Page 112 of Primal

Wet cement in my lungs.

Derek stumbles back, one hand flying to his mask. The plastic’s cracked, revealing his real eye. His laugh starts like a rasping wheeze, building into something unhinged. Pure fucking delight.

“Oh, Mia,” he croons. The knife slides into his hand—no flourish. “Should’ve taken the gag.”

She hocks a second gob at him. “Go to hell.”

Derek drags a gloved thumb through the mess. Inches back as Pigface moves in.

The thing snatches the jagged prong off the floor and thrusts it—

The scream that follows tears through me.

Move. Look away. Do something.

Shouts erupt. Beside me. Behind me.

I’m stuck underwater. Bile rises up my throat.

Mia is still wailing, blood sheeting down her face.

Make it stop. God, make it stop.

Derek clucks his tongue, stepping in to adjust Pigface’s angle. “Twist,” he murmurs, guiding the motion. “There. Feel that give? That’s how you know you’ve done it right.”

A wet crunch. Mia’s back bows off the chair.

Then he replaces the antler in Pigface’s grip with his knife, guides the blade to Mia’s throat.

The cut isn’t clean. It’s a sawing motion.

My brain tries to lift me out of this—somewhere, anywhere else—but the sound pins me here. Real. Wet. Unending.

Mia gurgles. Blood slides down in thick ropes, soaking into her forest ranger top. Her mouth works—shaping words I can’t catch. Her remaining eye darts wildly before locking onto mine. Not scared. Furious.

Derek watches with his head cocked, the way I used to study goldfish at Pet Mart.

At last, Mia’s kicks slow to twitches.

Derek wipes the blade clean on her shoulder. Peels his mask off. Pigface hands him a new one.

“Gonna have to edit this out. Shame. We were doing great.”

Vomit blasts up my throat. Kristy retches beside me. Pigface tilts its head then plops party hats on the sobbing college girls.

“Fuck this shit.” Jason—Noah—is moving before the words die—stumbling, lurching, legs remembering they’re still alive.

My muscles snap tight. I whirl to Kristy. “Run.”

I’m on my feet before I think, zip-tied hands scraping the pew. If he makes it—if he gets help—if he—

Pigface darts after him. Noah’s almost to the doors when—

snap-hiss.

Taser prongs punch into his back. His body locks, spine bowing before he faceplants. A tooth skates across stone.

“Move, you fucks—” Wesley roars, surging up.