55. Cope

55

COPE

The pop wasn’t nearly as loud as I’d thought a bullet would be, but it still did damage. Roman’s body jerked as if it had been electrocuted. But instead, there was a single bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

Sutton let out a strangled sound, pressing her face against my back at the horror of it. It wouldn’t matter to her that the man whose life was bleeding out on the barn floor had wished her harm, even death. She never would have wished the same on him.

Marcus strode forward, annoyance twisting his pretty-boy face. He kicked Roman’s foot before bending to pick up his weapon. “You know, Sutton, you really have shit taste in men. First an addict, then one who’s going to get you killed.”

My blood turned to ice. “You’re not going to hurt her.”

The annoyance in Marcus’s expression morphed into amusement. “I’m not? Because it looks to me like I’m the one who’s going to be the hero for once. I’m the one who’s going to get the glory. Not fucking you.”

“You planned this,” Sutton whispered .

Marcus chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. “Yes, I planned this. After I realized who you were, I had to fly to Baltimore and hunt down your disgusting ex, who was living in filth, by the way. I had to stoke his rage and tell him how my teammate, who has everyone believing what an incredible guy he is, was fucking his wife.”

“I’m not his wife,” Sutton bit out as I reached behind me to squeeze her side.

Marcus grinned. “He still thought of you as his. And he hated you for leaving him. I just had to fan those flames. Tell him how much money Cope had. Money that could be his. That should be his. And all he had to do was take it.”

Blood roared in my ears. “You set him up.”

“Poor Roman was never going to make it out alive. But every story needs a bad guy. A villain and a hero. What’s everyone going to think when I find him killing you both in the barn? I was just seconds too late to save you, but I managed to shoot your murderer. Think about how the press will eat that shit up.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Trace’s voice cut through the air like the cold steel of the sharpest blade. “Marcus Warner, this is the Mercer County Sheriff’s Department. Lower your weapon.”

It all happened so fast. One second, Marcus’s eyes were rounding in shock, and the next, he was yanking me in front of him like a shield. Like Roman had done with Sutton, two monsters pulling from the same playbook.

But at least I knew he didn’t have her. Sutton would make it out. Trace wouldn’t let it play out any other way.

Marcus pressed the gun against my temple. “You take another step, and I’ll make sure my finger slips.”

Trace stilled, but I saw the cold rage swirling in his dark-green eyes. But I couldn’t let it register. Not now. I only had time to make sure of one thing.

My gaze collided with Sutton’s, horror overtaking her expression. “Go,” I rasped.

She instantly began shaking her head.

“Sutton, go!” I put as much force as I could into the single word .

Tears streamed down her face. “I can’t leave you.”

“You can, and you will. You’re going back to that beautiful boy who’s pissed as hell that you cheated in water gun tag hide-and-seek. And you’re going to tell him that you love him and that I do, too.”

“Cope.” Her voice cracked on my name, more tears spilling over.

“Do it for me.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Marcus snarled. “I’ll kill you both just so I don’t have to listen to this.”

His gun moved from me to Sutton for just a split second. Panic surged, and I knocked into Marcus, throwing him off-kilter just long enough for me to shout, “Go!”

Sutton skittered back out of the barn, and that’s when I saw him. Just a brief flash, but I recognized Anson’s scowl as he grabbed Sutton and got her out of the line of fire. That meant there was help. More than Trace. I just had to keep Marcus talking until they found their opening.

The gun smashed into the side of my face, making my vision blur. Marcus grabbed my shirt tighter. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Lower your weapon, Marcus,” Trace ordered again. To any outsider, it would’ve sounded like my brother didn’t give a damn about me. But I knew what it meant. He’d gone to that other place, the one where he turned everything off.

Marcus let out a derisive scoff. “Sorry, Trace. You know that’s not going to happen. And it’s nothing against you. I actually like you. It’s your piece-of-shit brother who needs a lesson.”

With each word, his grip on my shirt tightened. I could feel the rage pulsing through him in waves. I just didn’t understand why. But maybe the reason would keep him talking and give us the time we needed.

“What the hell did I ever do to you?” I growled.

Trace’s eyes flashed in warning, and I read the underlying message: Don’t poke the bear.

“What did you do to me?” Marcus pulled my shirt so tight the collar strangled me. “You stole everything from me.”

My brows pulled together, confusion sweeping through me. I knew Marcus and I were compared often. We’d come up in the ranks together, so it made sense. And the fact that he’d grown up only a few hours away meant we’d played together as kids quite a bit, too.

But in my mind, we’d always been fairly evenly matched. One of those situations where he had the edge one year and I did the next. We were drafted into the pros the same year, and I was picked one round before him. Still, we were both prize catches for the Sparks.

I dropped my voice. “What did I steal?”

“It all should’ve been mine,” Marcus snarled. “From the beginning. The Pacific Northwest Youth League MVP. You know they only gave you that because your dad and brother died.”

My muscles stiffened to stone. The award had come six months after the accident. I’d thrown myself into hockey as soon as I healed enough to get back on the ice. It was my only escape. I trained for hours before and after practice, losing myself in the physical toll it took on my body.

I could see now that it had been punishment. The escape I’d found on the ice wasn’t escape at all. And it had taken finding Sutton and Luca to show me that. But it was more. Experiencing hockey through Luca’s eyes had helped me find the joy in it again. Helped me remember the bond I’d shared with my dad. They’d brought him back to life for me in so many ways.

Marcus pulled back the gun and then jammed it under my chin so hard my skin tore, and my teeth clacked together. “Do you know what my dad did to me after that awards banquet? Took a belt to me so hard I couldn’t sit for weeks. Couldn’t lie on my back. But he forced me right back on the ice the next day. Telling me I needed to be more—like— you .”

My mind reeled as I tried to pull the threads together. I was still coming up empty. Because none of this sounded like the man I’d known growing up. Weston Warner had always been one of the first parents to greet me with a back slap and an attaboy when I scored a goal. He’d even pulled me aside for pointers on shots here and there, sharing his expertise from his years in the pros.

But it was more than just the sports piece. Weston served on the board of charities, fundraised for youth hockey programs across the country, and often sponsored gear for kids on our teams who couldn’t afford it.

“What?” Marcus sneered. “Don’t believe dear ole dad was such a monster? He put on a good show. Just. Like. You.”

Marcus punctuated each word by shoving the barrel of the gun against the underside of my chin. “Smiling for the cameras, then beating me behind closed doors. Telling you what an incredible job you did, then telling me I was his worst disappointment.”

My gut roiled at the sheer pain in Marcus’s voice because it told me he wasn’t lying.

“Do you know what he said to me on his deathbed?” Marcus asked, his voice dipping low.

I didn’t answer right away. Couldn’t.

“DO YOU KNOW?” Marcus screamed, shaking me and making Trace lift his gun higher, looking for a shot.

“I don’t,” I croaked.

“He said he wished he could’ve lived just one day thinking you were his son instead of me.”

Jesus. Marcus’s father had used me to torture his son. He may have been the monster, but I was the weapon he reached for most often.

“I’m sorry.” I struggled to get the words out with the gun jammed under my chin. But they weren’t a lie. No kid deserved what had happened to Marcus.

Marcus hauled back and slammed the butt of the gun into my jaw. “You’re sorry ? You’re just like him.”

My vision swam from the force of the blow as I tried to get my bearings. “Like him?”

“Everyone thought he was so smart, so kind, generous. Threw his money around to get everyone on his side. But they didn’t know how ugly he truly was. How twisted. That’s you. Everyone thinks you’re this golden boy. Volunteering at a kids’ camp, donating to youth hockey, so dedicated to the sport. But you’re just out for yourself. You don’t give a damn about your team or anyone else. ”

Marcus sucked in a breath and gripped my shirt tighter. “I tried to show them. Tipped off those reporters to the truth. Leaked the footage of you punching me to show them how you treat your team .”

“You goaded me into that.” The realization hit me like a physical blow.

“I showed them who you really are,” Marcus snarled. “But the rest of the world needs to know, too. It was never enough. Not the anonymous report of steroid use. Not even when I frayed the brake lines on Teddy’s car. They should’ve known it was all your fault. All your fault that he drove out to bumfuck because poor Cope was struggling. Just had to go check on him. But no, they just loved your eulogy like the pathetic sycophants they are.”

He gripped my shirt harder, pulling it so tight the neckline cut into my airway. “Do you know how much time I wasted following him down here? Paying a hacker to loop your security footage so I could sneak onto your property and mess with his brakes?”

“You killed Teddy.” My ears rang with the words.

“ You killed Teddy. He wouldn’t have died if it wasn’t for you. Just like your brother and dad wouldn’t have.”

Rage ignited, fast and fierce. Marcus had stolen Teddy from us. Not some freak accident and slick roads. Someone we’d considered a teammate, a brother.

“And now I’m going to kill you,” Marcus snarled.

I didn’t wait, knew there wasn’t time to try to keep him talking and hope Trace or Anson would find a shot. I had to move. Now.

Rearing my head forward, I threw it back as hard as I could and connected with Marcus’s nose with a vicious crack. He howled in pain, the gun dropping away for the briefest moment.

I didn’t waste a second. I tried to pull the few sparring lessons I’d gotten from Kye into my mind and prayed my muscles would remember. I grabbed the arm Marcus held the weapon with and brought up my knee. I was aiming for his goddamned balls like Sutton had with Roman, but missed, catching his inner thigh instead.

“You don’t get to win!” Marcus howled.

He shoved the gun harder in my direction. I fought with all my might, remembering just what it was I was battling for. Luca. Sutton. The family we were building together.

Marcus let out a cry of fury, and a pop sounded right before fiery pain exploded through my ribs. My eyes went wide, and I struggled for breath. Shouts sounded all around me, but it was like they were coming from far away.

It felt like flames engulfing my entire torso as I dropped to the ground. My vision tunneled, and as everything went black, I swore I heard Sutton yell my name.