Clary didn't know much about guns, but she was fairly sure that when they were being pointed at you, one was not typically supposed to break down into hysterical laughter. The atmosphere radiated with an intensity that made Clary's skin feel warm and her spine feel cold. It was inescapable, it was a bomb waiting to explode, it was a finger twitching upon a fatal trigger. Clary couldn't hold her laughter in, no matter how much the shrill echos of her voice against the silent corridor only further enhanced the atmosphere's suffocation. If she stopped laughing, she would be forced to confront the terrifying realization that she had walked right into a trap; one that she had no idea how to get out of. And so, she laughed.

In fact, she had been so busy laughing at the utter hopelessness of her situation that she hadn't noticed the man with the black eyes step closer. She was really off her game today. He looked at her, a sneer of disgust marring his face before he moved his attention solely to the shaking boy beside her. Despite the red pinpricks of semi-automatic rifles trained on her signaling that she was in deep shit, she couldn't help but be a little offended at the situation. As if it wasn't bad enough that the one time she tries to turn over a new leaf and trust people she ends up in a trap, it wasn't even a trap meant for her.

"Why is it that when I gave you explicit orders to deliver Herondale to me, instead you bring to me some pathetic mess of a girl?" He gave off the illusion of calm, but there was a clear undertone behind his words promising sweet nothings full of knives and blood. Hearing this mystery man speak was enough to instantly snap Clary out of her mirthful chuckles. She straightened defiantly. Alec flinched at the hissing of the formidable man who loomed over her. "Was Herondale too much of a challenge for you that you instead had to settle for some little girl?"

Clary's indignant scoff was ignored.

"I told you, she knows Jace. She could lead us to—"

"What use is another one of Herondale's whores?" He leaned in toward Alec with a cruel smirk."Was it asking too much of you to put aside your own personal history with Herondale and bring him in?"

"And here I was thinking we were growing to be great friends." At this, the man's head swiveled towards Clary for the first time. "Call me pathetic all you want, but I'm not the one who needs an army behind me to feel strong," she smirked with a wickedness powerful enough to make the devil blush. "Tell me, with your big army and your fancy guns, is it possible you're trying to overcompensate for something?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Clary could see the men training guns upon her stiffen, looking toward their leader for any indication to pull the trigger. Clary resisted the urge to swallow, instead locking her gaze with the black eyes that wereboring into her.

"And just who," he paused to take her in with a clearly unimpressed expression, "do you think you are?"

Clary ignored Alec's frantically shaking head and straightened before responding with a tone cold enough to bring an early winter, "My name is not little girl, but I'm the one who's going to make you regret you ever touched me."

The leader rose an eyebrow at her statement, casting another glance at Alec before striding toward Clary. Alec swallowed thickly, watching with wide eyed fear. 'I'm sorry', his lips mouthed. Clary looked away stonily, shifting her attention back upon the man who towered high above her.

"Alright then, little girl, if you want to act tough and play with the big boys, who am I to stop you? Where is your group?"

Clary clenched her jaw at the nickname, but otherwise showed no reaction. If she was going to stall until any of her companions realized what was going on, she would have to play it smart and not give in to what he wants. He wasn't the first to underestimate her based on her short stature and scrawny build. She would just need to make sure he wouldn't be the last.

"That's a fairly loaded question," she remarked airily with a slight shrug. "Spiritually? I've never been very religious, but who am I to totally disregard the possibility that God or whatever is with me, you know?"

The man smirked in a way which let Clary know he found absolutely none of her diatribe humorous before leaning in closer. His breath was raw and unpleasantly warm upon her face, like rotting garbage left lying in the sun on a particularly hot summer day.

"You're surrounded on all sides by some very frustrated men with guns who would love nothing more than to take their frustrations out on a little thing like you. Trust me when I tell you that Herondale may seem easy on the eyes, but he's not worth protecting. You might think he's coming to save you, but no matter how many sweet nothings he's whispered in your ear, the moment he catches wind of us he'll be looking to run and leaving you to pay the price for what he's done. Do yourself a favor and tell us what you know and not only will we let you go, but we'll have saved you from an inevitable heartbreak."

She looked up at him, remembering Jace running away from her so suddenly after spotting what she now suspected was the group before her. He had been so quick to leave without any explanation. Had Isabelle found him? Was he even around to find any longer? Was this what it had felt like when he had woken up to find she had left, robbing him in the process?

Clary let out a breath, unsure if what she was about to do was the right choice. She looked to the man and gestured for him to lean in closer.

"You're doing the right thing," he told her, his eyes hungry and gleaming as he lowered his figure to be face level with her. And, she knew he was right.

With a cursory glance around her at the surrounding crowd, she moved to whisper in his ear.

"I am not a whore."

Before he could react, she reeled backwards and spat in his face. An outraged roar echoed throughout the mall as he straightened, backhanding Clary so quickly that she didn't register the pain until she was sprawled upon the linoleum floor. Alec let out a small hiss in surprise, but made no move to help her. No one moved. The man returned his gaze to Alec, the fire in his eyes cooling to their original facade of calm.

"Now Alec, please explain—"

His words were cut short by the tiny redhead leaping up from the ground and clawing his face. A hush descended upon the crowd, all eyes locked upon their leader and the girl who dared. Slowly, disbelievingly, the man rose his digits to his face. They came away stained with red. He snapped his gaze back to Clary. The circle of backup had tightened around her, moving in to attack, with the closest one coming in to restrain her. Despite tasting blood in her mouth, she smirked.

She was on her feet, ducking underneath a pair of grasping arms before they could touch her. Another lunged for her, abandoning their weapons until given explicit orders for a more physical approach. She sidestepped, elbowing him in the back of the neck. He fell forward, barely catching himself. Another kick—followed by dodging another attacker—and he let out a heavy grunt.

Without having a chance to take a breath, two more descended upon her. She sidestepped the first man's fist flying toward her, only to be caught in the stomach by the next. She wheezed, biting her lip to conceal the pain radiating from her abdomen. Her gaze narrowed.

She sprang, faking an attack to one before striking the other. The second man whimpered as he doubled over, clutching at his stomach. She kicked out, blood splattering across the tile as her foot connected with his jaw. He screamed, his voice ringing and echoing. He fell feebly to the ground while Clary cursed. If Alec's screams had been enough to cause her worry over any potential zombies being drawn to the commotion, this certainly wasn't helping. In her moment of distraction, a dozen red dots trained themselves upon her. She stilled.

Her ribs ached and her face burned, but none of these caused her heart to drop like the sound of the man's slow, impressed applause. She swallowed, but didn't dare lower her gaze. The man's attention was fully on her now, with no sign of losing interest anytime soon.

"You're a fighter," he remarked, a hand upon his chin.

No longer was he underestimating her, said the hungry glint in his eyes. He appraised her small form like a new toy he couldn't play with, wondering what else it was that she could do. I'll show you exactly what it is I can do, the chaotic, conflict fueled piece of Clary's brain wanted to yell back. Another side of her, the more rational part, realized that nothing good could come from this.

Clary wasn't the only one to fully realize the implications of this newfound interest in her. Alec looked conflicted, warring with himself, before he spoke up tentatively. "When she came to the Victoria's Secret, there were two zombies that had me cornered. She took both of them down nearly singlehandedly without any weapons."

Clary scowled at him. At least he had the decency to look guilty. The man stroked his chin thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow at Clary.

"If you didn't have any weapons, how did you manage to kill them?"

She remained silent, lifting her chin stubbornly. With a wave of his hand and a rolling of his eyes, two men flanked her on both sides. Her feet lifted up from the ground as each took hold of an arm with bonebreaking strength. She felt something poking her back.

"God, I hope that's a gun," she muttered. The man smirked.

"Now, let's try this again. How did you kill them without any weapons?"

Through clenched teeth she responded, "I used a sports bra as a muzzle on the first one so that I could bash its skull in. The second one was killed with a high heel."

She watched him warily, hoping, praying, begging that he didn't realize that she had ommitted Isabelle from the story. He seemed too pleased with the information that she gave him to think much on it, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Hopefully by then, he would be nothing but a distant memory.

"I like you…" He paused, before turning to Alec once more. Alec sighed defeatedly.

"Clary. Her name is Clarissa Fray, but she goes by Clary."

The man turned back to her. "I like you, Clary. You're a fighter, a survivor. That's rare these days. In fact, you remind me of someone we used to know."

He turned to the group around him and asked in a booming voice that reminded Clary of someone who had had one too many drinks at the bar, "What do you say? Don't you think she reminds you of Kaelie?"

The group erupted into a chorus of rowdy cheering which was only halted by the thundercrack of a bullet whizzing through the air. Clary stiffened, tensing for the impact. It never came. She looked up. The man standing too close to her for comfort was grinning, looking upward as he held his hat in his hands. There was a distinct bullet sized hole within it that she could have sworn hadn't been there before. Her brow furrowed, realization settling in. Could it really be?

"What do you think Jace? Does she remind you of Kaelie too?"

Her head snapped upwards, searching desperately before she saw them. Perched on the second floor balcony, Jace stood as an avenging angel with Isabelle and Max flanking at his side. Four duffel bags lay at their feet, presumably full of weapons. Jace and Isabelle both had semi-automatic rifles of their own pointed towards the group, while Max stood armed with a small .45 caliber handgun. She doubted either Max or Isabelle knew how to operate a gun, but that was beside the point. She heard a sharp intake of breath from nearby, though she couldn't tell from who.

"Let her go, Valentine. She has nothing to do with any of this," Jace growled. Clary's attention turned back to him and she wondered how it had ever left. She couldn't help but flash back to when she had first met him. He had been so infuriatingly optimistic and plucky. Even when she had run away and stole his possessions, he hadn't looked as angry as he did now. She had never truly seen him anry before. Later, once the danger had passed and she was able to think more clearly, she would wonder whether the anger's source was from the rivalry between him and the leader or if she had something to do with it. But, that was a thought for later. That was a thought for when there wasn't a gun digging into her ribcage.

"You see Herondale, that's what I was thinking too, but then her and I got to talking and I have to say, you do have good taste. I was about ready to shoot her at first when Alec brought her to me instead of you. What a mistake that would be."

Clary was about to make a snide comment about being talked about as if she weren't there, but Isabelle dropping her gun stopped her. Her hands were clasped over her mouth and though Clary couldn't see very well from how far away she was, from the glow the moonlight cast upon her face, it looked as if there was something wet upon her cheeks. She wasn't looking at Clary, or Valentine. Her gaze was solely reserved for—

"Alec!" She cried. Clary couldn't tell if she was shocked or horrified. Max was shaking beside her, though he seemed more confused than anything.

"Izzy," the boy who had gotten her into this mess whispered painfully. "Max"

Her gaze snapped to him in shock. How did he know the two? How was it that—

Clary paused in her internal rambling as it slowly dawned on her why Alec had looked so familiar to her when she had first seen him coming out of the dressing room. It wasn't that she had recognized him as someone she knew before. She had recognized him from now. The black hair, the ivory skin, the tall and graceful figures. How had she not recognized him as a sibling of Isabelle and Max's right away?

Because life doesn't work that way, she reminded herself. At least, now it doesn't. You don't just get reunited with your family that you had thought was lost.

Except, it happened now.

"Alec, why are you with him? Why—why did you never come back for us. Max and I—we needed you and you weren't there. You…you…you were—" She broke off then, swallowing deeply. Jace's anger had faded into ache, but he still held his gun firm. It was only later, she knew, that he would allow himself to break.

"I—I'm sorry. This is where I have to be," he replied, though the words seemed to cut him up as he spoke them. Clary frowned. Something didn't seem right. She didn't have time to think on it before the man—Valentine—grasped her shoulder tightly.

"Get your hands off of her!" The fury was back and another shot went off. Clary flinched as it struck the fountain nearby, hitting the baby cupid directly in the heart.

"I'm disappointed in you Jace," Valentine drawled cooly. "You leave so suddenly, stealing from your only family, and continually try to hide from us as if we wouldn't catch up to you. That's no way to treat those who took you in as one of our own. And now, you won't even let us get to know the young girl who you seem to be reacting so strongly to?"

There was a sharp pounding sound that echoed throughout the corridor, though Clary couldn't tell where it was coming from amidst the heated battle. A quick, cursory glance around showed that nobody else seemed to have noticed the sound. All eyes were on Jace and Valentine.

"I was never your family!"

Bang! Bang! Bang! BANG!

The crashing was getting louder, more frantic. It pulsed like a beating heart. Were those chains she heard rattling?

"Oh, but you were! Though you don't want to admit it, you were one of us, just as Kaelie was, and as you could still be. All of you."

Clary felt Valentine's gaze return to her pointedly, but she wasn't focused on him. Her blood had run cold for an entirely different reason.

"Like hell we will. Now, I will say this again. Let. Her. Go."

The glass double doors of the mall shook as a herd of zombies pushed against it.

Bang! Bang! Bang! BANG!

Her worst fears had been realized and when the door broke down—which it would—none of them would stand a chance. Not against that many. Not unless—her gaze flickered across the corridor, weighing the distance between her and the stairwell. It was risky, but—

"You aren't exactly in a position to be making demands, Herondale. However, we'll consider letting Clary go if you return to us what you took."

Clary had just enough time to see a conflicted expression befall the golden boy. She had just enough time to realize how screwed they all were as she took in a breath. Before she could talk herself out of it, she bit down on her captor's hand. Hard. He released a shriek, but she refused to let go. Better to act like a zombie now than to end up like one later, she reminded herself. Finally, he ripped his hand away from her, freeing her from his grasp. She dropped to the ground gracefully and swung out her leg. The two others holding her fell, but her attention wasn't on them. Clary snatched the fallen rifle out of the air before it could hit the ground. Immediately, she spun on her heel, pointing the gun at the group while cautiously stepping backwards.

Despite her pointing a gun at him, Valentine smiled. He held up a hand to the rest of his group.

"Stand down," his eyes never left Clary's. "I'm looking forward to when we meet again, Clarissa."

Like hell we will, she thought with a grimace.

"I wouldn't count on it," Clary responded. Her hands gripped the gun tighter as she continued to back away. Just a little bit further and then…

She cocked the gun, releasing a shaky breath. I need a headstart, she reminded herself. I need to make sure they don't follow us. She heard Alec's voice realising what she was about to do, but it was already too late.

It was too late for them all.

Clary pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot was followed by the shattering of glass. She turned then, bolting up the stairs as if her life depended on it. Because she had just ensured that it did.

"Run!" She shouted to the trio waiting for her, though her voice was drowned out by another sound. The sound she had long grown familiar with. It was neither a growl nor a moan, but rather something inbetween. Something that had its own flavor, its own distinct pierce as it rang and groaned like the choking of a faulty engine, the churning of gravel and glass, and the desperate squeals of those trying desperately to hang on to life.

It was the sound of death; it was the sound of a life that was taken, just as they too could be taken at any given moment. It was the sound that they would one day hear, suspended above their tired, broken bodies just before they are ripped into and torn apart. It was the sound of the doorway shattering, allowing the herd inside. It was the sound of her heart thumping against her chest as she once again crawled for her life for as long as she could in the same desperate manner that the monsters below crawled for her flesh. They were all just struggling to survive.

And, as Clary pumped her arms faster to carry her to salvation, she hoped she survived long enough to figure out what the hell just happened.


Someone asked if Malec was going to be a thing in this story. The answer is definitely yes, though Magnus won't appear for a bit for reasons you'll discover in the next chapter. Next chapter is super long, like 6,000 words long and for some reason you guys review a lot less for the longer chapters, so I'll probably break it up. You ready for the first Jace flashback? Maybe even some Clace and a killer ending on the side? Well then you should review.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

-Anika