The Institute’s doors groaned open, a sound I’d come to know better than my own heartbeat. The cold New York air clung to my skin, still laced with the metallic tang of ichor and the faint burn of adrenaline.
The mission had been messy. Too many demons, not enough backup, and a strategy that had fallen apart within the first five minutes.
My guess? Alec’s strategy.
I flexed my fingers, the ache in my knuckles pulsing in rhythm with my pulse. Two daggers still strapped to my thighs, one rune burned down to a faint scar on my forearm. I’d have to redraw it before the next patrol.
Behind me, the heavy door clicked shut. I didn’t have to turn to know he was there. The tension in his shoulders was a language I’d learned to read without looking, the way his steps fell just a little too controlled when he was annoyed.
Which was always.
Alec Lightwood
You could have waited for backup.
His voice came out clipped, measured. The voice he used when he was trying very hard to sound composed, which only meant he was anything but.
I finally turned, offering him a grin that I knew would get under his skin.
Cassia Blackthorn
Backup was you. And you got there in time to see the show.
Alec Lightwood
jaw tightens That’s not the point.
Cassia Blackthorn
Then what is the point, Lightwood? That I finished the fight before you could draw your bow?
He didn’t answer. Just stared at me, blue eyes sharp, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I could see the retort building, the way he opened his mouth—
Isabelle Lightwood
Are you two done?
Isabelle appeared in the doorway of the weapons room, leaning against the frame with a knowing smirk. Jace came up behind her, blood still smeared across one cheek, but he looked annoyingly pleased.
Jace Wayland
I give it five minutes before they’re at each other’s throats again.
Isabelle Lightwood
They already are.
I shot them both a look, but it didn’t land. They’d seen this dance too many times to be intimidated.
And maybe that was the worst part. Everyone knew. Everyone saw how we circled each other like knives looking for a sheath.
What they didn’t know was that I hated it. Hated how my pulse quickened when he stepped closer. Hated how his voice, stern and measured, made me want to do the exact opposite just to watch him crack.
Hated how, at the end of the day, he was the only one I trusted to watch my back.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and brushed past him, letting my shoulder knock against his as I passed.
Cassia Blackthorn
Next time, try to keep up.
Alec Lightwood
low, dangerous There won’t be a next time.
I paused halfway up the stairs, casting a glance over my shoulder. His gaze was still locked on me. Steady. Challenging. The kind of look that promised a war I was more than willing to fight.
Cassia Blackthorn
You say that every time, Lightwood. And yet.
I let the words hang. Then I turned and kept climbing, the weight of his stare burning against my back long after I’d disappeared into the corridor.