Page 147 of Primal

“Fine. Fine.” Kristy huffs, scrolling again. “Okay, no sad movies, no rom-coms. What about Zombieland? The apocalypse feels relatable.”

Lana traces her glass. “I’ve always liked zombies. Predictable. Honest about what they want.”

“Yeah. Brains.” Kristy mimes a chomp.

Lana swirls her wine, watching the legs slide down.

I nudge her. “You okay?”

“It’s just exhausting trying to please everyone sometimes. Pretty sure that headache before Sunday dinner is the only thing I don’t fake.”

“That’s the Chardonnay talking.”

“Nah,” Lana says softly. “That’s the ‘me’ they’d send to therapy.”

I wince. “That bad?”

“Worse. But I’ve found … outlets.”

“You mean that guy?” Kristy teases.

“Krav Maga.” Lana flexes her hand. “Turns out I’ve got a killer right hook.”

“Wow. Self-defense classes, huh?” Kristy grins. “Does this mean I finally get to see you in those tiny MMA shorts?”

Lana flicks a pistachio shell at her. “I wear sweats, you degenerate.”

“Yeah, you own, like, four silk blouses and a skirt that legally qualifies as a belt.” Kristy turns to me. “Remember when she wore heels to that frat party sophomore year?”

“The mud pit incident,” I deadpan.

Lana scoffs and sips her wine. “Enough about me. Can we get back to the actual crisis here?”

“Right, right.” Kristy giggles and turns to me. “You need a distraction, babe. Something so good it kicks the heartbreak right out of your spine.”

“I don’t need a distraction. I need a lobotomy. Or his balls in a blender.”

“Oh, come on.” Kristy slings an arm around my shoulder. “Time to reclaim Slut-O-Ween. Let’s do something fun.”

“Mmm …” Lana sets down her glass. “I can’t. Already got plans.”

Kristy shoots her a knowing look. “Oooh. A date with Mr. Teaches-You-Things?”

“More like a date with many.”

“Sounds like either an orgy or a cult.”

Lana’s smile is lazy, secretive. “Maybe both.”

“Details … now.” I throw a pillow at her.

She snatches it mid-air. “Fine. There’s this place. The Verge.”

Kristy frowns. “What, like a bar?”

“Nah. It’s a place out in the woods. Most of the year it’s low-key. Kink retreats, bondage bootcamps. But Halloween? That’s when the Hunt happens.”

I blink. “The what?”