Page 324 of Primal

“Bet the real reason’s sadder,” he says, casual as ever. “Jerking off to the security feeds. Crying into your vending machine dinner. Corporate never called back, did they?”

I almost laugh. But we all know how that ends when you poke a crazy narcissist with a loaded gun. I tense, waiting for Derek to pull the trigger, blow Kade into next week, and let his body bleed out right next to me.

“Oh, Thirteen. You wish I was that pathetic. But since you’re dying to know …”

Damn. Kade’s baiting Derek. Forcing the guy to monologue like some Bond villain. Buying time. For what?

“I built this place. Not some cheap haunted house bullshit. This. The voice mods. The surveillance matrix. You think that control room runs on magic? That was all me. Every line of code—”

“Code?” Kade mutters. “You’re just a fired IT guy with a God complex.”

Derek laughs. “And you’re just pissed I outplayed you. The system’s built to eat guys like you. Every keystroke, every ping … it all feeds back to me.”

“Yeah. And look how that turned out.”

My nails dig into my own palms.

“Wonder if those two bodies in the control room knew they’d be stuck scrubbing your mess of a backend.”

The snout turns toward Kade, a sound rattling deep in Amanda’s throat—half whine, half wheeze. Yeah, he’s not just riling Derek up—he’s baiting the bitch hog with a taser.

Derek scoffs. “Those clueless monkeys didn’t deserve my work. They thought it was all fun and games. Sure, year one, year two—maybe. Chase your prey, tie ’em up, get your rocks off with a safe word and a waiver. The rich got to feel dangerous. The prey got to feel wanted.”

Kade raises a lazy eyebrow. “And you got greedy?”

If he doesn’t stop poking, we might as well all get cozy while we watch him fast-track himself into a body bag.

“Me? Nah. The VIPs wanted more. They started asking for longer chases. Rougher handling. No limits zone. And guess what? Once that switch flipped, they never looked back.”

That laugh again. Pigface joins in.

Amanda is equally sick, only with worse accessorizing.

“The first death was an ‘accident.’” Derek air-quotes. “Breath play gone too far. I watched the clip that night. The way she gasped. The moment life left her eyes. That’s when I realized—everybody lies. The owners. The prey. The waivers.”

“But a real scream?” He draws a long inhale, hand drifting to his crotch. “Oh, yeah. That’s honest.”

Gross. Just when I think the asshole can’t get any more demented …

“Seven figures to bury it,” Derek continues, flicking his knife toward the security monitors. “Turns out, once you let monsters play, they don’t stop. Year Four? Three more ‘accidents.’ A broken neck. An ‘overdose.’ A girl who ‘got lost’ in the woods.”

Kristy’s vibrating beside me.

“They told you to wipe the footage,” Kade says. “You sold the uncut version on the dark web instead. They fired you for stealing. That’s your sob story.”

Derek straightens, body stiff. Kade nailed it.

Amanda steps forward, boots clicking on stone.

I slide my bound hands over Kristy. Grip the antler tine—whatever good that will do against a taser.

But then Derek chuckles. Not that egotistical asshole cackle. A broken sound that belongs behind a locked cell. “My sob story? Nah. This is my truth. They stole my tech. My code. Discarded me like garbage.”

Kristy cuts in. “It’s not our fault. We don’t owe you shit.”

I swallow a groan. Do these two have a death wish?

Derek leans in until his mask almost kisses Kristy’s nose. “Don’t act like you didn’t tick every box—especially the ones that make you wet.”