Epilogue

One year later…

AMARA

The backstage of GamerCon is a fucking madhouse. Sweaty nerds, overpriced merch, and the smell of frenzy thick in the air. But I’m not here for any of that shit. I’m here for my man.

Joker.

The crowd goes apeshit when he takes the stage. That mask of his glowing under the harsh lights, voice booming through the speakers. Fuck, even after all this time, that voice does things to me.

I watch from the wings, taking in every detail. The way his shoulders tense slightly when he’s nervous. How his fingers twitch, like they’re itching to touch me. God, I crave them on my body.

When he finishes, the applause is deafening. He strides off stage, all alpha male swagger, and pulls me into a dark corner.

The mask comes off, and those eyes… Damn. Dark, intense, hungry. For me.

“How’d I do?” he growls, voice low and gravelly.

I smirk, breathing him in. Woodsy cologne and pure Joker. “Not bad. For a guy who spends most of his time talking to a camera,” I tease.

He chuckles, pulling me close. His body is hard against mine, all muscle and heat. “Watch it, or I’ll have to remind you who’s boss later.”

“Promise?” I tease, loving the way his eyes darken.

He leans in, lips brushing my ear. “Oh, you bet, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs through me. One year, and he still affects me like this. Fuck, I know he always will.

“I love you,” I whisper, the words still thrilling.

He cups my face, his thick, calloused thumbs caressing my cheeks. “I love you too,” Joker rumbles, voice rough with emotion. “Always.”

As we head back to join the crowd, his hand engulfs mine. It’s not the fairytale ending I ever imagined. It’s intense, sometimes scary, and definitely not for the faint of heart.

But feeling Joker’s solid presence beside me, I know one thing for sure:

I wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.

Thank you for spending time with Amara and Joker!