I Became The Heroine

I Became The Heroine
Isabella’s POV

Agnes’s eyes were locked on my hand pressed to my waist, confusion warring with dawning hope.

“Why the hell are you touching your waist like that?” she whispered fiercely, voice cracking at the edges.

Unbelievable. She can’t even get a hint.

I rolled my eyes…pain shooting through my swollen cheek…and forced a weak, bloody smile.

“Because Damien’s paranoid ass made me wear a waist chain after the last time I vanished and ended up behind bars. Anastasia tried to frame me for murder too like a month ago. He lost his mind. Said wristwatches are too obvious, necklaces get ripped off, anklets are cute but useless in a fight. So he had this custom silver chain made…looks like delicate jewelry, feels like it too. But there’s a micro-tracker sewn into the clasp. Double-tap it, and it pings him a silent SOS with exact coordinates.”

Agnes blinked. Then blinked again.

“Wait…hold the fuck up. Anastasia came all the way from Texas? And you were a murder suspect too? So you, Jace, and Damien have all been framed for murder at some point? I’m literally the only one missing from the ‘wrongly accused club.’ I feel so left out. Where’s my dramatic courtroom montage? My tearful exoneration speech?”

I groaned, the sound wet and ragged.

“Agnes. Focus. We’ll do the group therapy session later. Right now—”

I tapped twice on the spot where the chip is.

A tiny, almost imperceptible vibration hummed against my skin. It’s been activated. I almost forgot about it. Thank God I remembered.

Agnes exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for years.

“Good. Jesus Christ. Okay. Thank God you have an obsessed boyfriend. So right now, we just need to get the hell out of here. Hide somewhere until the cavalry rolls in,” she muttered as we started creeping forward, crouched low behind crates.

“We have to be quiet, Agnes,” I groaned through the pain shooting up my entire body. “We don’t want them finding out that we are trying to escape.”

But she wasn’t listening to me. She kept muttering about how lucky I am to have Damien. 

“I’m telling Jace about it. He's making me one of those waist things. Cute and freaky. I want the rose-gold version with tiny diamonds. And maybe a panic button shaped like a heart. Romantic stalking at its finest.”

I groaned again. Agnes will be the death of me.

We slipped through the side door we’d found earlier, moving in painful silence. Another low concrete barrier…knees screaming as we climbed over it. We dropped low again, scooting through an open stretch of floor lit only by emergency strips. Every scrape of shoe on concrete felt deafening.

Soon enough, we rounded a corner and just then…

“Not one more fucking inch.”

The voice sliced through the dark…low, steady and lethal.

We froze mid-step as fear kept us rooted at a spot.

Two men blocked the path ahead. Suits wrinkled now, guns steady in their hands. The third was gone…probably with Carlos.

Agnes and I raised our hands slowly in surrender.

She flicked her eyes toward the far end of the warehouse. Run?

My pulse thundered in my ears. What if they shot? What if we didn’t even make it five steps before—

Sirens blasted through the evening air just then. Distant at first…then closer. Growing louder.

The man nearest us cursed under his breath, voice cracking with frustration.

“We’re fucking surrounded. Great. Just fucking great.”

“Fucking stop being a chicken, Philip. We can still get out of this in one piece,” the other scolded.

They were distracted. Perfect. Before I could signal to Agnes, she was already grabbing my wrist…hard enough to bruise…and yanked me towards the far end.

We bolted immediately. But boots pounded behind us.

Another man stepped out from behind a rusted forklift…blocking the only clear path forward.

Agnes skidded to a halt. “Shit.”

The first men caught up, panting, guns still raised.

“Look at this mess,” one groaned. “The old man fucking fled. Demanded Voss help him escape the country…said these two bitches were his golden ticket out. We could’ve walked when the rest of the crew bailed. But no. Loyalty. Stupid, blind loyalty. Now look where we are.”

The younger one…twitchy, sweat beading on his forehead…shook his head violently.

“We’re already neck-deep. No turning back now.”

Agnes, hands half-raised, voice steady despite the tremor in her fingers.

“There is turning back. Drop the guns. Turn yourselves in. Cooperate. Sentences get cut in half. You walk in for a few years instead of rotting forever.”

The twitchy one actually lowered his gun an inch. Sighed like the weight of the world was crushing him.

“She’s right. It’s gone to hell anyway. No point dying for a coward who left us holding the bag,” he added.

The furious one…still younger, eyes wild…snapped his head toward him.

“What the fuck are you saying? The boss won’t like it.”

“Which boss?” the other younger one shot back, voice rising. “The greedy old fart who ran without us? He’s gone and we’re surrounded. All we can do is to use the girls and bargain our way out. Lay low somewhere or even disappear.”

“No.” The older one’s voice dropped to something almost broken. “We do the right thing. For once in our miserable lives. We turn ourselves in. We don’t drag two scared women down with us.”

The younger one laughed…bitter, hollow.

“Right thing? You think the cops are gonna give a shit about ‘right thing’ when they find us with two kidnapped women? We’re fucked either way.”

“Then let them go!” the older one roared. “Let them run. We take the fall alone.”

The younger one’s face twisted.

“Too late for heroics, old man.”

Amidst the back and forth from the three of them, Agnes and I started moving. We didn’t even get far when the younger one swung the gun toward us.

“Stop. Or I swear to God—”

Sirens screamed right outside then…tires screeching, doors slamming, voices barking orders through megaphones.

Police burst in from every entrance…black tactical gear, rifles up, red dots dancing across chests.

“DROP YOUR WEAPONS! HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM! NOW!”

The older one hesitated…then let his gun fall. Hands shot up over his shoulders. “It’s over boys. Surrender.”

The twitchy younger one did the same…but the other one didn’t move. His gun was still trained on us.

“Agnes!” Jace’s voice…raw, terrified echoed from the far doorway.

Agnes whipped toward the sound and without thinking, started running.

I saw the barrel swing. Saw the finger tighten on the trigger.

Time slowed as I shoved her away just in time.

Then the shot cracked…deafening, final.

Damien’s scream ripped through the warehouse… “ISABELLA!”

Why is he yelling my name? I thought to myself.

Then, hurried boots…shouts from all angles. The man was tackled to the floor, cuffs snapping on, rifle butts slamming into his back.

I stood there. 

Waiting.

For the burn. For the wet heat of blood. For the slow collapse.

But nothing happened.

No pain.

Just… numbness.

And beneath it…something warm started dropping. Bright. 

And the second I saw it, I felt accomplished.

Because for once—

For once in my entire messy, broken life—

I’d done something for Agnes.

For every single time she’d charged into danger for me. Every time she’d laughed through my tears. Every time she’d held my hand when the world was falling apart. Every sarcastic text, every late-night call, every fierce, loyal, ridiculous moment—

I’d finally given something back.

I’d stepped in front of the bullet meant for her.

My knees gave out just then as pain rushed in all at once.

The concrete rushed up to meet me in no time.

I heard Damien’s voice…closer now, frantic, breaking… “Bella—baby—no—no—stay with me—”

Agnes’s scream…high, shattered the evening air in a terrified pitch. “BELLA!”

My vision blurred at the edges.

But I wasn’t scared. I was… proud of myself.

For the first time in forever—

I felt worthy.

Worthy of her friendship.

Worthy of his love.

Worthy of being here.

And if this was the end…

At least I’d gone out protecting the person who’d always protected me.

The world faded to black.

And all I could think was: ‘Thank you, Agnes. I finally got to save you back.’