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We cross the yard, and the silence hits me almost immediately.

The screaming has stopped.

No guests crowd this part of the farm anymore, and nothing moves between the buildings. For a moment, I think everyone finally got the fuck out.

Then I hear music.

It drifts toward us from somewhere in the distance, faint and slow beneath the crackle of bonfires still burning across the property.

I look toward the glow.

People are still there.

Harvest Communion is still fucking happening.

After everything that just happened, they stayed.

They have to be out of their goddamn minds.

“What the fuck?”

Rhett follows my gaze. “They think it was part of the show.”

“Roots came out of the ground.”

“People paid extra for the VIP package.”

I look at him. “You’re joking.”

“Yes.” He smirks.

“Jesus.”

We reach the corn, and I stop. The stalks part on their own, creating me a path.

No. Nope. Absolutely the fuck not.

“That is horrifying.”

Malakai steps beside me. “Yes. It is.”

“You say that like you appreciate it.”

“I do.”

Of course he does. He’s the Tiller. He appreciates everything out here.

We enter the field with Malakai leading, Ezra behind me and Rhett in the back. The deeper we go, the warmer the air becomes. I expect roots. Scarecrows. Dead Brides.

Instead… nothing… just corn, moonlight and dirt. The red ribbon appears ahead lying across the path.

Malakai stops. “So that’s where it wants us.” He kneels, touches the dirt then closes his eyes.

The ground shifts beneath his palm softly—almost affectionately.

My chest tightens.

I watch his fingers sink into the soil. This is different from Ezra. Different from Rhett. Malakai belongs here. Not owns it—belongs.