Page 142 of Primal

Amanda and Derek turn their backs on Josh.

Gurgling.

Blood.

Seeping into the grooves of the altar.

Wesley’s scream cuts through the chapel—

‘Why do they always run toward the killer?’

I’m back in Lana’s dorm room sophomore year, the two of us tangled under her ratty quilt, her calling every kill before it landed.

Now I know.

You run because standing still means the camera catches everything. Means you see the bloodshot whites of their eyes. The way their fingers twitch even after they’re gone.

Derek wipes his blade clean and taps at the tablet. “What’s next?”

Amanda’s snout tilts as she swipes at the screen. A wet, staticky giggle leaks through her mask.

Derek’s grin is audible. “Knife play. Perfect.”

The words—I didn’t check that one—rot in my throat. What’s the point?

Any protest will only make them double down. They’ll do whatever they want anyway.

“Better make it count then, Pigface.” I shift one leg off the altar. My muscles scream. Who cares? I’m done being a display.

Kade’s grip tightens. “Payton,” he says—low, a warning, a plea.

“Ah, ah,” Derek chides. “Stay where you are.”

Amanda’s balancing a knife on her palm. She offers it to Kade.

Derek watches. Then slowly lifts the gun again—aiming it at Kade.

“Go ahead, Thirteen.” Derek croons. “Show us how much you love her.”

The blade gleams in Kade’s hand. His knife—the one he dropped back in the control room. Cheap but deadly.

He stares at it, at Josh, at the blood. Makes a sound I’ve never heard before—part growl, part sob.

His thumb skims the hilt. Not gripping it. Not yet.

Now the barrel’s leveled at his temple.

And still—Kade doesn’t move.

Any second, the gun will go off and—

“You fucking coward.” My laugh tastes like blood. “You wanted me? Then take me.”

I shove him with one leg—as hard as I can.

He holds the knife. Stares at the blood. The handle. My chest.

“Payton—” he rasps.