Page 325 of Primal

Kristy’s throat works. She holds Derek’s stare.

“Then again, you’re right, Cupcake,” he croons. “You owe me nothing. But you do owe the audience something.”

He straightens, waving his knife in a wide arc. “Every single one of you. This year, we unmask the real monster. What better way to introduce The Verge than with a killer climax?”

“With my fucking masterpiece …” He kicks the pew where Mia and Noah’s corpses are propped.

The party hat wobbles. Slides off Noah’s head and lands in Mia’s lap.

“With all your filthy little wishes granted. Gonna put this place on the map.”

Amanda makes a noise behind her mask—the kind you’d expect in bed, not surrounded by corpses.

“You’ll never get away,” Kade growls.

Derek clicks his tongue. “You think the owners will admit their pay-to-prey forest turned into a murder spree?”

Pigface clomps down the aisle and leans into Derek’s side like a prized pet. “Even if they try, they’ll have no evidence.”

“Exactly. The only proof is what I choose to show. And tonight, I’m giving the world the director’s cut. Cue the music, Dollface.” Derek plants a kiss on her snout.

I nearly gag.

Amanda strides to the altar and taps the tablet.

That remix from earlier when the hunters first appeared blares through the speakers—Halsey crashing into Elley Duhé.

Full fucking circle.

“Let’s cut to the crowd favorite.”

Derek steps back, gesturing at the college girls with his knife. Chloe and her friend have both gone quiet—almost comatose if not for their wide eyes and silent tears tracking down their faces.

“Actually …” He turns sharply. “Thirteen and …”

Steel glints in my vision.

“—Thirty-one. Perfect.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

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

Fuck knows I’m stalling. Payton’s probably on her third worst-case scenario by now—calculating the odds of jamming that antler shiv into Pigface’s throat before Derek puts a bullet in her skull.

The guy launches into his villain speech while I’m sitting here, thigh pressed to Payton’s, sweat and blood crusting on my skin, playing at being weaker than I am.

She doesn’t know how close I came though. The bullet which killed Noah would’ve taken my head off if I hadn’t dodged.

My ribs scream every time I breathe.

But pain’s merely noise. I’ve been counting Derek’s steps, Pigface’s tells, the exact distance to that scythe near the altar—because when this goes down, I only need one opening.

For now? I let my shoulders slump. Let Derek think I’m half-dead already.

I shift, just enough to brush Payton’s arm. A signal. I’m still here. Still counting.

What’s the alternative? A zip-tied suicide charge? Yeah, that’d end with my brains on the pews—and Payton’s throat slit before I hit the ground.