Epilogue #2
If he didn’t stop that, they were going to lose the whole day in bed. Or on the sofa. Hell, bent over the counter. There was no place off limits when Cade wanted to prove to Tris just how much he was wanted. “Do I even want to know how you learned this?” he asked to distract himself.
“The internet. Coding was my hyper-fixation for, like, two years,” Tris said vaguely.
Cade chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “Good to know.”
They stayed like that for a while, Cade scrolling through his phone, Tris typing furiously. Occasionally, he would mutter something about “UX flow” or “murder logistics” while Cade refilled their coffees. The rhythm was absurdly domestic—keyboard clicks and caffeine instead of gunshots and blood.
Domesticity wasn’t something Cade had ever imagined for himself.
He’d always been motion: kill, clean, move on.
But Tris had slowed him down, somehow, while simultaneously making his life absolute chaos.
He found he didn’t mind. Tris was entropy wrapped in sugar. And Cade—God help him—liked the mess.
Cade brushed his thumb along Tris’s jaw. “You know, most people wouldn’t want their husband managing a murder app from the living room.”
“Most people are boring,” Tris said, turning his head to press a quick kiss to Cade’s wrist. “Besides, I improved your workflow. You should be thanking me.”
“I am,” Cade said softly, meaning it.
Tris smiled. “Good. I also uploaded last night’s proof of kill to the app so you could get paid. You earned 2,500 points, which has you sitting in the number two spot.”
“We have a rank no—Wait, number two? Who’s above me?” he said, jealousy flaring beneath his ribs.
“OldSpice45,” Tris said, glancing back and watching him carefully.
Cade’s nostrils flared. “I’m being outranked by a dude called OldSpice? Find me a high-value target right now.”
“See?” Tris said smugly. “Look how motivated you are.” He turned back to the computer. “Oops.”
“Oops?” Cade asked. “Oops what? Don’t say oops when you’re on the murder app.”
Tris gave him a tight smile. “I meant to send a thumbs-up emoji to one of the assets, but accidentally sent the eggplant.”
“To a killer?” Cade snapped.
“It was an accident,” Tris said meekly.
Cade peered over his shoulder. “Show me.” Tris’s shoulders shook with laughter. “What? What’s so funny?”
“I was just kidding. And besides, the eggplant emoji is only for you.”
“It better be,” Cade grumbled. When Tris beamed at him, he shook his head. “You are chaos incarnate.”
“And you love it,” Tris said, craning his neck back to kiss him.
Cade caught his mouth, deepening the kiss once more, and when they finally pulled apart, Tris’s cheeks were flushed, his grin soft.
“No more boats, though, right?” Tris murmured.
“Never again.”
“Good. Because if I have to choose between Titanic roleplay and throwing four hundred pound traffickers into the ocean, I’m picking waffles.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Tris said before haughtily adding, “If you’re me…”
Cade laughed quietly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “My life was so boring before I met you.”
Tris beamed at him. “My life sucked before I met you.”
For a man who claimed he couldn’t feel anything, Cade had never felt more alive than when he was with Tris. “I’m glad you were horny enough to swipe right on my picture.”
“It was down to you and one other guy…” Tris taunted, letting the words hang between them.
“What other guy?” Cade growled.
“I hardly remember,” Tris said wistfully. “But I think his profile handle was…OldSpice45?”
“Oh, that’s it.”
Tris squealed as Cade knocked him onto his back on the sofa, pinning his arms above his head. “Look who’s got jokes,” he murmured. “Didn’t anybody ever warn you not to taunt a killer?”
Tris stared up at him, enough love bleeding from his eyes to steal Cade’s breath. “I’ve never really had a great sense of self-preservation. I once met a guy on the docks in the middle of the night.”
Cade dipped his head, scraping his teeth just beneath Tris’s ear. “Sounds like a real lunatic.”
Tris gasped, grinding up against him, letting his legs wrap around Cade’s waist. “Yeah, but he was a real animal in the sack.”
“Is that so?” Cade asked, rocking his hips against Tris’s, pleasure shooting along his spine.
“Mm,” Tris said.
The computer dinged. Tris’s head darted to his laptop, his response almost pavlovian.
“Don’t you even think about it,” Cade warned.
“Or what?” Tris taunted, taking Cade’s hand and leading it to his throat. “You’ll kill me?”
Cade massaged his throat. “You’re fucking unhinged.”
Tris darted his tongue out to lick over Cade’s lower lip. “But you love me, anyway.”
That wasn’t quite true. He didn’t love Tris in spite of his chaos. He loved him because of it. Cade never realized how black and white his life had been before Tris had shown up splashing color everywhere like he was Jackson Pollack. Now that he had him in his life, he could never go back.
“I really fucking do.”
Welcome to the Heartstopper App
Some people download dating apps.
Others download death.
The Heartstopper App looks like any other invitation-only network. You swipe, you match, you chat. Except here, “chemistry” doesn’t mean attraction. It means detonation. You don’t meet your soulmate. You meet your mark.
There are rules, of course.
There are always rules.
No civilians.
No children.
No loose ends.
It’s all very civilized—contracts, clean-up crews, and code names that sound like bad Tinder handles. The GameMaster built it that way. Keeps things tidy. Keeps things fun.
But this isn’t about the GameMaster.
It’s about the players.
The killers who make murder look like foreplay.
The marks who maybe deserve it.
And the rare, stupid, beautiful bastards who find love somewhere between the bloodstains.
Because the Heartstopper App doesn’t care what you want.
It only cares what you’ll do to get it.
Maybe you’re here for revenge.
Maybe you’re just bored.
Maybe you’re looking for something real, even if it comes wrapped in danger tape and bad decisions.
Either way, Welcome to the Game.
You might find what you’re looking for.
You might even find love.
But one way or another,
you’re going to lose your heart.
Want more vigilantes, violence, and feral devotion?
Start with Book One of Necessary Evils and fall for the original monsters.
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