A/N: Hey! I'm starting this story, however, if continued, it would be a shorter story than usual. I haven't updated my other story "Secrets are no Fun Unless They're Shared With Everyone" because of some serious writers block, so I found this chapter I had randomly writen. Here you go!
(P.S If you haven't already, go check out my other story I just mentioned.)
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments, just the plot.
It was a normal day. But then again, it always starts out that way. Clary Fray sighed as she rushed down the winding driveway to her car. She was late for her job that started at 8:30 AM at Java Jones… again. Her boss Kaelie had told her she had one more chance until she would be fired. Clary had been vigilant about getting there on time, but this morning, she had gotten caught up watching the news.
A local bank, one that just so happened to be the one she stored her money, had gotten robbed ten minutes ago. Clary quickly called the bank and was relieved when the customer service man said that her money was still there. She then looked at the time, cursing herself as she gathered her phone and purse after saying goodbye to her older brother Jonathan.
Clary pulled out of her driveway hurriedly, narrowly avoiding the mailbox. As she turned the corner street, her heart sank in realization. The only road she could take to the cafe was the one the robbed bank was located on. It was swamped with police cars. Clary looked at the time; 8:27 AM. There was absolutely no way she would get through the traffic and into the like shop in time.
Clary banged her head against the steering wheel. Her car let out a loud HONK, and Clary's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The light up ahead turned green. Cars started slowly moving, and Clary got excited. Maybe she would make it on time. However, as she got to the light, it quickly changed to yellow, then red. Clary slammed on the brakes, and her rickety old car gave a groan. Clary huffed in annoyance and glannced at the clock again. 8:34. Shit… she was so fired.
"What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?" Clay whispered to herself. The money she made from her small job had to pay for her art school tuition for next year. If she didn't get the money, no art school, no joy, and absolutely no fun.
"Are you talking to yourself?" a voice from behind her asked.
Clary shrieked and quickly twisted to see who had joined her in her beat up car. The man was beautiful. There were no other words to describe him. Utterly beautiful. He smirked at Clary, as if he knew what she was thinking.
Clary swallowed nervously. "Who the hell are you, and why are you in my car?"
The man rolled his eyes. "I would tell you," he pressed a gun to the back of her head and calmly finished, "but I have somewhere to be."
Clary's emerald eyes opened impossibly wider. "What the fuck, dude? Get the hell out of my car!"
The man shook his head, dug the barrel deeper into her head, and jerked his head towards the steering wheel. The very thing Clary had been cursing a mere minute ago. Clary got the message and slowly turned back to the wheel, the cold, hard barrel poking her as she did.
She let out a huff of air. "What do you want? Money? Hate to disappoint you, bud, but I don't have any of that."
"Not money, carrot, I've got enough of that." The man chuckled in the backseat, while Clary tried to figure out what could possibly be funny in this situation. Chancing a glance at the rearview mirror, she barely contained a gasp at the sight of three money bags strewn across the back.
"Just drive, and you might get out alive," the man muttered.
She exhaled slowly. What could she do? What could she do? Stall him. That's all she could do. The light turned green, and Clary hit the gas as the man nodded approvingly.
"So, uh, I don't really know how this works. I've, uh never actually been kidnapped before. Only seen it in movies. Am I allowed to talk? I mean, in movies the kidnapped person doesn't speak, but I don't know if it's out of fear, or because their captor told them not to. You seem like a, er, nice guy? Why wouldn't you let me talk. Technically, you talked to-"
"Shut up," the man said while looking at his phone.
Clary huffed, "Well, if you are gonna be mean about it, you might as well tell me your name so I can curse you out in my head without saying 'Fuck you, man.' So?" This was the perfect opportunity to learn his name, so she could report him to the cops later. If she got out alive.
A/N: That is the first chapter. Please let me know if you want me to continue this story because I'm not sure right now. I did mention in the first A/N that it would be a shorter story. Thanks for reading, check out my other story "Secrets are no fun Unless They're Shared With Everyone". Review! 3