Chapter 16 #3
He stopped a few feet away, his head tilted at that odd angle. For a moment, he just stared at us, his face slack and empty.
Then he laughed.
It wasn't the high-pitched, childlike giggle I'd heard from him before.
This was low and knowing, a sound that made my skin crawl.
His whole demeanor changed, the vacant expression melting away like a mask being peeled off.
His eyes sharpened, focused, intelligent in a way that made my stomach drop.
"Go home?" he repeated, his voice completely different now—clear, articulate, the words perfectly formed. "Not yet."
The uneven gait straightened. The slouched shoulders squared. He stood there looking at me with a calculating expression that had nothing to do with brain damage or childlike innocence. This was the look of a predator sizing up its prey.
"Oh God," I breathed, realization spinning through my brain. "You're not—you were never—"
"Handicapped?" He smiled, and it was the coldest thing I'd ever seen. "Oh, I had my head caved in on Theta-9, and it took me a while to recover. The Garoot Healer helped too. But it's amazing what people will overlook when they think you're too stupid to be a threat."
"Why?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. I moved slowly, like I was facing a wild animal, putting myself more fully between Peanut and my son. "Why would you pretend?"
His broad shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. "It made Charlene happy. Charlene always has to be happy."
Something snapped inside me—all the fear, all the confusion crystallizing into pure, white-hot rage.
"You son of a bitch!" I hissed, stepping forward and delivering a resounding smack across his cheek. "You scared my son! You made him think—you made us all think—" I drew back to slap him again.
Peanut caught my wrist easily, holding me at arm's length. "Had to happen. Charlene needs to be happy."
"Let go of my mama!" Teddy's voice cracked behind me, high and desperate.
"It's okay, baby, stay back—" I tried to wrench free, but his grip was iron.
"You know what else had to happen?" Peanut's eyes locked on mine, and there was something almost gleeful in them. "The fire."
My blood turned to ice. "What?"
"I set it," he said simply, matter-of-factly. "Would've worked too, if that peacekeeper hadn't been so close by."
The world tilted. "You—you tried to—Why?" The word came out as a sob.
His expression shifted, something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because Charlene wants Cristox." He shook his head. "You have to go away so my sister can have him. Simple as that."
"Simple?" I choked out, disbelief and horror warring in my voice. "You tried to murder us because your sister has a crush?"
"Not a crush," he corrected patiently. "When Charlene wants something, she gets it.
That's how it's always been. Once when I was little, my dad gave me a toy—a red firetruck with working wheels and a little driver inside.
Charlene wanted it. Dad never gave her toys, only me.
When I refused to hand it over, she grabbed me by the arm, shoved me to the ground, and snatched the toy right out of my hands.
I scraped my knees and cried all night, wanting my toy back.
I thought my dad would take it back from her.
But he whipped me for crying and said Charlene was more of a man than I'd ever be.”
Listening to his tale, I realized there was a strange family dynamic between Peanut and Charlene—some dysfunction that had shaped his mindset long before the head injury. Whatever happened in Peanut's childhood had made him capable of violence—of murder.
My mind reeled, pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. "Craig," I whispered. "Oh God, Craig. Did you—"
"Had to." No hesitation, no remorse. Just a cold, simple fact.
"He found out I tried to steal moonshine from Clemon Peters.
I was going to use that to set the fire, you know?
But Clemon almost caught me and told Craig, so he started asking questions.
I had to switch to shuttle fuel instead. It was harder to get."
"You killed him." The certainty settled in my bones like lead weights.
"He was going to tell Charlene. I couldn't have that." Peanut's grip on my wrists tightened, grinding the bones together. "And then Clemon started running his mouth, telling people he saw me trying to steal moonshine. So I killed him too. Loose ends. Can't leave loose ends."
Loose ends. That's what we were now—me and Teddy. He'd just confessed to two murders, and we were the only witnesses.
"You're going to kill us," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Peanut's silence was answer enough.
Everything slowed down, crystallizing into sharp focus. Teddy standing behind me. Peanut's hands on my wrist. The darkness closing in around us. I had one chance. One moment to save my son.
"RUN, TEDDY!" I screamed and threw my entire body weight forward into Peanut.
He stumbled back, surprised, his grip loosening just enough for me to wrench free. I heard Teddy's footsteps behind me, scrambling, the sound of small feet on grass.
"Go, baby, go!" I shouted, spinning to see him dart past.
But Peanut was faster than I expected. His arm shot out and caught Teddy by the shoulder, shoving him hard. Teddy hit the ground with a sickening thud that made my heart stop.
"No!" I lunged for them, but Peanut was already turning back to me.
Teddy had pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, dirt smeared across his face. He opened his mouth and from his small chest came a roar, not a scream, not a cry, but a roar. Deep and guttural and fierce. The sound of a Stranac warrior, primal and defiant.
My little boy, my baby, roaring like his father.
The sound gave me strength I didn't know I possessed. I launched myself at Peanut again, clawing, scratching, anything to keep him away from Teddy. My nails raked across his face, drawing blood.
"Run!" I screamed again, my voice raw. "Teddy, run!"
Peanut caught me mid-lunge, his massive hands closing around my throat like a vise. The air cut off instantly. I clawed at his fingers, kicked at his legs, but he was so much bigger, so much stronger. My feet barely touched the ground.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. My lungs screamed for air that wouldn't come. I could hear Teddy crying somewhere behind us, and I wanted to tell him to run, to get away, to find his father, but no sound would come. Black spots danced at the edge of my vision.
My hands fell away from Peanut's wrists, too weak to fight anymore. The world was fading, going soft and distant.
CRACK!
The sound was sharp and final, like a tree snapping in two.
Peanut's hands went slack around my throat. His body crumpled, falling away from me, his head twisted at an impossible angle. His eyes were still open, but empty now—truly empty.
I gasped, air flooding back into my lungs in painful, desperate gulps. Strong arms caught me before I could hit the ground, pulling me against a broad chest.
"Ruby." Cristox's voice was rough, shaking. "I've got you. You're safe."
I collapsed against him, my whole body trembling, tears streaming down my face as I tried to breathe, tried to process that I was alive, that he was here, that the nightmare was over.
"Teddy," I choked out, my voice a ragged whisper.
“Mama!" Teddy's small voice came from behind Cristox, and then he was there too, throwing his arms around both of us.
Cristox held us both, one powerful arm around me, the other pulling Teddy close, his touch infinitely gentle despite the violence he'd just committed to save us.
"You're safe now," he murmured against my hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Both of you. I've got you."
I held my son tight and buried my face against my mate's chest, knowing he spoke the truth. I was safe. I was protected. I was loved.