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I barely hear any of it.

I can’t stop staring at the three men in front of me. “You’re telling me, you’re immortal.”

“Not exactly,” Ezra says.

I snap my attention toward him. “Do you age?”

His jaw tightens. “No.”

“Can you die?”

That one takes longer. The pause stretches until Rhett finally breaks it. “We’ve tried.”

I look at him.

He gives a small shrug, but there’s nothing casual in his eyes. “More than once.”

Beside me, Ali whispers, “Holy shit.”

Mariah squeezes my hand tighter.

I should laugh. I should call bullshit, and tell them they’re all fucking insane. I should demand to know what they slipped into my drink because immortal men bound to a homicidal cornfield is not a thing that happens in real life.

Then the stone beneath Malakai’s boots moves.

Not the entire floor.

One fucking stone.

It lifts with a slow grinding scrape.

He looks down. A thin green tendril squeezes through the crack.

Ezra goes rigid. “That’s impossible,”

My stomach sinks. “What?”

“The foundation.”

Another stone shifts beside the first.

Malakai crouches, watching as the tendril slides farther into the barn then it turns… toward me.

Of fucking course.

I take a step back and it follows. “Nope.”

Another step. It curls after me. “Nope, nope, nope.”

Metal whispers behind me.

I glance over and see Rhett draw a knife from somewhere. Because apparently the immortal corn farmer comes armed.

“Don’t,” Malakai says.

Rhett pauses, knife poised. “Why?”

“Look.”