Page 53 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

Cannon

I sat in that plastic chair, my back straight as a fucking board, my heart hammering like I’d just done a ten-mile sprint.

The Child Protective Services waiting room felt tight and dark.

The only other time I had to be in a place like this was when someone at Reese’s school called to do a welfare check on us.

This was after our adoptive mother became unstable.

We both lied and made it seem as though everything was okay because we wanted to stay together.

I loved Reese so much like she was blood, and I was determined to love her boys the same way.

Hunter and Josiah sat on either side of me, both of them quiet in a way kids their age should never be.

“Uncle Cannon?” Josiah’s small voice broke through the silence. “Are they gonna let us stay with you?”

I swallowed hard, putting my arm around his thin shoulders. “That’s the plan, little man.”

But my gut was twisted in knots. I knew my record wasn’t clean. I knew that despite my money, despite everything I could provide for them, the system might look at me and see nothing but an ex-con. Someone unfit to raise two traumatized boys.

Hunter leaned against my side, his small body warm and trusting. “I don’t wanna go nowhere else,” he mumbled into my shirt.

“I know, Hunt,” I ruffled his hair, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m doing everything I can.”

The clock on the wall ticked by so slow it felt deliberate. Fifteen minutes turned to thirty. My leg bounced with nervous energy, but I forced myself to stay calm for the boys’ sake. The social worker had told us to be here at ten sharp. It was now almost eleven, and we were still waiting.

I couldn’t stop seeing Reese’s face in those final moments, that terrible clarity in her eyes before she pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot still echoed in my dreams. How the fuck was I supposed to explain to these kids that their mama chose to leave them?

That their daddy was gone too, killed by my own hands at their mama’s request?

“Mr. Price?” A woman’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “We’re ready for you now.”

I looked up to see a middle-aged Black woman with kind eyes and a clipboard. She smiled at the boys, then back at me.

I stood, taking each boy by the hand. “Thank you, Ms. Thompson.”

We followed her down a narrow hallway with motivational posters about family and bright children’s artwork taped to the walls. My palms were sweating, but I kept my grip firm on the boys’ hands.

“Right this way,” Ms. Thompson said, opening a door to a conference room.

I stopped cold in the doorway. Sitting at the table weren’t just social workers, but Mia, Gage’s sister, and her husband Ivan. My blood turned to ice. I hadn’t seen Mia in years. Not since before I got sent away.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice dropping low.

Ms. Thompson gestured for us to enter. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Price. As you can see, Mia and Ivan Winters have joined us today.”

“Aunt Mia!” Josiah broke free from my grip and ran to her. Hunter stayed glued to my side, his small fingers tightening around mine.

I moved stiffly to the table, pulling out chairs for Hunter and myself. “Nobody told me this was a family meeting.”

Mia’s eyes met mine, sympathetic but determined. “I’m sorry, Cannon. We tried to reach you yesterday.”

Ms. Thompson cleared her throat. “Mr. Price, I understand this comes as a surprise, but Mrs. Winters contacted our office immediately after learning of Mrs. Price’s passing.”

The room felt too small suddenly, the air too thin. I kept my face neutral, years in prison teaching me to mask emotions that could be used against me.

“I have something you need to see,” Mia said quietly, sliding a folder across the table.

I opened it, scanning the legal document inside. The words blurred together at first, then snapped into sharp focus: “Last Will and Testament of Gage and Reese Price.”

“Both Gage and Reese designated Mia and Ivan as the boys’ legal guardians in the event of their deaths,” Ms. Thompson explained. “The document was filed with the court last year.”

“That’s not possible,” I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. “Reese would have told me.”

Mia leaned forward, her voice gentle. “Cannon, I know this is hard. But Gage and Reese made this decision together. They wanted the boys to have a stable home with two parents if anything happened to them.”

I stared at the signatures on the page, Reese’s flowing script next to Gage’s blocky print. The date showed it was signed just months after I went to prison. When she thought I’d be locked up for years. When she’d given up on me.

“Uncle Cannon?” Hunter tugged at my sleeve, his voice small and uncertain. “What’s happening?”

I couldn’t answer him. My throat closed up as the reality crashed down on me like a collapsing building. They were taking the boys. My boys. The two innocent lives I’d sworn to protect.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Price,” Ms. Thompson said, her professional tone doing nothing to soften the blow. “While we appreciate your willingness to take custody, the legal documents are clear. The Winters are the designated guardians.”

I felt Hunter’s small body press against mine, seeking protection I couldn’t provide. My jaw clenched so tight I thought my teeth might crack.

“This is bullshit,” I finally managed, my voice dangerously low.

“Cannon, please,” Mia said, her eyes pleading. “Not in front of the children.”

I looked down at Hunter, then at Josiah, who was now staring at me with confusion in his eyes. These boys had already lost everything. Their father. Their mother. And now they were about to lose me too.

“I can provide for them,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I have the means, the space—”

“It’s not about money,” Ms. Thompson interjected gently. “The boys’ parents made their wishes legally binding. The court will honor those wishes unless there’s evidence the designated guardians are unfit.”

Ivan spoke up for the first time. “We want what’s best for the boys, Cannon. They need stability, routine. A normal family life.”

The implication hung in the air. A normal family life I couldn’t provide. Not as a single man. Not with my history.

“No!” Hunter suddenly shouted, tears streaming down his face. “I want to stay with Uncle Cannon! You can’t make us go!”

Josiah broke away from Mia and ran to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Don’t let them take us, Uncle Cannon,” he sobbed.

I knelt down, pulling both boys close. Their small bodies shook with sobs that ripped through me like bullets.

I wanted to promise them I’d fight, that I wouldn’t let this happen.

But I knew the system. Knew the weight of legal documents.

Knew that sometimes, no matter how hard you fought, you lost anyway.

“Listen to me,” I said, my voice rough with emotion I refused to let break. “I need you both to be strong right now. Can you do that for me?”

They nodded, tears still flowing.

“Aunt Mia and Uncle Ivan are good people. They’re going to take care of you.” The words tasted like poison on my tongue. “And I will see you. I promise you that. Nothing—not papers, not distance, nothing—is going to keep me from being in your lives.”

“You promise?” Hunter asked, his eyes wide and desperate.

“I swear on my life,” I said.

Mia stood up from the table, her expression softening slightly. “We’ll be in touch about visitation schedules, Cannon. The boys need you in their lives, just… in a different capacity than you planned.”

I nodded stiffly, unable to form words past the rage and grief choking me.

“And about Reese’s funeral arrangements,” she added, hesitating slightly. “Since you were her next of kin, would you like some help planning the service? I know this is a lot to handle all at once.”

“Nah, I got it,” I said, my voice hard as concrete. “I’ll take care of my sister.”

The boys clung to me as I knelt down for one last hug. I breathed them in, memorizing their scents, the feel of their small arms around my neck.

“Be good for your aunt and uncle,” I whispered. “I’ll see you soon. That’s a promise.”

Hunter’s tears soaked my collar. “Love you, Uncle Cannon.”

“Love you too, little man. Both of you.”

Walking out of that building was the hardest thing I’d done since leaving prison. Each step felt like I was dragging lead weights. The bright sunshine outside mocked my darkness, the cheerful sounds of the street at odds with the storm raging inside me.

I slid behind the wheel of my Range Rover and just sat there, wanting to punch somebody in the face. I wanted to snatch the boys and get the hell out of New York. Shit, I wanted to drive back to the morgue and curse Reese out for this final betrayal.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Queen’s name flashed on the screen, and I nearly declined it. Even though she was the sweetest thing in the world, I didn’t want to speak with her. But something told me to answer.

“Yeah?” My voice sounded hollow, distant.

“Cannon.” Queen’s voice came through tight with panic. “ZaZa’s been shot. We’re at Harlem Hospital. It’s bad.”

The world tilted on its axis. “What? What happened?”

“It was Marcus, her boyfriend. He’s Alfred Dixon’s son.” Her words tumbled out, thick with tears. “He was using ZaZa to get to me. For revenge. I killed him, but accidentally shot her in the process. There’s so much blood, Cannon. The doctors won’t tell me anything.”

I was already starting the engine. “I’m on my way.”

This day… no, this week kept getting worse and worse. There were just some things that money cannot buy.