Page 4 of Girl, Bound

No, she would keepthis to herself, for now. She would keep digging, keep searching for themissing piece that would make everything fall into place. And when she foundit, when she had the truth in her grasp, she would bring this mysteriouswatcher to justice. No matter the cost.

CHAPTER TWO

Ella's eyelids snappedopen like roller blinds recoiling with a twang. She blinked, disoriented, hersurroundings slowly coming into focus. The conspiracy board, a web of photosand string, loomed before her in the gray morning light. She had slumped overin her chair, her cheek imprinted with the pattern of papers scattered acrossher desk. Her clock glared back at her: 9AM.

Realization dawned,cold and cruel. She'd fallen asleep at her desk, lost in the labyrinth of herown obsession.

‘Dammit,’ shemuttered, rubbing the stiffness from her neck.

The quiet hum of herapartment was a strange companion. She wasn't due at the office; Edis hadbenched her after Atlantic City's chaos left its mark on her in more ways thanone. She pushed herself up from the desk, wincing as her muscles protested thesudden movement. She felt the echo of bruises beneath her skin, and her stomachchurned, but the thought of food twisted her face with aversion. Sleep, too,had become a distant memory, a luxury she could no longer afford.

She stumbled to themirror, the reflection confirming what she felt inside. Pallid skin clung toher cheekbones, the perfect canvas for the graffiti beneath her eyes. Her hairhung in limp strands, betraying nights of restlessness and days without propercare.

‘Hot as ever, Dark,’she scoffed. She felt like a walking corpse masquerading as a living, breathinghuman. Ella turned away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight of her owndeterioration. She'd always prided herself on her strength, on her ability toweather any storm, but this obsession was a cancer that ate away at her fromthe inside out.

Memories of theprevious night slithered into her thoughts. A shadow outside her window, or wasit? Paranoia could be as lethal as a bullet in her line of work, blurring thelines between reality and illusion. Was she unraveling, or was there trulysomeone out there?

Ripley. The thought ofher partner tightened her chest. Mia Ripley, with a life full of color —family, imminent retirement, the new warmth of Martin's love. Could he be atrisk too? Martin Godfrey, Ripley's new flame. The thought of him in thecrosshairs pushed Ella a step closer to the edge. Martin had never wrongedthem, never given their shadowy stalker a reason to target him. But if Ripley'shappiness was seen as a threat, if this angel of death decided that Martinwasn't worthy of her, then her guess was as good as any.

Ella shook her head,trying to dislodge the morbid thoughts that swirled like poison. She couldn'tthink like that, couldn't give in to the paranoia that nipped at her heels.Ripley deserved happiness, deserved a chance at a life beyond the badge. And Ellawould be damned if she let some sick son of a bitch with a savior complex takethat away from her.

A sudden knock at thedoor shattered the silence, sending Ella's heart into her throat. She froze,every muscle tensed, ready for fight or flight. Who other than the postman madehouse calls this early?

Ella forced herself tobreathe, to push down the panic that threatened to consume her. She was agoddamn FBI agent, not some shrinking violet. She'd faced down the worst of theworst, stared into the abyss and come out the other side. Whoever was at her door,she could handle it.

She moved to the doorand peered through the peephole.

And then, like amiracle, like a stay of execution, she saw him.

Ben.

A bruise stilldecorated one side of his face, but there was no denying that the man on theother side of the door was the one that got away. The man who'd stolen herheart and shattered it beyond repair.

Hope flared in herchest, bright and burning. Maybe he'd come to his senses, realized he couldn'tlive without her. Maybe he wanted to give them another shot.

She flung open thedoor, a smile on her lips. But it died as quickly as it had come.

Ben stood before her,a packed bag slung over his shoulder. A one-way ticket out of her life.

Ella drank him in,every detail seared into her memory. The tousled hair she'd once loved to runher fingers through. The strong jaw she'd peppered with kisses. The eyes thathad seen her at her worst and loved her anyway.Her heart ached to reach out, toweave her fingers with his, but the space between them yawned wide as oceans.

But Ella held back,fingers curling into fists at her sides. She couldn't cross that line, couldn'twelcome that potential heartache back in.

‘Ben?’ she asked.

Ben shifted, gazedarting over her shoulder. Into the apartment that she hoped held as manymemories for him as it did her.

‘Ella. I’m sorry fordoing this.’

‘Do you want to comein?’

‘I can't. I just... Ineeded to see you,’ Ben said.

Needed. Past tense. Areminder of what they'd once had, what they'd lost. Ella swallowed hard,blinking back the tears that burned behind her eyes. She watched him,memorizing the lines of his face, the way his jaw tensed. He wasn't just sayingno to a conversation; he was closing chapters, sealing away histories.

‘What are you doinghere?’ Her voice was a ghost of itself.

He sighed, shouldersslumping. ‘I'm leaving, Ella. I'm here to say goodbye.’

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