Page 152 of Primal

“Retractable,” she says, wagging the hilt. “Dual-function. Stage magic meets practical use. Handy, right?”

She grins at Payton. “Corn syrup in squib packs—same shit they use on holiday murder mysteries. Dark woods, stellar acting … and you were always such a screamer.”

A glance at Derek. “He had to choke me harder just to keep me from laughing.”

Payton’s throat works. “You—”

“I what?” Lana’s smile widens. “Let you play the ‘final girl’? Gave you a chance to finally ride your neighbor’s dick?” She flicks the cock piercing with one finger, and Payton flinches like she’s been slapped. “Shame your guy can only bleed. At least Pigface put up a fight.”

“What’d you do to Amanda?” Payton rasps. “You took her boots.”

Lana glances down, flexing her foot. “They look better on me, don’t you think?”

“What the fuck, Lana?” Kristy yells from the pew. “Is he making you do this?”

Lana angles her head toward Kristy. “Oh, no. I chose this. All of it.”

“You chose to slaughter people?” Payton spits out. “To fuck with us?”

“I graduated top of my class. Smiled through every brunch while they asked why I couldn’t be more like Elise—AmLaw cover story, thanks for asking. Or Ryan. He’s hosting ethics panels between affairs, by the way. Or even the baby of the family. Liam. Two Harvard degrees and a coke habit no one mentions.”

Lana tests the knife’s edge with her thumb. “Years wearing a mask, and you know what happens? You forget where your skin ends and the performance begins.”

She points the blade at Payton. “You got to be a mess. Kristy got to be a mess. I made one mistake and got ‘tarnishing your future’ lectures. So I kept polishing it. Kept sanding myself down.”

A glance at Derek. “Then I met him. Two years ago.”

“Jesus fuck, Lana,” Kristy shrieks. “H-he was the guy who taught you things?”

“He got me, you know? Like, really got me. Figured out who I was before I did. Tonight was a fucking blast. Right, babe?”

Derek chuckles low. “You were born for this, Dollface.”

“He’s a psycho,” Payton snaps. “Can’t you see he’s using you?”

“Using me?” Lana echoes, quiet, amused. “Oh, P, he’s the first person who didn’t.”

She steps closer. “The only thing he wanted was honesty.” The knife flicks toward the altar. “And this? This was a study. Of what people become when they’re hunted. When they’re finally free.”

A wry smile. “You want to talk about ‘psycho’? You live next door to one.”

The knife. The altar. Payton coming apart underneath me.

Now this bitch is weaponizing it.

My jaw tightens. Blood wells fresh between my fingers. The pain’s the only thing keeping me from charging Derek’s gun just to wipe that smirk off her face.

She presses the knife under Payton’s chin, forcing her to look at me. “He stalked you here, P. That doesn’t worry you? The neighbor who couldn’t keep his distance—just happened to show up in the middle of this?”

Payton’s mouth opens then shuts. She probably already figured it out.

The bitch isn’t wrong. I did stalk Payton. I followed her here. I’d fucking do it all over again.

“So what? You’re gonna kill us all now?” Payton murmurs.

“This was your game the whole time?” Kristy hollers. “Our fucking girls’ night was bait?”

“Oh, no.” Lana’s smirk widens. “I told you I had plans. You both wanted to tag along. I even warned you things could get … intense.” The knife tip traces Payton’s jawline. “‘I want intense.’ That’s what you said. Remember?”