Let's just say I just typed this. Literally started after the last update. ANNND I didn't reread it. Sorry if there are loads and loads of mistakes. I tried to post it as fast as possible. So here you go, your second update in one day. Lucky you ;) haha enjoy

Jace was the first off the bus, flying into the busy New York traffic without worrying about how he was bumping into or whether they were okay. Jace saw Clary had gotten a text a 3 in the morning to meet Valentine at Pandemonium, so that was his first destination. He wove his way through downtown, having memorized the way long ago, in a past life, when he lived for the party and the attention. Now he only lived for the girl, and he couldn't let her die. He just couldn't. He needed her. She had maneuvered her way into his steel-plated heart and sewed together the brokenness of all that he was. She made him feel alive. And he couldn't lose that. He couldn't return to the boy he was. He couldn't lose another person that he loved. He shoved aside the memory of his mother's glassy eyes, of her unmoving face.

He was already hours behind her. He could feel it. He urged his legs to move faster, his arms to pump harder. Left, right, left right. His chest was on fire, his lungs barely able to inhale, but he didn't slow down, didn't yield to the pain. He needed her. Needed her in his arms. Needed her to be okay. He skidded around a corner, speeding up when his destination came into view. One hundred feet. Fifty feet. Twenty-five feet. He hurdled through the door of the building as a bloodcurdling scream pierced his ears.

X.O.X.O.X

Clary ground her teeth as the knife plunged into her thigh. Over the past few hours, Clary had found that it was easier to deal with the pain if she didn't allow it to hurt her. She didn't think, didn't move, didn't few. It was almost as if she were already dead. Her mother was limp in the corner, her head lolled to one side as her arms were shackled to the wall behind her.

"Clarissa. You will not disrespect me in that manner. Ever. Do I make myself clear?" Clary didn't look at him, didn't respond, didn't even give the slight inclination that she was listening. She'd stopped conversing with him when he refused to release her mother.

"I came!" she had cried. "What more do you want from me?" He'd grinned wickedly as he clamped the shackles around her wrists and ankles.

"My sweet, naïve Clarissa. I love the way that so readily trusted me. It's makes this even more satisfying. I had no idea where you were, no way of tracing you, yet you came to me. The way you thought I'd actually needed you on my side. As if your frailness would be any asset to what I already have. It's just so perfect. Don't you see? You and your mother will both die, and with your honorable death, you will purify the Morganstern bloodline."

Clary snapped back to present as her father paced over to her mother. He kicked her in the ribs, and she made a noise of pain, followed by spitting blood onto his shoes. "The only reason I don't regret sleeping with you is because I got Clary," she growled as he disgustedly wiped his shoe across her shirt with another kick.

"Your insubordination angers me, Jocelyn," he sneered, reaching in his pocket for his blade and driving it into her shoulder.

"MOM!" Clary cried out, completely forgetting about her vow of silence.

Valentine jeered in her direction. "And as for you. The cleansing of the bloodline begins now." Clary didn't have time to be afraid before the bloodied knife plunged into her stomach. She didn't even hear her mother's scream.

X.O.X.O.X

Jace held a jagged piece of glass in his fist, clinging to it so tightly it drew blood from his palm. It was his only weapon, the only thing he could use to defend Clary. Pandemonium had been vacated. All the furniture was gone. All traces of the old nightclub were gone.

He edged toward the origin of the scream, pressing himself flat against the wall next to the door, surprised when it flew open and nearly hit him in the face. The man who walked out surprised him even more. From behind, he could have just been a stranger, anyone, with blood stains on his clothes and shoes and a knife in his hand, but as Jace caught a glimpse of his profile, rage immediately flooded his chest. Though the brown hair was now blond, Jace could see it. Michael Wayland. His father. The creator of the scars across his skin. "Father," he growled, tucking the glass behind him as Michael whirled to face him.

"Jace," he glowered, holding out the s noise like a snake. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same thing." Michael smirked, venom in his smile.

"That wouldn't be in your best interest."

Jace exploded. "God damn you! You're a f***ing murderer! Don't think for a second that I don't remember the fact that you killed my mom. Don't even kid yourself that every atom in my body doesn't hate you. Do you think I'm stupid?! I know that you're hurting people down there. You have blood on your clothes for God's sake. It's not rocket science." Michael was suddenly in his face, a knife pressed against his throat

"I told you, son," he spat the word as if it were a curse, "it would not be in your best interest to concern yourself with my affairs.

Jace laughed, oddly courageous in this crisis. Clary was down in that basement, alive or dead. She needed Jace, and he'd be damned if the sorry excuse of a man was about to stop him. "You picked the wrong victim, Valentine." His eyes grew in shock as Jace said his real name. "You don't get to kill the people I love. Instead, it is you, that will die today." Jace slid the glass into Valentine's back, the spot where if it went in deep enough, it would pierce the heart. Valentine's eyes went wide with shock, and Jace saw something that left him satisfied—betrayal. He let Valentine's body slump to the floor, not waiting long enough to see if he was actually dead. He heard the sirens outside. He'd called the police before coming into the building, and he knew they'd be storming the building shortly. They could take care of Valentine.

He threw himself down the stairs, hurdling headfirst into the darkness. He fumbled for a light switch, finding one and illuminating the horrifying scene. Jocelyn held Clary's head in her lap, as best as she could with both of them shackled to the wall. Clary's eyes were closed, face ghostly pale. Jocelyn was coated in blood, but somehow Jace knew it wasn't all her own. He threw himself down on the floor next to Clary and felt for a pulse. He couldn't find one. His eyes met Jocelyn's, and she confirmed what he already knew. Clary was gone. I slammed his fist into the wall. He wished he'd mutilated Valentine, hurt him so badly that nobody would know it was him. He wished he'd kept him alive and tortured him, seeing the realization of what he'd done play across his features as the life was slowly drawn from him. He'd been too damn humane. He collapsed into a pile next to the two redheads, the ones who looked as if they could be sisters.

"You loved her, didn't you?" Jocelyn asked quietly through tears, her puffy eyes never leaving Clary's still face.

"I still do," Jace said, engulfing Clary's hand in his big one. She was so cold, stiff. He saw her shirt was soaked in blood, the knife wound in her stomach. It was still bleeding. Unthinkingly, Jace removed his shirt and began to bind her wounds. She was so frail, so weak. She didn't deserve this. Jocelyn watched in silence, her shaky breath the only sound in the basement. Tears poured from his eyes, mixing with the blood on his hands as he wiped them away. A raw sob escaped his throat as he buried his face into Clary's curls, releasing his sadness into the red tendrils he loved so much. Jocelyn moved Clary's head into Jace's lap, retreating as far away as possible to give him some privacy. He calmed himself enough to press his cheek to hers.

"I forgive you, Testarossa. I forgive you. Just please. Please come back to me." Another sob broke free of his chest. "You said you wanted me to live a happy life. Clary, I can't be happy without you. I need you. Just come back to me, Clary." He brushed some hair off her forehead and placed a kiss on the center of it, his body violently racking with sobs. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, baby. We were supposed to get married, have kids, grow old together." He babbled, wondering where the damn paramedics were. "You can't leave me. Not now. Not ever." He pressed his cheek to her face again and felt something that made his heart flutter. It was the subtlest of motions, but somehow, it gave him hope. Clary's fingers had twitched inside of his.