Page 387 of Primal

Fuck. Every part of me prickles under her stare. I must look like some damn wounded thing.

Meanwhile, she’s still fucking gorgeous in that effortless way. Shoulder-length hair loose, pushed behind one ear. Dark jeans. Fitted tank. Eyes just the right side of bloodshot.

Max backs up the stairs, smirking. Little shit knows exactly what this is. “Cool. I’ll, uh … go eat Oreos in peace.”

She gives him a tight smile, watching him bound away before turning back.

“Hey, stranger. You look like hell. How do you feel?”

The old me would fire back, maybe offer her a smirk.

“Been worse,” I say flatly, ignoring the twist in my gut.

“Well, um. This is for you.”

I take the box from her and head back inside. Leave or follow, the choice is hers.

The door snicks closed behind me. No footsteps yet. But my skin’s too tight and the air’s full of her.

If she came to tell me goodbye, I can do her one last favor.

Let her go.

“Open it,” she says behind me.

I place the box on the desk and peel back the cardboard flaps.

Cameras. The ones I installed everywhere at her place. Wires coiled, lenses dark. Dead now. Just parts.

But I remember what they saw. What I saw.

“I believe these are yours.”

“They are.”

Her gaze sweeps over the rest of the basement—bare mattress, unwashed sheets, computers, the makeshift gym where I fought my daily battles.

The old me would’ve devoured this.

Her. Down here. In my den.

Where she should’ve been all along—safe from the world and completely fucking mine. I’d have chained her and shown her all the ways I can ruin her—the kind of worship that leaves marks.

Now all I want is to sink into that mattress and will the pills to do their fucking job.

“You doing okay?”

“Peachy.” I roll my shoulders, hoping she takes the hint.

And she does.

That’s it. She’ll vanish. I’ll go back to playing corpse until I’m nothing but a stain no one scrubs out. We’ll both go on pretending none of it meant a damn thing.

She stops near the door and turns. “What?”

What can I say? That she was the reason I didn’t die? That I can still smell her on me and it’ll never fade? Could even swear I’d never tell a soul. That what we did in the chapel stays sealed between me and the ghosts.

Instead, I shrug. “I didn’t say anything.”