My brush glided over the canvas as I worked on touching up the angel painting the next morning. As usual, I had found things to hate about my own work, like the colors not being quite right or the lines not clean enough.

I had just dipped a new brush into some paint when my phone started vibrating in my pocket. I frowned at the unknown number but answered anyway, placing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I went back to my painting. Agent Lightwood had a bad habit of calling me from different phones.

My hand paused when a recording about a collect call came over the speaker instead of Lightwood's voice. I hesitated but knew my brother wouldn't give up if I said no. Reluctantly, I set the brush back down and pressed the button indicating I agreed to the charge.

"I'm surprised you accepted on the first try," Jonathan greeted.

"And I'm surprised it took you this long to reach out," I responded, my fingers tightening on the phone.

"It's all part of the fun, isn't it, dear sister? I keep you waiting and guessing, wondering when I will strike next."

"Is that what you're planning? To strike?" I asked.

"I know you talked, Clarissa." His tone was deceivingly neutral. "Did you think I would ignore that little fact? And let's not forget about Mr. Herondale, either."

I tensed at the mention of Jace and decided to skirt around that specific subject to keep Jonathan's mind on me. "So what, Johnny? Are you planning to have someone take me out? Do you even have anyone in your pocket anymore? Anyone you can trust after what Seb and Aline did?"

There was silence on the other end, and I had to check that we were still connected.

"What did Sebastian and Aline do?" he eventually asked, sounding genuinely confused and concerned.

Now it was my turn to be confused. If he knew I had cooperated with the feds, how could he not know about what those two had done? "You don't know?"

"What did they do, Clarissa?" he demanded.

I let out a laugh. I couldn't believe I got to be the one to tell him. "I wasn't the only one who got played, Johnny. Your little plaything and Sebastian were double-crossing you the whole time. All those intercepted shipments? It was them."

"You're lying." There was a panicked edge to his voice.

"Oh, but I'm not." I couldn't keep the grin off my face, and I hoped he could hear it. "I cannot believe no one told you yet."

He swallowed audibly and pulled himself back together. "Do not think this makes you safe, Clarissa. I will find someone else. Who knows when or where they will decide to pay you a visit. You can't hide away at Jocelyn's forever."

"I'll be sure to keep an eye out then," I said, hanging up before he could say anything else. Ending the conversation before he was done would surely piss him off, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

While I refused to be intimidated by him, I found myself wishing I had been more involved in The Circle for the first time. Or at least more aware of its members and everyone connected to it. If Jonathan didn't even know about Sebastian and Aline's betrayal, then things might have been worse for him than I thought. But I also didn't know how far reaching his network was or how easily Sebastian could be replaced. Jonathan could have more people waiting in the ranks, and I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that fell over me. Especially since he knew I where I was, which meant he already had eyes on me somehow.

I was back in the warehouse, staring down the barrel of Jonathan's gun. Valentine's lifeless body was behind me, but my brother and I were not alone. Jace stood next to me, his hands raised in the air in surrender.

"It's not her you want to kill," Jace said calmly, almost like he had accepted his fate. "It's me."

"What? No!" I shouted, but my voice sounded muffled, as if I were yelling underwater instead of through open air. Neither man looked like he'd heard me.

Jonathan cocked his head to the side and turned his attention to Jace even though his weapon remained trained on me.

"You love her enough to die for her. If I kill her, you will never recover," he stated. "You would rather die than live without her."

"Yes. Shoot me and let her live," Jace pled.

A sinister smile spread across my father's face. "My grievances are not with you, Agent Herondale. What will cause my sister the most pain? Bleeding out for a few minutes from a measly gunshot wound or watching you die and having to live out the rest of her years knowing it was all her fault?"

Jonathan moved the gun so it was pointed at Jace, and I tried to scream but no sound came out. I tried to move, to put myself between the gun and Jace, but my feet wouldn't cooperate.

Time slowed down as Jonathan's finger squeezed the trigger. There was a flash as the bullet escaped. A splash of red as it entered Jace's chest. My mouth opened in a silent scream and I watched his body fall to the ground, going as still as my father's. Two red puddles merged into one.

I turned to go after my brother, but he'd vanished. A weight filled my right hand, and I looked down to find the still smoking gun in my hand.

I shot up, a cold sweat gleaming on my skin, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and tears dampening my cheeks. My eyes frantically scanned my surroundings. I was in my bed. Not the warehouse. I was alone. No Jonathan or dead bodies. But the panic still had an iron grip on my hammering heart.

I flicked on the side table lamp and grabbed my phone, quickly dialing the one number I needed.

"Hello?" Jace answered after the third ring. His voice was thick with sleep.

My muscles relaxed and a small sob escaped my throat. I knew it was a dream, but everything had seemed so real. The feeling of dread that had taken up residence in my bones refused to leave until I heard his voice.

"Clary?" He was alert now. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?"

I sniffled, running a hand down my face. "It was just a bad dream. We were in the warehouse and Jonathan. . . He shot—" I dissolved into tears again.

"Shh. It's okay. You're okay," he soothed. "I'll be right there."

"Aren't you—"

"No." I heard the rustling of sheets and clothes in the background. "I've been staying in town in case you needed me. I'll be there in ten minutes."

I made two cups of tea by time Jace knocked on the door. Jocelyn had been a firm believer in the healing power of herbal tea, and she would always make me some after a night of bad dreams. The familiar scent of ginger and honey was calming.

Jace, dressed in a pair of track pants and a pullover hoodie, took one look at my watery eyes and pulled me into a tight hug. I stiffened at first but relaxed into the warmth of his arms, letting the comforting scent of sandalwood and sunshine envelope me. I led him to the couch and coffee table, where I set the cups of tea. The box of photos still sat on the surface, and I pushed it to the side. Leaning against the cushions, I picked up my cup and took a sip of the honey-sweetened liquid.

"Sorry for waking you," I said quietly. The clock told me it was just after four in the morning, and I felt guilty for disrupting his sleep, especially considering the trivial reason for it.

He sat on the opposite end of the couch and shook his head. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you called. Do you want to talk about it?"

Jace listened patiently as I recalled my dream, a fresh round of tears coming when I reached the end. He kept his distance for the most part, only placing a hand on my knee and rubbing light circles with his thumb.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," he assured me. "Have you been having nightmares regularly?"

I shook my head and looked down at my cup of tea. My dreams hadn't exactly been pleasant recently, but they weren't this bad. It was usually just that one night playing over again, not something new like it had been tonight.

"Do you know what brought it on tonight, then?" he asked.

I chewed my lip, debating if I should tell him. "My brother called this morning," I whispered.

Jace set his cup down, the ceramic clattering against the table. "Did you tell Alec?"

I shrugged. "Didn't think I needed to. Aren't those calls monitored or something?"

"Recorded, yes, but most prisons don't have the staff necessary to monitor calls twenty-four-seven," Jace explained. "What did he have to say?"

I drummed my fingers against the cup, trying to calm myself down. I wasn't concerned about what my brother had said about me, but Jace was another story. "What you'd expect. To watch my back because he's not happy I spoke with the FBI. And you. Jonathan knows you're a rat." I took a deep breath. "You've been so worried about me, but what about you? You're on his list, too."

He chuckled, squeezing my knee. "He might be off his rocker, but I don't think even he's stupid enough to go after law enforcement, present or former. Besides, I've been keeping an eye on things and can handle myself."

"But when I say that everybody continues to baby me," I grumbled.

"You haven't gone through the same training I have, love."

The nickname tugged on my heart, but I kept my face neutral as I toyed with a loose thread on my pajamas. "Is that why you've been staying in town?"

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Clare," he said earnestly.

"I don't think Jonathan's gonna try anything," I replied. "I don't even know if he has the manpower anymore with everyone either in custody or scattered."

Jace bobbed his head, his eyes casting over to the box. "So you looked through all of it, then?"

Reaching over around him, I dragged the box closer to us. "I did, but I wouldn't mind going through it again with you here."

When going through the photos by myself, I'd only been given short snippets of insight into Jace's life. With him sitting next to me, I could get the full story, and it would be a welcome distraction from Jonathan's call and my nightmare.

Jace placed the box in his lap. I had returned the photos to it as I'd viewed them, so the photo of us at Coney Island sat on top. He gingerly picked it up, a smile matching the one in the photo on his face.

"This is one of my favorites," he said softly. "You were so happy and carefree that day. I rarely get to see you like that, but I love it when I do."

Everything with Valentine and Jonathan—the secrets, lies, and threats—had weighed on me, making it difficult to let go and just enjoy life. I hadn't realized he'd noticed, though. With everything that had happened, who knew when he'd get to see me that way again?

It was weird flipping through Jace's life in reverse order. After the Coney Island photo, he told me all about Alec, Magnus, and Isabelle. He'd met Alec during one of their first college courses, and they'd hit it off well. Apparently, Alec had been painfully shy, but Jace helped him come out of his shell. Too bad he hadn't managed to make Alec any less of an asshole. Along with Alec came his then-boyfriend and his sister, and the four of them were thick as thieves. They did everything together from ski vacations in Vermont to weekly drinks at a local bar.

When we got to the high school photos, Jace recounted some of his more wild adventures. While the photos made him appear to be a golden child with both his knack for athleticism and high intelligence, even Jace had not been immune to the siren call of teenage rebellion. He had all the typical stories of getting caught underage drinking, skinny dipping at pool parties, and skipping classes to hang out with friends.

While talking about his younger years, he skipped over his dad for the most part, only really talking about his mom. It wasn't something I could blame him for. I knew all too well how raw the pain could still be even years and years later.

After looking at the photo from his birth, he closed the box. "I meant what I said, Clare. I want you to know me."

"I'm beginning to see that I do," I admitted.

He set the box back on the table and turned to me, taking one of my hands in his. "I know you said you need more time, but I was hoping to take you somewhere this weekend."

I scoffed. Was he being serious? "A weekend getaway isn't going to fix anything, Jace."

"Not a getaway," he said with a shake of his head. "I want you to meet my mom."