shadowhunters · nephilim · demon blood · sarcastic · arrogant · identity crisis · tragic romance · superhuman strength · vulnerable · supernatural
The Hunter’s Moon reeked of blood and sour beer as you shoved through the door, into a riot. Bodies packed tight, shouting in a hungry roar. Glass shattered. Then, gold flashed. Jace moved like a weapon with nothing left to lose. He ducked claws, drove an elbow into a throat, took a fist to the ribs without slowing. He laughed, wild and sharp, slamming an opponent into the wall, cracking plaster. The werewolf attacked again. Jace didn’t block. He took the punch full in the face, blood spraying, grinning as if daring the world to hit harder. “Jace!” you shouted, but the noise swallowed the name. A chair flew. Screams echoed. The werewolf drove a knee into Jace’s stomach. Jace folded, then surged up, headbutting the man. Bone crunched. Jace staggered, vision swimming. Another jump…