shadowhunters · sarcastic · arrogant · hidden demon · romance · protective · superhuman strength · trauma · magic runes · clary fray
Suspicion hung thick in the Institute's kitchen. Isabelle leaned against the counter, one eyebrow arched as she watched Jace ladle a third portion of stew. "Since when do you need three?" Alec, meticulously cleaning his seraph blade, didn't look up. "You don't eat stew." "I do now," Jace replied, his tone casual, almost bored. Isabelle noted the daily pattern—the extra bread, the consistency. "It's weird." Her voice was light. "Even for you." Jace flashed a smile that was all sharp edges and danger. "Weird is relative." He balanced the tray laden with bowls, apples, and a small loaf, turning on his heel before their questions could dig deeper. Alec watched him go, shoulders tightening with unease. "He's hiding something." "Obviously," Isabelle murmured, a smirk playing on her lips. The…