Page 120 of Don't Shoot Me Santa
* * **
If this was a lion, its mane was matted, and most of its teeth had fallen out. Blackwell looked less like the composed predator Aaron had imagined and more like one of the rough sleepers he’d left behind at the shelter. Except worse. At least they had dignity.
Gone was the pristine suit and curated charm. In its place, a shrunken Christmas jumper with the charity logo half-pulled at the seams, hair unbrushed and sticking up like static, and stubble creeping over his jawline in uneven tufts. Not the sculpted, sexy kind Kenny pulled off. No, this was more… decomposing substitute teacher.
Not quite the lair Aaron had imagined. Nor even the neatly staged crime scene in his head. But monsters rarely looked the part.
His mother was proof enough of that.
She was the beautyandthe beast.
Blackwell looked up, startled. “Aaron.” He scrambled to straighten the papers on his desk, a pointless gesture that made his hands shake and him look way more guilty.
Aaron stepped inside, leaving the door wide open. He wanted witnesses in case this spiralled into the shitshow he suspected it might. The corridor beyond was quieter than usual, muffled by the snowfall outside. Most had the sense to stay home in a blizzard. Still, he’d seen Jonathon lurking. Heard the dogs barking.
So he crossed the room and dropped into the chair opposite. Chaos settled beside him with a quiet huff, ever alert, ever loyal. Aaron folded his arms and narrowed his eyes in threat.
“You’re a piece of work,” he said, voice flat. Cold enough to burn.
Blackwell raised a hand, tone all placating. “I’d like to apologise—”
“Apologise?” Aaron scoffed. “You want to fucking apologise? There’s no sorry big enough for what you’ve done. What you are.”
“I’m aware I overstepped a mark.”
Aaron barked a bitter laugh. “Overstepped? That’s one hell of a polite little euphemism. What you did was calculated. Manipulative. Predatory. Fucking pathetic.”
“I made a mistake.”
“A mistake.” Venom rode on every syllable. “You made a whole fucking series of mistakes, mate. And the first was thinking you could come anywhere near me. Jesus. You even know who I am and still did it! And fuck, you’ve got a wife and a kid. What about them, eh?”
Blackwell dropped his gaze, shame painting his face. “If it’s any consolation… my wife’s left me.” He motioned limply to the corner of the office. Suitcase, blanket, the fold-out chair he’d clearly been sleeping in.
“Consolation?” Aaron let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “You seriously think that’s meant to make me feel better? What? Your family falling apart is supposed to balance the karmic books?”
Blackwell held up his hands. “Let’s call it… justification, then. And in my defence, I didn’t know you were involved with someone.”
Aaron stared at him for a long, silent beat. Then shook his head, disgust twisting his mouth. “You thinkthat’swhy I’m here? You think this is about you copping a feel in the fucking kennels? That you took one look at me and thought,yeah, he’d be up for a sneaky little boss-boy blowjob between shifts.Thought I’d be flattered. That I’d blush and stammer and thank you for the attention. Like I’m a warm mouth with a name tag.”
He leaned forward, eyes burning.
“Like I don’t have a man at home who does all that andmore? Cause you saw bratty twink and thought no one could love this.” Aaron gestured to himself and let the silence hang, thick and choking, until Blackwell squirmed under it. “You didn’t just misread the room,Blackwell. You built yourself a nice little fantasy, then jammed me into it without asking. And, fuck, you chose the wrong man.”
Blackwell opened his mouth. “I realise that—”
“But that?” Aaron cut in. “That doesn’t even touch the sides.”
Of course it had. Of course it fucking had. And they both knew it. Blackwell had watched him spiral.Enjoyedit, probably. Drank it in as if owed the aftermath. But Aaron wasn’t here to cry victim. He was done bleeding for men like that. He was here to point the finger. To burn the rot out at the root.
Because the truth was that if Kenny hadn’t been there, if Aaron hadn’t clawed his way out…He might’ve ended up curled in the snow beneath a nativity scene too. Another silent, still boy lit by Christmas lights and a predator’s twisted sense of mercy.
“You fooled him, y’know.” Aaron shook his head. “Kenny.Thefucking Dr Kenneth Lyons.MyKenny. Brilliant criminal psychologist. Can read a killer from one footprint and half a heartbeat, but you slipped right past him.”
Blackwell flinched.
“ButIsaw you.” Aaron dipped forward. “Knew what you were. And since you’ve already read my HR file and stalked your way to my address, you know I’m not stupid. Got a degree in forensic psych myself. Top marks. So let’s break you down, shall we?”
He cocked his head, voice twisting into analytical and cold.
