Page 51 of Primal

What the fuck? She had 10% battery left last I checked.

I slam the tracker. No blip. No ping.

Someone’s jamming me.

I yank out a repeater from the hidden pocket in my jeans. Compact guts. Matte-black casing. Fat as a phone but does the job.

I flip the switch. It hums low, working its ass off to cut through the static.

The LED flickers—one weak pulse, like a dying heartbeat, then—

Gone.

The jammer’s military-grade. Solid. Unbreakable.

And now I’m blind.

Chapter Ten

110 BPM.

Last number I got before the world flatlined. No coordinates. No pulse.

My reflection blurs in the glass. Maybe if I stare long enough, I’ll catch her heartbeat. Maybe I’ll see—

Nothing. Just the monster who let her slip away.

Should’ve dragged her back to my car kicking and screaming.

Should’ve locked her in my basement—safe from everyone but me.

Where she’d be mine. Only mine.

Instead, I played this fucking game.

Now she’s out there with a Ghostface who gutted that pretty boy like a fish.

He has her. Or he’s hunting her.

Maybe he’s already finished.

In her.

With her.

Every shadow could be Payton—running, laughing, dying—and I wouldn’t know until I taste her blood in the wind.

I shake the watch. Slam it against my thigh. Useless. Just glass and circuitry. An open grave.

My fist meets the tree. Wood cracks. Splinters bury deep. I lick my knuckles. Burn tastes like copper. Pine. Her.

The air’s electric. Storm coming.

Fuck it.

I’ll find her the way predators do.

I’ll peel back every shadow in this forest. Until the earth itself gives her back.