Page 118 of Cannon
“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 ourexistence. 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.
Chapter 45
Cannon
I couldn’t stop seeing her face. Every time I closed my eyes, Reese was there, that moment of clarity right before she pulled the trigger, like she’d finally found peace in her decision to leave this world. The hotel suite felt too quiet, too sterile compared to the chaos of the day. My hands were clean now, but I swear I could still feel her blood between my fingers.
“Here.” Queen’s voice pulled me back to the present as she pressed a glass of Hennessy into my hand. “Drink this. It might help.”
I took a long swallow, barely tasting cognac. The Waldorf Astoria suite stretched around us like another world with crystal chandeliers, plush furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Manhattan’s glittering skyline. A world away from the suburban Jersey nightmare I’d walked into this afternoon. It was a far cry from the shitty apartment I had been living in.
“They finally asleep?” Queen asked, settling beside me on the couch, her body a warm anchor against mine.
I nodded. “Took forever. Josiah kept asking when we’re going home.” My voice cracked on the last word. Home. Those boys didn’t have one anymore.
Queen’s hand found mine, her fingers intertwining with mine like she was trying to physically hold me together. “You did the right thing bringing them here. They needed to get away from that house.”
“I keep thinking I could’ve stopped her.” The confession tumbled out before I could swallow it back. “If I’d moved faster, if I’d gotten there sooner, if I’d just…” I couldn’t finish the thought. The words stuck in my throat like glass.
Queen set her own glass down and shifted to face me, her dark eyes searching mine.
“Cannon, this isn’t on you. Reese made her choice. A terrible, selfish choice, but it was hers.”
I knocked back the rest of my Hennessy, welcoming the burn. “Those boys, Queen. They’ve lost everything. Their father. Now their mother.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “And it’s my fault.”
