light in her eyes dimmed, and she was gone.

“Fuck!” I screamed, still pressing my hand against the wound even though I knew it was useless. “FUCK!”

The room spun around me as I held her cooling body, memories crashing through me like waves.

We were all each other had after our adoptive father died and our adoptive mother retreated into her grief, barely acknowledging our existence.

Two abandoned kids clinging to each other in a world that had never wanted either of us.

And I’d failed her. Just like everyone else in her life.

My hands shook as I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialing 911. My voice sounded distant and hollow as I reported the suicide, gave the address, answered their questions mechanically.

When I hung up, I gently laid Reese’s body on the bed, closing her eyes with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, though she couldn’t hear me anymore. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

I stood on unsteady legs, my shirt and hands covered in her blood. I needed to check on the boys. They were my responsibility now. The thought hit me like a physical blow. I was all they had left.

As I moved toward the door, something caught my eye on Reese’s dresser. Mail, stacked neatly despite the chaos around it. And right on top, an envelope addressed to me.

I picked it up, immediately recognizing the handwriting. Draya. Tyran’s sister. What the hell was she doing writing to me here?

I slid the letter into my pocket, unable to deal with one more complication right now. The police would be here soon. I needed to be with Hunter and Josiah, to somehow find the words to tell them their mother was gone.

The walk downstairs felt like miles. Each step carried the weight of what had just happened, what I’d just become, a man responsible for raising two young boys on my own.

I’d killed their father at their mother’s request, and now she was gone too, by her own hand.

The cycle of violence and abandonment that had defined my life was now threatening to swallow theirs.

Outside, I could see their small faces pressed against the window of my Range Rover. Their eyes wide with fear and hope. Hope that I’d somehow fixed everything, that I was bringing their mother out to tell them it was all better now.

But all I had was her blood on my hands and the image of her suicide that I would never be able to wash away.