Page 363 of Primal

I grab a thick branch from the ground. Heavy enough to hurt.

“God, I missed this.” Lana tips her head to the sky. Smiles. “The three of us.”

“Not like this,” Kristy sobs. “Lana, please. This isn’t you.”

Lana stills. Her smile fades. “You don’t fucking know me.”

I’m moving before she charges—she gets to Kristy first.

The blade sinks in.

I crash into Lana sideways, screaming, swinging the branch.

She grunts. Claws at my hoodie. Laughs through her fucking teeth.

We tumble into the mud. Lana straddling me—a mockery of a position we both thought she was too classy for.

My hands find her shoulders.

“I should’ve let Derek kill you.” She raises the knife. Drives it to my throat.

I freeze, a sob caught halfway out.

Nothing. It’s jammed. Packed with mud.

I claw at her again. “You made me perform, you fucking bitch.”

My nails rake down her arm.

A ragged hiss. “And you didn’t disappoint.” Her breath ghosts across my lips. “Turns out, you’re just like me.”

“I’m nothing like you.” I slam my forehead into her nose.

crunch.

Her head snaps back. Blood gushing. She clutches her face, knife raised.

Two fingers into that antler wound and her scream rips through the storm.

She bucks.

I shove hard, roll her. My knees slam into the muck, pinning her down.

snick.

The blade’s free.

I clutch her wrist with both hands.

We grapple.

Knife to my face. To her chest. Up again, shaking between us.

Lana stares up at me, panting. “You’re my best friend, P.”

“And you were mine.” I ram the blade down.

A gasp.