Page 39 of Primal

I pass her a chilled towel. “Here.”

She whispers a soft, “Thanks,” and dabs at her face with it. “I saw your friend near the creek with that guy. The one with …” She mimes snapping her teeth. “Pigface.”

“Lana,” Kristy and I say at the same time.

Amanda nods. “She was laughing when he caught her. Not normal laughing. Scary laughing.”

I flick a leaf from her hair. “Sounds like you wandered into their zone. Good thing you made it out before it’s too late. That’s the no-limits group.”

Kristy shoots me a look—eyebrow arched, lips twitching.

“I was hiding behind this big log,” Amanda mumbles, wiping her cheek. “And one of them saw me. Just stared. I thought he was gonna lunge—but then he left. Think I disappointed him. God, I hate this place. I hate running. And I hate”—she glares at her reflection—“whatever this is.”

Kristy bites back a laugh. “Girl, if you hate it so much, why’d you even come?”

Amanda groans, pressing the towel to her face. “Lost a bet with my co-workers. They said it’d be fun. Like, ha-ha bonding fun. I think they hate me.”

“Aww, it can be fun.” I lean against the vanity, arms folded. “You gotta let loose, and be like, ‘Come get me, Ghostface.’”

“Yeah, listen to the expert. Payton’s already been through round one.”

Amanda blinks at me. “You did?”

Kristy loops an arm around my shoulders. “Oh, it gets better. One of the Ghostfaces is her neighbor, and he got all feral on the other Ghostface for touching her.”

I toss her a side-eye. Next, she’ll be broadcasting it over the PA system.

Amanda’s jaw drops. “No. Way.”

“So, listen,” Kristy says, swiping Sinful Cherry across Amanda’s lips with all the grace of a war general prepping her troops. “It’s Halloween. And we’re sure as hell gonna get ourselves a Ghostface. There’s plenty to go around.”

“Uhm. I thought it was one hunter per two prey?”

“Exactly. We can share. Unless”—Kristy grins at me—“Payton doesn’t mind sharing hers.”

“He’s not mine. And I don’t even know where he is right now.”

“Probably waiting for you back at the tree.”

“Then I’ll thank him for the cardio and tell him I brought friends,” I deadpan.

Kristy laughs, tugging Amanda off the sink like a half-melted Barbie after a house fire. “C’mon, chin up. Shoulders back. Look like a snack.”

“Yeah,” Amanda murmurs. “Stale granola bar someone left in their glove compartment.”

“That’s the spirit.” I hold the trailer door open.

Kristy steers her toward it. “You’re a goddamn power bar. Now get out there and power-walk your cute little ass into a slasher’s fantasy.”

Amanda peeks outside.

I glance at her bare feet. “Need us to go find you your boots? I know where one of them is, at least. The other must be nearby.”

“It’s fine,” she mumbles.

Kristy pulls out her phone. “Okay, group selfie for the final girls.”

We squeeze together—Amanda with her busted outfit, Kristy with her neon shorts, me with my hoodie strategically hiding the hickey from hell.