Page 183 of Riot

We went quiet. Let it sit.

He stared at us like we were roaches that got into his food.

“Look we just wanted…”

“Ion give a fuck what you wanted.” he said after a moment. “That bitch gave me up. Didn’t even look back. Had a whole family while I was bouncin’ between foster homes and juvie.Then your father set me up. Had me locked up over some bullshit beef with a crew I wasn’t even loyal to.”

I could feel my chest tighten and burn at him calling my mother a bitch. I had half the nerve to rush over that table and choke his Drake-skin ass out. Bitch ass nigga. Who the fuck did he think he was talkin’ to.

Creed could sense my fury and tried to smooth things over He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “We came because you’re blood. That matters to us.”

“Did it matter when your moms gave me away?”

“No,” He said. “But it matters now. She asked us to find you. Told us everything. She knew she was wrong. And she wanted us to fix it.”

Cannon scoffed. “Ain’t shit to fix. You wasted yo’ muhfuckin’ time comin’ up here.”

“We’re not here to fix you,” Creed said. “You don’t owe us forgiveness. You don’t even have to talk to us again after today. But you got a family now. A real one. And we don’t leave ours behind.”

Cannon’s eyes flicked between us. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

“You get out next month,” Creed added. “You don’t want nothin’ to do with us? Cool. But if you change your mind... we’ll be there.”

Cannon stood up. Taller than both of us even from across the table. He looked like a goddamn statue carved out of vengeance and heat. His jaw tight, his gaze unreadable.

“Y’all done?”

“Yeah,” I said.

He turned to leave, taking two steps before pausing.

We watched him. Silent.

He didn’t turn around.

But his voice came back over his shoulder. “A lawyer contacted me about some money…”

There it was. He’d at least react to that.

“Ion want that shit. Give it to some homeless kids or some shit.”

Then he walked out.

Creed exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He’s just like us,” he muttered.

“Nah,” I said, watching the door close behind him. “He’s worse. He had to survive without even knowing who he was.”

We stood there for a second, letting it all settle. The ghosts. The guilt. The weight of a bloodline soaked in damage.

But something told me Cannon would come around.

Maybe not today.

Maybe not next month.

But one day.

And when he did, we’d be ready.

Because this time?

Nobody gets left behind.

Not even the ones who don’t want to be found.

The End