Page 118 of Primal

His thumb skates across my knuckles.

That gun came so close to splitting his skull open.

I hook my pinky around his—a promise. A fuck-you to fate. Or just a crazy plan wrapped in hope.

God knows how we can pull it off with a shiv antler versus tasers, knives, and guns. Maybe we simply need a distraction.

Wesley can punch Derek in the dick. Chloe can hurl her party hat at Pigface.

Whatever works.

I let myself imagine that escape. The moment we blast through those doors—the college girls, Wesley and his friend, Kristy beside me and Kade right behind—the seven of us flipping Derek and Amanda the bird as we tear through the woods.

Maybe we run so fast the past can’t catch us.

Maybe this whole place explodes, and we get to watch it burn.

Maybe we get to live.

I can almost taste the cold air, see our breath fog as we sprint—

Next to me, Kristy’s leg bounces. She doesn’t believe in fairytales. Thinks even virgins should die in horror movies. Probably wondering how to make good use of that antler.

Me? I’d jab it into Amanda—an eye for an eye.

“Time’s up.” Derek’s voice booms through the chapel even without a mic. “Now, who’s ready to make a mess?”

Pigface—Amanda—drags two tripods into place, both already loaded with cameras.

“Come on now. Don’t make me choose again.”

Derek hops onto the altar, grinning under that stupid Ghostface mask for sure.

“Eenie …” The knife points at Chloe. “Meenie …” Swings to the other college girl—the brunette whose name I never caught. “Miney …”

His mask swivels to Kristy.

My stomach twists. Not Kristy. Please not—

Derek steps forward. Boot scuffing stone. The knife swings lazily at his side. Those black eyeholes land on me.

Not me either, you sadistic fuck.

Two more steps. He pivots, blade whipping up between the college girls.

“Which one of you wants to be the next viral clip?” A pause. The knife tilts toward Chloe, then her friend. “Tell you what … let’s make it a sorority double-feature.”

“Why are you doing this?” Kristy snaps.

Derek lowers the knife. “Finally. A little audience participation.”

He turns toward us. “You want the short slice or full carving? Either way, it’s a killer show.”

Kristy’s fingers twitch toward her pocket. “Just cut the bullshit and tell us why.”

Derek’s mask tilts, slow—a predator deciding whether to play with its food. “Why? You paid for this. I’m providing the service.”

“That’s your big villain speech?” Kade says flatly. “No wonder they replaced you with a fucking chatbot.”