The Last Round - Chapter 12

Sutton

My phone rings mid-meeting.

I glance at the screen, expecting it to be work- related, but the second I see the caller ID, my stomach drops.

Kingston’s school.

Fucking hell.

I excuse myself, stepping into the hallway before answering. “This is Detective Callahan.’

“Ms. Callahan, this is Principal Matthews.” His voice is clipped, annoyed, like he’s already made up his mind about whatever the hell this is. “We need you to come to the school immediately. Your son got into a fight.”

My grip tightens around my phone.

Of course, he did.

Of course, this is happening now.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, inhaling slowly. “Is he hurt?”

“He’ll live. But the other boy is bloodied up pretty bad, and we take violence very seriously here. There will be consequences for this.”

I glance at my watch, my day already shot to hell. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

I hang up before he can say anything else.

Fucking Kingston.

I drive to the school, my mind spinning the whole way. I know my son. He’s not some reckless, hotheaded kid who throws fists just because he can. If he hit someone, there was a reason.

But that’s not going to matter to the school.

They see him as the problem already-I can hear it in Matthews’ voice.

I park, throw the car into park harder than necessary, and march inside. The secretary barely has time to tell me where to go before I push into the principal’s office.

And there he is.

Kingston, sitting in one of the stiff wooden chairs, his arms crossed over his chest. His jaw is tight, his knuckles bruised and split open.

His expression?

Cold. Unapologetic.

Across from him sits another kid, slouched over, holding a bloody tissue to his nose.

And standing behind the desk-Principal Matthews.

I close the door behind me and cross my arms. “What happened?”

Matthews barely looks at Kingston before answering.

“Your son initiated an unprovoked attack on another student in the cafeteria today,” he says, voice stern like he’s already made up his mind.

“He punched the student repeatedly, tackled him to the ground, and continued to strike him even after he was clearly incapacitated. We do not tolerate this kind of violence, and as such-”

“Shut up and let my kid fucking talk.”

The room goes dead silent.

Kingston’s head jerks up. His lips twitch, but he bites it back.

Matthews blinks like he didn’t just hear what he heard. “Excuse me?”

“I said let. My. Kid. Talk.” I step forward, planting my hands on his desk. “Or are you just going to keep running your mouth instead of figuring out what actually happened?”

The other kid shifts uncomfortably. Kingston smirks. Matthews clears his throat, clearly flustered, but waves a hand. “Fine. Kingston, explain yourself.”

Kingston leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His voice is calm. Controlled. But his knuckles are still clenched white.

“He called my mom a ring rat. Said she was just some groupie trying to trap my-” He cuts himself off, breathing through his nose. “He said she was just a slut looking for a payday.”

Silence.

For a long moment, no one says anything.

Matthews shifts uncomfortably. “That’s… unfortunate, but-”

I straighten. “Unfortunate?”

He clears his throat. “It doesn’t excuse-”

I cut him off. “Are you really about to stand there and tell me my son was just supposed to sit there and take it? That he was supposed to listen to some punk trash-talk his mother and do nothing?”

Matthews exhales. “Violence is not tolerated here.”

“Neither is fucking slander.”

The other kid’s face burns red, and I shoot him a glare before turning back to Matthews.

“If you think I’m letting you expel my son for defending his mother while letting him walk away with a slap on the wrist, you’re out of your damn mind.”

Matthews rubs his temple like I’m giving him a migraine. “Ms. Callahan, I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”

“No, you don’t understand.” My voice is steel.

“You’re not kicking Kingston out over this. If you try, I’ll take this entire school board hell and back for protecting a kid who thinks he can say whatever the fuck he wants and hide behind school policy.”

The room is dead silent.

Then Matthews sighs. “What exactly do you want?”

I cross my arms. “You’re calling his mother. Now.”

The other kid visibly pales.

Good.

Matthews looks like he wants to argue, but instead, he reaches for the phone. I watch as he dials the number, his voice tight when he explains why she needs to come in.

Twenty minutes later, she storms into the office-a woman with the same smirk as her son. But that smirk vanishes when she hears exactly what came out of his mouth.

She shoots her kid a glare that could melt concrete.

I smirk.

In the end, both boys get suspended for five days.

The second we step out of the office, Kingston exhales. “You’re pissed.”

“Damn right I am,” I say, leading him to the car. “But I’m also proud of you.”

He glances at me, surprised. “Yeah?”

I sigh. “Kingston, I would’ve done the exact same thing.” I slide into the driver’s seat. “You
don’t let anyone talk about your family like that. But next time?”

I glance at his bruised hands. “Try not to get caught.”

Kingston chuckles, shaking his head. “Noted.”

I pull out of the parking lot, already dreading explaining this to Uncle Lane. But one thing is for sure-this isn’t over.