Chapter Twenty-Five
The worst part wasn’t the altar digging into my hips. Not Derek’s laugh. Not the cameras, the watchers, the gun pressed to Kade’s skull. Not what’s slicking the marble under me.
It was the betrayal.
Mine.
I should be numb. I should be gone.
But when it started to build … when that pulsing traitor curled up inside me …
He knew.
And he used that.
Not for himself.
For me.
He pushed me past it. Made me feel it like it was the last fucking thing he’d ever get to give me.
That white-hot rush? It belonged to him.
Every sound that slipped out? His.
Part of me doesn’t want to come down from that high. At least there, even under the cameras and those two monsters behind their masks—
I felt alive.
Cold air floods the space Kade left. The emptiness hits harder than the fullness.
After everything, my body remembers. The ghost of his fingers on my hips. The spot on my lower back he kissed like some secret he didn’t mean to give away.
I can’t move. The marble is unforgiving. My fingers are still clenched tight.
Kristy is sobbing somewhere, and the sound twists up inside me, bends back on itself—until all I want to do is scream.
“Bravo.” Derek claps once.
My skin crawls.
“You two really are my favorites,” he muses, tone syrupy with approval. “Now, roll her over.”
No, don’t—
Kade flips me like I’m nothing more than a doll for him to rearrange.
A trickle of warmth slides down, pools beneath me. Don’t know if it’s him or me or both.
It’s filthy. Perfect. Ours.
A tear leaks out, and I hate that he sees it when I can only stare at his mask. Those empty eyeholes.
But I knew. I know he’s just as wrecked.
He swipes his thumb across my cheek.
Don’t.
I keep my head flat on the marble. The ceiling stretches forever. No escape. Just the blur of Derek’s Ghostface looming over me. Josh’s ragged breathing. Amanda’s boots clicking closer.
And Kade—
Still between my thighs. Still inside me in all the ways that matter. His shame. His rage. The way his hands shook when he touched me.
“What do you think, Dollface?” Derek asks. “Did Thirteen and Thirty-one pass their test?” His gun nudges my knees apart.
Amanda’s mask tilts. I can feel her stupid eyes crawling over my bare thighs, the mess between them.
Just as I hope she’ll say yes and call it done, that she’ll find her fucking soul, her gloved finger taps my hipbone. Once. As if she’s testing ripeness.
I want to rip that bitch-hog apart. I want—
“Think they need a little more motivation.” She sounds like a GPS from hell.
The barrel rests against the inside of my left thigh.
A sickening wave cuts through me.
Kade sucks in a breath—ready to make a move. If he takes my place, then what? My turn would come next. Or soon.
I stay still. Waiting for it—for the searing jolt I can almost feel burning into my skin. The end of everything.
“You leave her alone,” Kade grits out.
Amanda steps in beside him, her taser crackling near his ribs.
“Or what, Thirteen?” Derek croons. “Think you can save her?”
I choke down a whimper. My breath is shallow. Maybe if I don’t get enough air, I’ll pass out before—
Derek’s mask fills my vision. “Won’t hurt that much. I promise.”
“Fuck you,” Kade growls.
Derek laughs. “That’s right. That’s what she’s thinking.”
The muzzle grinds in.
I clench, tears welling.
“Nah.” Derek pulls back. “Too easy.”
Gun’s gone but the threat stays branded. He grabs my hair, yanks my head sideways. “Watch.”
Josh’s face swims into view. His Adam’s apple bobs. “N—no. No, please, I’m—I’m sorry—please, no—”
The blade flashes.
“Stop,” I whisper. “You win, Derek. You fucking—”
One smooth pull.
Blood gushes over my face. Hot. Iron. Death.
I can’t see. I can’t fucking see.
That same gurgling sound.
A hand clutches mine.
Kade.
His grip is the only thing left.
Josh clips the altar as he goes down, shoulder knocking into mine.
My lungs burn. I’m drowning in fire. Drenched in red.
Takes every shred of will to roll sideways. Kade’s fingers curl tighter around mine as I retch. Nothing comes out. Just dry heaves that split me open.
I plant my palm flat to the marble, force myself to sit up.
Kade shifts with me, still holding my hand. Just enough to put himself between me and Derek.
I wipe my face, my neck. My hair’s matted and sticky, hoodie soaked through.
“Josh—Josh! Somebody help him!”
My vision’s blurry, but I can see Kristy now—sobbing. They all are.
“Josh…” Wesley’s staggering toward the altar, hands still zip-tied, face streaked with tears and snot. “Hold on, man—I’m coming—”
Amanda doesn’t hesitate.
The taser snaps.
Wesley seizes. Drops like his spine’s unplugged.
“Fuck you,” he grits out. “Fuck all of you!”
Derek sighs. “And that’s why we don’t rush the stage, folks.”
Amanda and Derek turn their backs on Josh.
Gurgling.
Blood.
Seeping into the grooves of the altar.
Wesley’s scream cuts through the chapel—
‘Why do they always run toward the killer?’
I’m back in Lana’s dorm room sophomore year, the two of us tangled under her ratty quilt, her calling every kill before it landed.
Now I know.
You run because standing still means the camera catches everything. Means you see the bloodshot whites of their eyes. The way their fingers twitch even after they’re gone.
Derek wipes his blade clean and taps at the tablet. “What’s next?”
Amanda’s snout tilts as she swipes at the screen. A wet, staticky giggle leaks through her mask.
Derek’s grin is audible. “Knife play. Perfect.”
The words—I didn’t check that one—rot in my throat. What’s the point?
Any protest will only make them double down. They’ll do whatever they want anyway.
“Better make it count then, Pigface.” I shift one leg off the altar. My muscles scream. Who cares? I’m done being a display.
Kade’s grip tightens. “Payton,” he says—low, a warning, a plea.
“Ah, ah,” Derek chides. “Stay where you are.”
Amanda’s balancing a knife on her palm. She offers it to Kade.
Derek watches. Then slowly lifts the gun again—aiming it at Kade.
“Go ahead, Thirteen.” Derek croons. “Show us how much you love her.”
The blade gleams in Kade’s hand. His knife—the one he dropped back in the control room. Cheap but deadly.
He stares at it, at Josh, at the blood. Makes a sound I’ve never heard before—part growl, part sob.
His thumb skims the hilt. Not gripping it. Not yet.
Now the barrel’s leveled at his temple.
And still—Kade doesn’t move.
Any second, the gun will go off and—
“You fucking coward.” My laugh tastes like blood. “You wanted me? Then take me.”
I shove him with one leg—as hard as I can.
He holds the knife. Stares at the blood. The handle. My chest.
“Payton—” he rasps.
“Do it.” I shove at him again—harder, my heel digging into his ribs.
“Tick-tock, Thirteen. Or maybe Death wants a turn.”
That snaps Kade into gear.
The blade glides over my collarbone—only a whisper of steel. Nothing more.
I gasp. Let my head fall back.
Because that’s what we do now. We perform.
The tip drags down my chest, catching on my hoodie—wet, heavy, almost fused to my skin.
Lower.
The knife grazes my belly. Dips.
Pauses.
Then slides between my thighs.
My heartbeat slams against everything it can’t outrun.
Her hand enters the frame—gloved fingers clamping down over his.
“You can do better,” the bitch purrs through the modulator.
The blade jerks. She’s driving his hand, trying to split me open.
But Kade doesn’t give. Not even with Derek’s gun aimed at his skull.
Amanda snickers. “Come on. Don’t go soft on me, Ghostface.”
They’re fighting over the blade now. Her hand forcing. His resisting.
Fuck. If that blade enters me … I’m done.
“Let her have her fun, Thirteen. Or I’ll carve your girl open.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Nonono, please, no …
Something breaches me. I flinch, bracing for pain—for blood. For it all to fucking end.
The air rushes out of me when I look down.
The hilt’s buried inside me.
And Kade’s holding the other end.
“Fuck her with it,” Amanda barks. “Make her come.”
The world swims. I stare up at that stupid mask. Still him. Always him.
The handle shifts. In. Out. In. Out.
Not fast enough for my pulse to pick up. Not slow enough to give me a chance to breathe either.
Every part of me wants to shut down. To stop feeling.
His hand stays steady.
The rhythm doesn’t change, but I do—cracking under the weight of his quiet, bloody defiance.
This is him telling me—I’ve got you.
Even with a blade in his hand and a gun to his head. Even while they watch.
“Harder.” Amanda slams her hand over his.
The hilt knocks deeper. My jaw snaps tight. A grunt rips free.
Kade wrenches it out.
My eyes sting. My chest fractures.
He’s hurting for me. Bleeding to stay gentle.
Those gloved fingers lace through his blood-slick ones. The more Amanda grinds down, the deeper the blade bites into his palm.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Blood hits the altar between my thighs—warm. Real.
Make it stop. Make it fucking stop.
I rock my hips, hitch my breath—anything to get that fucking blade out of his hand.
My body won’t obey. Every shudder’s stiff, each gasp hollow.
Kade’s holding back. Holding her off. Holding me together.
Me? I’m putting on a goddamn show while he bleeds behind the curtain.
“What’s the matter, Thirteen?” Amanda hisses. “Scared you’ll like it too much?”
She pushes again, rougher.
This time Kade moves—a controlled shift, his shoulder pressing into hers, forcing her off balance.
“You want to play? Then play with me.”
Derek laughs. “Oh, now he’s got a spine.”
Amanda recovers fast, grinding Kade’s fingers deeper into the blade. Her snout nudges his ear. “Finish her.”
Fuck it. Fuck them all.
I reach between my legs and smear the blood—Kade’s blood.
Look at me. Look at what you made me do.
My fingers aren’t working. Can’t feel it. But I keep trying. Can’t stop. Not when Kade’s dying.
“Kade …” I stare into those eyeholes. “Touch me.”
His thumb brushes my clit—bleeding fingers wrapped tight around the blade like he’s holding onto me with everything he has left.
“Dirty little slut,” Amanda spits. “Knew you’d like it messy.”
I lift my hips into him.
Not for Amanda. Not for Derek.
For Kade.
This is ours.
I choke on a sob as the pressure crests. Higher. Tighter.
Amanda’s still spewing some filth about me.
“Look at me, Payton.” Blood drips down the knife, slicking my entrance. “They don’t get to break us. Never.”
My breath stutters. I fall—
Into it.
Into him.
My cry breaks loose between clenched teeth.
I come—hard, shameless, unapologetic.
This isn’t surrender.
This is our fucking win.
The knife clatters.
Kade pulls away. Rips the mask off and tosses it aside.
He doesn’t look at me. Not once.
But Amanda does. She crouches to eye level, the snout stopping inches from my face.
“Admit it,” she purrs, brushing the hair from my eyes. “That was the best fuck of your life, huh? Brett never even got close. Then again, he never had to bleed for it.”
My breath hitches. Brett.
Only two people here would know.
Kristy and—
No, it can’t be.
I watched Ghostface stab her again and again. She was bleeding. There was so much blood.
She died saving me.
I choke on nothing. On every fucking thing.
“Lana?”