Page 103 of Primal

He twirls his scythe. “What are you doing with this mortal? Your screams were sweeter—”

My blade finds his throat. “Let’s see how you sound when you choke on your own blood.”

Payton grabs my wrist. “He was just playing his role.”

“Yeah? How’s this game then, Grim?” I press harder. A bead of blood wells on his neck. “Three seconds. Tell me why I shouldn’t drape your guts all over these trees.”

Wesley blinks, hands half-raised. “Whoa. Chill, Ghostface. It’s Halloween. We’re all just—”

I lean in. “She’s mine. Breathe near her again, I’ll skin you alive.”

Payton wedges herself between us—her back against my chest. “Listen, you clueless dick.” She jabs a finger at the control room. “The guy’s in there. He killed my friend, Lana. Jessica. Vanessa. Two fucking staff. And Kristy’s next if we don’t move.”

Laughter. He shakes his head. “Still with the killer story, huh? Gotta say, yours is the most original I’ve—”

I knee him in the groin.

He folds like bad origami.

“Kade.” Payton shoves me. “We need him.”

“We need competent help.” I watch the guy wheeze on the ground. “This clown can’t even die right.”

The Reaper—Wesley—lifts his mask completely. Some scarred pretty-boy with a face that makes my knuckles itch. “You’re serious?”

Payton’s watch beeps. She drops into a crouch beside him. “Do I look like I’m acting?”

He groans, eyes flicking between Payton and me. “Fuck. Okay … I’ve got buddies playing Leatherface and Jason. I’ll—”

“No.” I yank Payton to her feet.

He staggers up. “I can help—”

“Help by fucking off.” My knife doesn’t waver. “Round up every player and get them out.”

Wesley hesitates, gaze darting to Payton. “You sure you’re good with this guy?”

“She’s fantastic.” I drag Payton against me, smearing a bloody handprint across her hip. “Aren’t you, little fox?”

That eye roll again. “Wesley, go. Get security. Cops. Anyone who’ll believe this shit.”

The prick backs away slowly. “Yeah. Okay. But uh—” He nods at my mask. “Might wanna lose the serial killer cosplay before the badges show up.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He does.

Payton whirls on me the second he vanishes. “What’s with all that macho bullshit?”

“He’s dumb enough to get us both killed. Besides, how well do you know him? What if he’s got a knife behind his back and a smile that sells it?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Settles for a scowl.

Thought so. I drag her toward the security building. “Now scream like I hurt you.”

“Oh, I will,” she mutters. “Repeatedly. With a bat.”

One second she’s beside me, all grit and glare—the next, she’s gone, her cry shredding the night.