Curled up on the couch, Bella hugged her big, blue, chubby cat as the TV droned on in the background. This quiet, lazy moment had become one of her few indulgent habits. She'd grown to appreciate staying informed—watching the news, keeping up with local chaos, spotting red flags before they became full-blown disasters.
It wasn't that she enjoyed the carnage.
She just knew better than most how quickly something small could spiral out of control. If she hadn't been worried about a certain purple grape with world-ending ambitions, she might not have lifted a finger at all.
Then—
Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!
Gunfire erupted outside.
Bella didn't even blink. Her ears registered the sound, but her body stayed relaxed. In a city like New York—practically America's answer to Gotham—gunfire was as common as car horns. If she ever went a whole day without hearing a single gunshot, then she'd worry.
Her phone vibrated.
Beep.
She didn't even look at the screen before answering. But the moment she saw the caller ID, her entire posture snapped upright. The shift was so sudden that the blue cat, previously purring in bliss, let out a startled "meow" of protest.
But the atmosphere had changed. Bella's entire expression darkened.
She ended the call and gently set the cat aside. Rua, sensing the tension, instantly went quiet and slinked back onto the couch, eyes wide, body low.
Bella's face was cold. Frighteningly cold.
She didn't speak.
She just moved.
Grabbing her keys and sliding into her Camaro, Bella gunned the engine down the street. Her normally smooth, elegant driving was replaced by sharp corners and aggressive speed. Horns blared. Someone shouted. Tires screeched.
But she didn't care.
Her destination was clear:
Manhattan General Hospital.
Outside the hospital, passersby were stunned to see the yellow Camaro drift smoothly into a narrow parking space, its scissor doors hissing open. Bella stepped out, not even glancing at the crowd now gawking at her flawless looks and fierce presence.
She walked straight into the elevator, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, and made her way to the Intensive Care Unit.
The moment she stepped into the hallway, she took in the scene with one glance.
Three police officers stood nearby—two younger men and one older, clearly the senior. A teenage boy in a green hoodie sat slumped beside them, hands cuffed, a bandage across his forehead. His expression was twisted with guilt.
Next to him, a blonde girl cried quietly, tears streaking her face.
The senior officer had the boy by the collar, his face red with rage.
"You idiot! Do you have any idea what you've done? There's a girl in that room—unconscious—because of you! She might not survive this!"
He shook the boy, fury radiating from every word.
Inside that room… was his daughter.
And he had to stand here, unable to do anything but wait and hope.
"Sir..." one of the younger officers began nervously as he saw Bella approach.
The older man turned to see who had arrived—and froze.
She didn't need to speak.
Her presence alone sucked the air out of the hallway. Cold, commanding, and terrifying. Before he could react, Bella walked past him and seized the cuffed teenager by the neck.
"What the hell—?!" the officer started.
But it was already too late.
Boom.
The boy's back hit the wall hard as Bella effortlessly lifted him with one hand, pinning him in place like a ragdoll. His feet dangled above the floor, his face rapidly reddening as he gasped for breath.
He clawed at her wrist, legs kicking—but he was powerless against her strength.
"Put him down!" the younger officers shouted, drawing their pistols instinctively.
The blonde girl gasped, stunned silent. Even the senior officer's hand twitched toward his sidearm.
But then he held out his arm to stop them.
He stared at Bella for a moment—reading her like a book—and spoke in a calm, low voice.
"You're Angie's friend, aren't you?"
His tone was firm, but not aggressive. Reasoned. Controlled.
"She's still being stabilized in the ICU. If you make a scene now, it might disrupt the rescue effort. I know you're angry. So am I. But hold it back. For her."
His words were professional, yet sincere.
But Bella didn't even look at them.
Because from the moment she'd entered the floor, her enhanced senses had already told her everything she needed to know.
She'd heard Angie's heartbeat through the wall. Weak, but steady.
She'd caught the doctor's tone—relieved. "Stable" and "safe" had been mentioned. Those words were enough to calm the storm inside her… slightly.
Still holding the boy pinned, she leaned in, her voice quiet but deathly cold.
"Who did it?" she asked. "I'm not going to repeat myself. Make me ask again, and you'll beg to die."
Her grip loosened just enough for him to breathe.
The boy collapsed to the ground, coughing violently, holding his neck as tears streamed from his eyes. He looked up at her, eyes wide with guilt and shame.
"I—I didn't mean to…" he whispered.
"I was trying to stop a robbery. They had guns. I panicked. I ran. They chased me."
His voice cracked.
"I—I didn't mean to lead them there. I didn't know they'd open fire. Angie and Gwen... they were just there, wrong place, wrong time. I didn't mean to—"
He broke down, letting the mask he wore slip from his hand and fall to the floor.
Bella narrowed her eyes.
A high school vigilante. Probably inspired by all the capes and cowls he saw on TV. Thought he could be a hero. And instead… he'd led a pack of armed criminals straight into her sister's path.
She clenched her fists.
She had heard the gunshots that day. In fact, she was just leaving Sophia's store when they echoed down Queen's Road.
She ignored them.
That bitter realization made her want to scream.
This idiot didn't fire the shot that hit Angie—but he might as well have. His reckless play at heroism had nearly gotten her killed.
Bella was about to say something else when the ICU door opened.
A doctor stepped out, confused for a moment at the tense atmosphere. His eyes landed on the teen coughing by the wall, and he blinked in surprise, but quickly returned to the senior officer.
"George," the doctor said gently, "She's stable now. No more danger. She's sleeping but should regain consciousness in a few hours. She'll need to stay for a while to recover, but she's out of the woods."
George let out a breath so deep it shook his shoulders. "Thank you, Steven."
The doctor nodded. "Also… if you're planning on asking more questions, I'd suggest doing it later. Let everyone breathe first."
"Understood."
As the doctor left, George turned to thank Bella.
But she was already walking past him.
She didn't say a word.
She just opened the ICU door and stepped inside to see Angie.
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