Page 101 of Primal

The promise in those words—after—hits harder than any drug.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, little fox.” Her palm to my chest. “Feel that? Only you get it racing like this.”

Her eyes flash with something. Then she pulls her hand back like she’s been caught stealing.

“Good. Stay focused on that instead of actually dying.” She tightens the knot.

My shoulder screams, pain shredding the last of the drug haze. No more dead bitch yakking in my ear. Just the knife in my grip and the girl I’d follow to hell to drag her back.

For all we know, the bastard already has Kristy strung up like a fucking piñata, using her screams as bait.

Smart play? Circle back. Find weapons. Come back armed with something other than my $29.99 Halloween Special.

But I gave up ‘smart’ the moment I let Payton Reed under my skin.

“Kade …”

I follow her gaze. There—bolted to a pine trunk, fifteen feet up. A red recording light blinks down at us.

I give it the bird.

Another camera swivels left, then right. But there—behind the maintenance shed, a dead zone where the coverage overlaps but doesn’t quite meet. I pull Payton into the blind spot.

The security building squats in the clearing, windows dark. I scan the exterior. No movement. Too quiet.

“He wants us to rush in,” I mutter. Like every dumbass who follows a scream straight into the meat grinder.

Payton crouches beside me, her knee brushing mine. The contact sends an unwelcome jolt up my thigh. She checks her watch. “Twelve minutes left. So what do we do?”

“We outthink him.”

Her laugh is all frayed nerves. “You? Thinking?”

I knock my boot against hers.

Three exits. Front and back plus roof access. All three probably rigged. Derek’s got every advantage—cameras, high ground, home turf.

But arrogant pricks always make mistakes.

I point to the roof. “You climb. Draw his eyes. I go low.”

“Are you kidding?” She thrusts her elbow at me. “See this? That fence chewed me up earlier. Pretty sure I left a layer of skin back there.”

I catch her arm. Kiss the scrape—light, quick, too gentle. “There. Magic fix. Happy now, princess?”

She goes still. Stares at the spot where my mask touched.

“Don’t,” she whispers. “Don’t be sweet to me right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I might believe you.”

My chest tightens. I trace her pulse with my thumb. “Then stay alive long enough for me to prove it.”

Her watch beeps. 2:31 am.

“New plan,” I growl. “We give him what he wants.”