Page 46 of Girl, Bound

But even as the wordsleft her lips, she could feel the life draining out of him, could see the lightfading from his eyes like a candle sputtering in the wind.

Not like this. Notanother one. She couldn't let this poor guy slip away, couldn't bear the weightof another soul on her conscience.

‘Come on, stay withme,’ she pleaded. ‘You're gonna be okay, you hear me? You're safe now. We'vegot you.’

The man's eyelidsfluttered, and a weak moan escaped his lips. For a moment, Ella thought she sawa flicker of awareness in those glassy eyes, a spark of the person he'd beenbefore the monster had gotten his claws into him.

She gripped his hand,willing her strength into his battered body. ‘That's it, just keep breathing.Nice and slow, in and out. You're doing great.’

But she could feel thechill seeping into his skin, could hear the rattle of his breath growingfainter with each passing second.

The man’s fingerstwitched in her grasp, a feeble attempt at a squeeze that broke her heart allover again. His lips moved, a whisper of sound that was almost lost beneath theclamor of the gathering crowd.

Ella leaned in closer,her ear nearly touching his mouth. ‘What is it? What are you trying to say?’

For a moment, therewas nothing but the rasp of his breath, the fading echo of a life slippingaway. And then, a single word, as fragile as a sigh.

‘Cold.’

Ella's throat closedup, a sob welling up from the depths of her soul. She knew what that meant,knew the grim reality that lurked behind that simple word. The cold was theherald of death, the icy touch that crept in when the body began to shut down.

But Ella wasn't aboutto let this man go without a fight. She eased him down onto the unforgivingconcrete, tilting his head back and pinching his nose shut.

‘Stay with me. You'renot alone. Come on, breath, in and out. Don’t give up. Medics will be here.’

She sealed her lipsover his cold, slack mouth and breathed deep, watching his chest rise and falllike a sad, broken bellows. Again and again, she forced air into hisunresponsive lungs.

But it was like tryingto inflate a torn balloon. Each breath seemed to leak right back out, his cheststuttering and stalling beneath her hands.

But even as shefought, even as she raged against the dying of the light, she could feel himfading. His skin was pale as a corpse, his lips tinged blue. The rise and fallof his chest grew shallow.

His chest hitchedonce, twice, and then went still, a final breath rattling in his throat like adeath knell.

And then, with afinal, shuddering sigh, he was gone.

Ella felt it happen,felt the moment when the spark of life flickered out.

She didn't move,didn't dare to breathe, as if by sheer force of will she could bring him back,could undo the terrible thing that had been done to him.

But there was noundoing this, no way to turn back the clock and make it right. He was gone, andno amount of wishing or praying or bargaining with a God she'd long sincestopped believing in would change that fact.

In that moment, Ellafelt something break inside her.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Ella stood in thealley, the bitter taste of failure burning in the back of her throat. Shewatched as the coroner's team loaded the body bag into the back of their van.The man’s lifeless form was now just another piece of cargo to be cataloged andfiled away.

Beside her, Ripleyheld still like a statue. Ella could feel the anger radiating off her partnerlike heat from a furnace, the same impotent rage that simmered in her own gut.

They’d screwed up.Plain and simple. They'd put all their chips on Barber, convinced themselvesthat he was the key to cracking this case wide open. And while they'd been busychasing their tails, the real killer had slipped through their fingers like smoke,leaving another broken body in his wake.

Ella shook her head,disgust and self-loathing churning in her stomach like a nest of vipers. Somedetective she was. The victim had died right in front of her, in her arms. Theimage and the sound of his final moments had imprinted on her mind, and she doubtedshe’d ever be able to shake them off.

And most tragically ofall, another innocent life had been snuffed out.

‘Ripley, Goodweathersaid the toxin wouldn’t kill. Our guy didn’t suffocate. The poison killed him.’

‘You said it yourself,Dark. Too much of anything can kill. Itchy trigger finger, maybe.’

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