Page 265 of Primal

I’m still wrapped around Ghostface when he reels backward—right into a goddamn tree. Pain shoots up my spine. My grip loosens. I slide down, gasping.

He spins toward me, knife in hand.

“Hey, fuckface.”

He turns from me—to Lana.

She staggers away from the tree, swaying on her feet. But she squares up anyway, fists raised.

Ghostface tilts his head. And charges.

His shoulder crashes into her first—his arm following fast.

Lana’s hand flies to her stomach. “Oh …”

Just that. Oh.

Ghostface pulls back. Knife gleaming.

He stabbed her.

He fucking stabbed Lana.

She collapses. Blood on her fingers. Dark. Almost black.

I skid to her side. My knees hit dirt. My hand hovers over the wound. “No, no, no—”

Lana grabs my wrist. “Listen. You run. Don’t look back. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“You have to,” she whispers. “Promise me, P.”

I’m sobbing now. “Lana, no. Get up. Please—get up.”

“Promise you’ll … find Kristy.”

All I manage is a small, useless nod.

Ghostface takes a step toward us.

Lana’s gaze locks onto mine. A wet exhale, more blood than breath. “Go.”

Then she lurches to her feet and launches herself at him.

He shoves her off.

She drops—

“Lana!”

—and pulls herself up again, just enough to cling to his legs.

He kicks—once, twice.

But she still holds on. Still buying me time.

“LANA.” Her name rips from my throat.