I shouldn't have been looking at the news, but I couldn't help it. I scrolled through articles and flipped through channels, absorbing everything that'd been written and broadcast for the world to see. It'd been days, and Valentine's death and Jonathan's arrest were still all the news wanted to cover. Nobody could understand how the Morgensterns were able to run a secret drug empire for so long without getting caught.

My own face had appeared in the stories numerous times. Clarissa Morgenstern. Valentine Morgenstern's secret daughter. Present at Valentine's death. Currently not in custody.

Clarissa Morgenstern. Valentine's daughter. That was all I'd been reduced to, the one thing I'd been trying to avoid. The assholes weren't even using my legal name. Not Clarissa Fray. Daughter of Jocelyn Fray. Artist. Friend. Bartender. Nothing but just another Morgenstern, and the media was desperately trying to figure out exactly how I was connected to everything.

My phone hadn't stopped going off since the news broke-endless texts, calls, and voicemails from Simon and Maia. I ignored them all. There was only one name I wanted to see light up the screen.

With each new notification, I got my hopes up only to be disappointed. I must have been a masochist. There was no logical reason for me to want to talk to him. What was he going to do? Apologize for using me to get to my father and brother? Apologize for making me fall in love with him and letting me think he loved me back? For making me feel dirty and used, knowing I'd let him into my heart and body while he was getting paid to hunt my family?

Thinking back, I should have recognized the signs. The way he'd always been hellbent on meeting Valentine. The convenient job that couldn't be confirmed and would randomly take him out of town for days at a time. The way he'd defended the police after the break-in. How he'd pushed off sex for so long, probably only giving in when he got worried about me leaving. He'd taken the reveal about The Circle surprising well after that first night, too.

I had been so stupid. I should have known it was all too good to be true, but I'd been blinded by a love that turned every red flag gray. And I continued to be stupid by wanting him to reach out. Wanting to hear his voice tell me that somehow everything would be okay. That somehow he could fix this.

Because right now, nothing was okay, and I didn't even know where to go from here. I had no family. Luke, who had always been there for me, was gone. I doubted my friends would want to be associated with me after all this. And Jace? Well, Jace Wayland didn't exist. At least not as I knew him.

My phone started ringing again, and my heart stuttered at the unknown number.

"Hello?" I answered, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Clarissa?" My stomach dropped at the familiar voice. It wasn't Jace.

"Agent Lightwood," I responded coolly. "Didn't expect to be hearing from you again so soon."

"I need you to come down to the field office," he said, not wasting any time on pleasantries.

Immediately, I went on the defense. "Am I being charged with something?"

He snorted. "If you were being charged, there'd be uniformed officers on your doorstep. We need you to make a statement."

"No."

"Miss Morgenstern—"

"It's Fray." I was seconds away from hanging up.

"Clarissa," he continued, "do you want to see your bother locked up for good?"

"Yes." I'd rather see him dead, but rotting in a prison cell was the next best thing.

"Then you need to come down here and tell us everything you know." I could hear the incessant tapping of a pen on a desk. Agent Lightwood was not a very patient person, and apparently, I was taking too long to respond. He continued talking. "Look, I don't like you nor do I trust you, and I am sure the feeling is mutual, but if we want Jonathan Morgenstern to stay behind bars, we need to come to a temporary truce and work together."

I sighed and leaned my head on the back of the couch. He knew the right words to say, just like his partner, but at least I would get something out of it this time.

"I don't know much," I admitted. "I made sure I wasn't in the know so I wouldn't have to lie if police got involved."

"I am aware you did not partake in your family's dealings. Agent Herondale made that abundantly clear." He sounded resentful of the fact. How dare I not be involved and put everything in a pretty little package all tied up with a bow for him? "However, we want an airtight case. Any information you have will help."

I weighed my options. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, I agree. If I were present when a crime was committed, and I tell you that, what happens?" As much as I wanted Jonathan to go down, I needed to protect myself, too. I refused to go down with him.

"We have bigger fish to fry. An accessory to a crime is not high on our list of priorities," he said. "We are willing to grant you immunity in exchange for your cooperation."

I wanted to watch Jonathan burn. I wanted him to suffer for all the shit he put me through. I wanted him to pay for killing our father. It seemed working with the feds was the only way to make that happen.

"Okay," I conceded. "I'll do it."

I asked Agent Lightwood to give me a few days. Even though Luke had a car dropped off for me before he vanished, a trip to the city wasn't one I wanted to make in an afternoon. The extra time also allowed me to write down everything I knew. If I was going to do this, I wanted to go all out, and I was not about to risk forgetting anything.

Notes in hand, I stepped into the FBI office. Agent Lightwood was waiting at the front desk for me, his blue eyes cool and impassive. I received a visitor's badge from the receptionist and followed him through a set of frosted glass doors. We walked through a bullpen of organized desks, and while nobody was outright staring, I could still feel their eyes on me. A wolf entering the sheep's pen.

I froze when I saw a honey-blond head of hair standing by a set of windows. It was weird seeing him in a suit and tie. All I'd ever seen him in were t-shirts and jeans and the occasional button-up and slacks. But there he was in a black suit, the jacket undone to reveal a crisp white shirt and the gun holstered on his hip.

Dark circles were etched into the skin below his bloodshot eyes, rivaling the bags under my own. The dull hazel held a sorrowfulness that only served to piss me off. What did he have to be sad about? He had successfully completed his assignment and helped take down The Circle. He'd probably be hailed a hero. I bet he would get a nice promotion or bonus out of it, too.

"Are you coming or not?" Agent Lightwood snapped.

I forced myself to look away from Jace and followed Agent Lightwood into an interview room. He set up a tape recorder on the center of the dark wood table and indicated for me to start talking.

Before I could change my mind, I told him everything. The stories my mom shared with me. Everything I witnessed and heard when I first came to live with Valentine and Jonathan. All the little bits of information I'd accidentally picked up over the years. What happened that night Jonathan killed Ed. A play by play of the warehouse the night Valentine died. I gave him names and locations, only leaving out Luke. My loyalties did not lie with anyone else, not even Sebastian.

I felt terrible airing out all of Valentine's dirty laundry like this. Now he would only be remembered for the crimes he committed. All the good he'd done would be forgotten. Nobody would know how caring or loyal he was. But if it helped put Jonathan away, then it had to be done.

"Your brother is going to know you spoke to us," Agent Lightwoods said after I finished.

"I'm aware." I closed the notebook I'd brought and slipped my pen into the spiral binding.

"That puts you in danger." He was just full of stating the obvious today. "We'll likely need you to testify during the trial, whenever that happens. Until then, we can set you up in protective custody. After the trial, we can discuss permanent witness protection."

I stood and pushed my chair in, the plastic legs not moving easily against the thin carpet. "Thank you, but I'll be fine on my own."

Agent Lightwood's brow furrowed. "Clarissa, this is serious."

I straightened my back. What was it with everyone thinking I couldn't take care of myself? That I didn't understand the severity of the situation? That I didn't know what my own psychotic brother was capable of? "And I'm being serious right back, Agent Lightwood. No hiding out for months and definitely no witness protection."

"Your life is on the line here." His voice was stern.

For someone who hated my guts, he seemed awfully concerned with my wellbeing. It had to be a P.R. thing. Probably afraid I'd get knocked off before the trial.

"I understand that. Considering it's my life, I get to make the choice." For once, I wanted to be in control. "Now, are we done here? I have a long drive home."

Agent Lightwood mumbled something that sounded like "He's not going to like this," but let me go. I didn't see Jace as I left, and I didn't know if I was disappointed or grateful for that. What would I have said to him anyway?

I knew I shouldn't have driven home with my emotions running high and exhaustion settling deep into my bones, but the last thing I wanted to do was spend any more time in the city. I forced my mind to focus on the road in front of me as the sun dipped below the horizon instead of the shit show my life had become.

An unfamiliar car was parked in the driveway when I arrived back. My hand went for the gun in the center console as I pulled in, but I stopped when I recognized the figure sitting on the porch steps.

"Thought I might find you out here," Simon said as I approached him.

The wooden steps creaked under my weight. "I'm not exactly hiding," I responded, stepping around him to unlock the door.

He half scoffed, half snorted. "You coulda had me fooled. You said you weren't going to disappear again, Fray."

"Technically, I never said that." I struggled with the key in the lock but finally managed to get it open. "And I'm not disappearing."

"Really? Because you left without a word and have been ignoring all my calls and texts. Sounds pretty familiar to me," he said, following me into the house.

"I have a lot going on, Si." I threw my belongings on the entryway table. "In case you hadn't noticed."

"I know you do. That's why I'm here." He sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. "You don't have to go through this alone. I told you I'd be here for you."

We stepped into the living room. The same living room where we made blanket forts, perfected our hot chocolate recipe, and shared secrets.

"What if I'm meant to be alone?" I whispered. "I brought Jace into our lives, and I'm the reason Valentine's dead."

"Do you really believe that?" Simon asked.

I shrugged and stared at a stain on the carpet from when we'd spilled root beer floats during a night of marathoning the Star Wars movies when we were preteens. "Maybe if I'd just done something different it wouldn't have happened."

"From what I've heard about Jonathan Morgenstern, it would have happened anyway, and you can't blame yourself for that asshole Jace either." Simon placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "He was trained to get you to drop your guard and manipulate you. You can't blame yourself for that."

The guilt wouldn't stop nagging at me. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see and feel Valentine's blood soaking my hands as he took his final breaths.

"I'm really tired," I said, turning to face him. It wasn't a lie, and it gave me an out. "You can stay in the guest room since you drove all the way out here."

He smiled softly, rocking on his heels. "I'm actually staying with my mom, but I wanted to see you first and make sure you were okay. I'll stop by again tomorrow and we can get lunch or something. Talk things through."

I agreed, and we made plans to meet at a bougie little brunch place the next day. He left, and I sluggishly climbed the stairs, barely managing to change into pajamas before passing out.

The doorbell repeatedly ringing the next morning woke me up. I groaned and looked at the time. 8 A.M. I thought we had agreed to brunch. This was just normal breakfast time. The Simon I knew would never be up this early willingly. If that was something that had changed, we were going to need to set some serious boundaries concerning wakeup call times.

Still half asleep, I stumbled downstairs and threw open the door.

"Simon, it's way too—"

The words died on my lips. It wasn't Simon standing on my porch in the early morning light. It was Jace.

Lot of you were hurting for Clary last chapter, but things will be looking up soon.