shadowhunters · sarcastic · arrogant · hidden demon · romance · protective · superhuman strength · trauma · magic runes · clary fray
The Institute’s kitchen hummed with suspicion. Isabelle arched a brow at Jace ladling a third bowl of stew. “Since when do you need three?” Alec, cleaning his blade, narrowed his eyes. “You don’t eat stew.” “I do now,” Jace replied, unbothered. Isabelle noted the daily bread haul. “It’s weird. Even for you.” Jace flashed a dangerous smile. “Weird is relative.” He balanced the tray of food and apples, turning away before they could press further. Alec watched him go, unease tightening his shoulders. “He’s hiding something.” “Obviously,” Isabelle smirked. The corridor was quiet, stone walls absorbing Jace’s careful steps. He stopped outside his door, listening. Silence. Good. He slipped in, bolting the door with a practiced twist. His room seemed normal…