Page 68 of Primal

TOUCH HER AND I WILL TEAR YOU APART. PIECE BY FUCKING PIECE.

funny how the tough guy talks when his girl’s on her knees. let’s see if you can back it up.

A map pops up.

your prize → sector 5.

The route burns into my retinas.

still think she’s yours? then hurry up.

i’m almost done.

“You like carving up women?” The keyboard shatters under my fist. “I’ll peel your fucking face off. Make sure you choke on your own blood.”

The two meatheads stumble back. Jaws slack.

tick-tock. i’ll keep her warm.

I slip my mask back on and stalk toward the door, knife still raised.

“Tell Steve I said hi.”

I’m gone before they can choke out a single question.

Out of the security building, across the clearing, straight into the woods. The darkness feels alive—writhing, pulsing. My breaths echo inside the mask, a warped replay of the sounds she made gagging on me.

If only that memory were stuck on repeat. Not this dread curling tight in my chest like I’m already too fucking late. The thought of her—covered in bruises, bite marks … his cum. Her blood.

No.

I sprint uphill through the thicket, wired on nothing but the need to make sure she’s still alive. After that? I don’t give a damn if I walk out of these woods handcuffed and soaked in blood—as long as it’s not hers. I’ll bathe in his spinal fluid if it means her pulse keeps ticking.

Sector 5—that corner of The Verge, wedged between a haunted trail and fake graveyard, is empty. No stragglers, nothing but acres of trees. The closest structure is a decayed cabin with boarded-up windows, more set-dressing than shelter.

There. The old, gnarled tree. The same spot where that grainy infrared image showed her, slumped and still.

My knife rises as I close in.

The shape propped against it is draped in cobwebs. A fucking mannequin—face blank except for the eyes.

Green irises. Long lashes. Like Payton’s, glued into plastic sockets.

Motherfucker.

A sound. Faint.

I whip my head around. Is it the wind or—

No. Someone’s talking.

“Aht-aht. No touchy. You wanna slice ‘n’ dice, at least buy me dinner first.”

I pivot toward it.

“Mm-hmm. You gon’ be gentle? I bruise easy.”

I drag my gaze up. Up.