Page 285 of Primal

The trees blur. Stars gutter out. My heart kicks—one last fuck you.

If I get up, I’m skinning that pig.

Chapter Seventeen

Kristy tears ahead, neon shorts flashing like a rave ghost, our breaths tangled in a panicked chorus of ohgodohgodohgod.

She stops—so sudden I nearly crash right into her.

Her shoulders shake.

Crying?

No.

Laughing. Sharp. High. Wrong.

I grab her shoulder. “Hey.”

She folds in on herself. Elbows digging into her thighs.

“Kristy, breathe.”

“F-fuck—” A shuddering gasp. “Fuck, we’re dead.”

I place a hand on her back. “We’re not.”

“Lana’s dead.” Her voice cracks. “Vanessa’s dead.” A giggle bubbles up. “And we’re next—hiding behind fucking poop shacks—”

A branch snaps in the dark.

We duck lower behind the plastic walls.

Kristy kills the flashlight on her phone.

Footsteps crunch through dead leaves.

Closer.

Closer.

Then—

A shape stumbles into the clearing.

Tall. Shirtless. Neon body paint snaking across his chest in the same dizzying swirls they all wear.

Staggering like he’s drunk.

Or dying.

And tucked under his arm is a Ghostface mask.

“Psycho little bitches,” he rasps, voice raw.

Kade.

Kristy squeezes my arm—a silent ‘What the fuck?’