29. Emma
Emma
I stand at the entrance booth, adjusting the witch hat that keeps slipping over my eyes, marveling at how much has changed in such a short time.
Our social media following exploded, particularly after videos featuring Maple wearing tiny costumes went viral.
The videos showcase her around the farm in everything from fairy wings to a tiny shark costume.
Tonight is Halloween, and Harvest Home Farm has transformed into a haunted wonderland.
Jack-o’-lanterns line every path, their flickering faces casting eerie shadows across the grounds.
Fake cobwebs drape the barn entrances, and the maze has been reimagined as a “Labyrinth of Fear,” complete with hidden speakers playing ghostly whispers and the occasional mechanical jump scare.
“How’s it going out there?” Theo asks, adjusting my witch’s hat as I check my phone for the latest social media metrics.
“Busy,” I say, showing him the stream of tagged photos pouring in. “We’re trending locally. The haunted maze is a huge hit.”
The farm is open until 10 p.m. tonight, the season’s last event.
Rowan insisted on extra security for tonight’s extended hours—burly men in discreet earpieces stationed at every entrance and patrolling the perimeter.
Their presence should be reassuring, but the knot in my stomach won’t loosen.
Marcus’s silence feels calculated, like the calm before a storm.
“Penny, for your thoughts?” Theo asks. He’s dressed as a pirate, with a fake parrot on his shoulder and a black patch covering one eye.
“Just thinking about how quiet it’s been,” I admit. “No word from Marcus since Mom’s visit. It’s making me nervous.”
He adjusts his eyepatch. “Maybe he finally got the message that you’re not interested.”
I give him a skeptical look. “You don’t know Marcus. He doesn’t give up—especially when his ego is involved.”
“Well, he’d be an idiot to try anything tonight,” Theo says, gesturing to the two security guards stationed at the entrance. You’re safe, Emma.”
“Besides,” Theo continues, his usual playful smile returning, “you’ve got the scariest security detail of all.” He points to where Maple stands nearby, wearing tiny devil horns that make her look ridiculously adorable rather than menacing.
I laugh, some of my tension easing. “The fearsome hell-goat, terror of the pumpkin patch.”
“Exactly. Come on, you promised to help me judge the costume contest.”
The night progresses without incident. Children in costumes race between activity stations, collecting candy and small prizes. Parents sip spiked cider and take photos. Teens shriek with exaggerated fear as they emerge from the haunted corn maze.
By nine o’clock, I’m beginning to think my fears were unfounded. The costume contest has ended, and the last hayride of the night is loading up.
My phone buzzes with a text message.
Liam: “Come find me in the maze. I have a surprise for you.”
Heat floods my cheeks as I read the message. Since that first night in my cottage, things have progressed to a comfortable intimacy. We still haven’t completed a bond—all of us agreeing to wait until I feel completely ready—but we’ve found countless ways to pleasure each other in the meantime.
“On my way,” I text back, my heart racing with anticipation.
I make my way toward the maze entrance, passing groups all wearing the same costume—a skeleton jumpsuit with a glow-in-the-dark ribcage and a white mask. It must have been popular this year.
The entrance to the maze is crowded with people exiting, laughing, and comparing which scares got them the best. I slip past them, entering the tall corn field. It is a little too dark and scary, but I push forward.
The path twists and turns, the sounds of the festival growing more distant with each step. Motion-activated speakers emit spooky sounds—owl hoots, whispered voices, creaking doors. I jump a few times even though I know exactly where they are. I assume Liam is waiting at the very center.
I pass more visitors, including another group of identical skeleton costumes. They laugh and chat as they pass, clearly friends enjoying the night together.
The maze’s center opens into a small clearing where we’ve placed a throne made of hay bales. It’s empty now; the staff member who usually sits there as the “Maze King” is most likely done for the night.
I look around, confused. “Liam?” I call softly.
No answer.
I pull out my phone to text him when I notice a lone figure standing at the opposite entrance to the clearing. Another skeleton costume, a white mask. Something about how they stand with their head tilted slightly sends a shiver of fear through me. “There’s my omega.”
My blood freezes. Not Liam’s deep, gentle rumble, but a smooth, cultured tone I know all too well.
Marcus.
“Surprised to see me, Omega?” He reaches up, removing the mask to reveal the face that has haunted my nightmares. Handsome in a conventional way, with sharp cheekbones and cold blue eyes. “You shouldn’t be. I told you I was coming.”
I take another step back. “Your mother helped provide details about your new… situation.” His lip curls with disdain as he glances around. “Though I must say, I expected better from you than this rustic little petting zoo.”
“Leave me alone, Marcus,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as I back toward the path I came through. He steps closer into my space, inhaling deeply, and his eyes turn black with hatred as he catches my mates’ scents on me.
“The second I get you home, I’m going to have to fuck that smell right off of you,” he growls. “Nobody touches what’s mine.” His eyes have a possessive hunger as his dark frame stands over me.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I try to sound bold, but I am becoming increasingly terrified of what I know this man can do, and I take another small step back.
“Always so difficult,” he sighs, as if dealing with a stubborn child.
“That’s what got you into trouble in the first place, remember?
We could have avoided all this unpleasantness if you’d just been a good little omega and done what you were told.
Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? ”
“I’m aware,” I say. “That was the point of leaving. I didn’t want to be found.”
He laughs, the sound designed to be charming but carrying an edge of something colder. “We had a misunderstanding, that’s all. There was no need for this… extended disappearance.” His eyes flick dismissively around the farm. “Or this dramatic downgrade in lifestyle.”
“It wasn’t a misunderstanding, Marcus,” I say firmly. “You tried to force a bond. You bit me without consent. You would have completed the claiming if I hadn’t had my Alpha-Away with me.”
I turn to run, but another skeleton blocks the path—one of his security, I realize with growing horror. The identical costumes weren’t a coincidence; they were a strategy. Marcus brought his own people, hiding them among legitimate visitors.
“Don’t make a scene, Emma,” Marcus says, his voice hardening as he grabs my arm. “My men are throughout this pathetic excuse for a farm, and they’re creating enough chaos that no one will notice you’re gone until it’s too late.”
As if on cue, a distant commotion carries through the night—shouts, the sound of something crashing.
“What did you do?” I demand.
“Nothing permanent,” he says with a dismissive wave. “Just enough chaos to keep them busy while we leave this hovel.”
“They’ll find me,” I say. “My mates will know something’s wrong.”
Marcus’s grip tightens painfully. “Your mates,” he spits the word like it’s poison. “Three nobodies playing house with what’s mine. Do you really think that little arrangement would last? You’re mine.”
“I am not yours. I never was.”
His nostrils flare. “You still smell unclaimed. They haven’t bonded you.” His smile returns, predatory now. “Smart of them. They knew you belonged to me.”
“Stay away from me,” I warn, searching desperately for an escape route.
“This little rebellion of yours has gone on long enough,” he says, advancing slowly.
“It’s time to come home, Emma. I’ve been patient.
I’ve been understanding. But my patience has limits.
Do you know what your little stunt cost me?
The contract that fell through when word got out that I couldn’t even control my own omega. ”
“I’m not leaving Marcus, and that’s final.”
He sneers. “Do you know what the country club wives whisper when I walk by? My family’s reputation—built over generations—was damaged by your little tantrum. It stops now.”
He pulls me roughly towards the back, where a few corn stalks have been removed. “Now be a good girl and—”
A familiar bleat cuts through the night, followed by running hooves. Before either of us can react, a small white missile launches itself at Marcus’s ass, tiny horns lowered in attack.
Maple.
Marcus curses as he launches forward, stumbling. “What the fuck—get this thing off me!”
Maple’s attack gives me the opening I need. I twist in Marcus’s grip, stomping hard on his instep. He howls in pain, his hold loosening just enough for me to wrench myself free.
“Run, Maple!” I shout, pushing the little goat away from us. “Get help!”
Miraculously, she seems to understand, bleating loudly before darting through the maze. Marcus recovers quickly.
“You little bitch,” he snarls, the cultured veneer completely gone now. “You’ll regret that.”
I crash through the narrow passages of the maze, heart hammering against my ribs.
Behind me, I hear Marcus gaining ground, his longer legs eating up the distance between us.
I try to take a sharp left and head back towards the farm, away from the forest’s edge, but he tackles me from behind, sending me sprawling.
The impact knocks the breath from my lungs as Marcus’s weight pins me to the ground.
We’re still behind the maze, behind the tall stalks of corn.
“Get off me!” I scream, thrashing wildly, but he’s too strong, too heavy.
“Enough!” he barks, flipping me onto my back and straddling my hips.
His face is twisted with rage, all pretense of civility gone.
“I’m done playing games with you. You’re mine.
Always have been. Emma, I selected you. Researched your bloodline, your family’s financial situation, and your education.
I made an investment based on careful analysis, and investments don’t get to walk away. ”
I claw at his face, managing to rake my nails down his cheek before he captures both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head. With his free hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that glints in the moonlight.
A syringe.
Terror floods me. “What is that? What are you doing?”
“Insurance,” he says, his smile returning as he uncaps the needle with his teeth. “A little something to make you more… compliant. No omega walks away from me. Ever.”
I renew my struggles, bucking and twisting beneath him, but his weight holds me firmly in place. “Help!” I scream, my voice carrying across the empty field. “Somebody help me!”
“No one’s coming,” Marcus says, pressing the needle against my neck. “By the time your little ‘pack’ figures out you’re gone, we’ll be miles away. And you’ll be begging me to claim you.”
The needle pierces my skin, a sharp sting followed by spreading warmth as he depresses the plunger. I cry out, more in despair than pain.
“What did you give me?” I gasp as he withdraws the needle, tossing it aside.
His smile widens, cruel and satisfied. “Just a little heat inducer. Highly concentrated.” He leans down, his lips brushing my ear.
“In about fifteen minutes, you’ll be in full heat.
Desperate. Willing to do anything for relief.
” His hand strokes my cheek with mock tenderness.
“And I’ll be the only alpha around to help you. ”
Horror washes through me as I feel the first flush of unnatural warmth spreading from the injection site. Already, my skin feels too tight, too sensitive, where his body presses against mine.
He pulls me to my feet, keeping a bruising grip on my arm as he drags me deeper into the forest. My legs feel increasingly unsteady, and my thoughts blur at the edges. The heat is coming on too fast, too strong—.
“You’ll see,” Marcus continues, his voice taking on an almost dream-like quality. “Once I’ve claimed and bonded you, you’ll forget about those farmers. You’ll be where you belong—by my side, in my bed, carrying my mark.”
“Please,” I whisper, seeing the car waiting just a little farther down.
“You’ll be begging for something else soon enough,” Marcus says, his nostrils flaring as he catches the first hints of induced heat in my scent. “You’ll be all over me in minutes, Emma. And then you’ll be mine. Forever.”
A distant sound reaches me through the growing haze of heat—a familiar bleating, followed by deeper voices calling my name.
Maple found help.
My mates are coming.
But as another wave of heat washes through me, more intense than the last, I wonder with growing despair if they’ll be in time—or if the drug will turn me into exactly what Marcus wants before they can reach me.