Page 267 of Primal

The door creaks. Both men jerk upright like I caught them mid-handjob.

“Zone’s off-limits, Ghostface.” Neck Tat cranes his neck. “Wait, are you #13?”

“Nah,” I rasp through the modulator. “Trevor here. Sector Three’s in aftercare cooldown. Tagged two. Both safeworded.” I lift one hand and flick imaginary sweat off my forehead. “Apparently, ‘Daddy’ went too hard.”

Neck Tat cackles. “Shit. You made ’em tap out?”

“Back-to-back.” I shrug like I’m embarrassed. “Figured I’d take a breather. Hydrate. Maybe fondle your thermostat.” I gesture at the monitors. “Anyway. Thought I just saw a glitch. Better fix it before the next crybaby starts yelling about trauma.”

They frown at each other. I can practically hear their remaining brain cells clinking like rocks in a cup.

“Yeah …” Sandwich Guy squints at the monitors. “Camera 9’s been acting weird.”

“Mind if I take a look?” I lean in, close enough to make him shift. “Won’t touch your porn folder. Unless it’s good.”

Neck Tat snorts and gestures at the keyboard. “Knock yourself out, man. But if there’s any issue, you’re gonna have to radio Tech. We’re not supposed to—”

I’m already scanning feeds. “Lost a prey earlier. Little redhead. She’s real creative with her safe word.”

Neck Tat spins in his chair. “Oh, the cute one in Sector 3? Last clean feed we got was her and Ghostface going at it around ten-thirty. Looked pretty into it.”

That was me.

Sandwich Guy leans over with his fossilized lunch in hand. “What’s her safe word? ‘Daddy, please?’”

“‘Banana split,’” I mutter, half-focused, half-lying through my teeth. “Then she projectile vomited like the fucking Exorcist.”

Neck Tat chokes on a laugh. “Jesus. We screening these people at all or just handing out tags like Coachella?”

I don’t answer. My fingers work fast, bypassing the toy-town security with a few strokes. Every group has a GPS tag log—prey, hunter, boundaries. Most of it’s redacted, but I’m not looking for rules.

I’m looking for her.

I pull up system logs. If someone’s doctoring the footage, they’re not just hiding bodies. They’re directing the goddamn show.

The truth glows red:

> FEED_OVERRIDE ACTIVE

> USER: SYSTEM

> DURATION: 69 min

The keyboard sticks—syrup-slow.

Behind me, Sandwich Guy pipes up. “So, your girlfriend’s still doing OnlyFans?”

“Sure,” Neck Tat says, voice flat like he’s naming a brand of cheap beer. “Upped her subscription tier, too.”

I tab into the hunter database, filtering by groups.

#7 - Trevor Meeks — *Sector 3 / ACTIVE*

Gear: User-supplied Ghostface mask, user-supplied combat knife

*Notes: INJURY REPORTED 21:39—Minor laceration. Resumed hunt.*

#12 - Lucas Pryce — *Sector 3 / ACTIVE*