moira | alec lightwood

1

zee morgenstern

I stared at the bright light shining on me from the ceiling of my cell. My wrists were clamped on the arms of the chair I was restrained to. My wrists were sore, along with my body. I was thirsty and I desperately needed a shower. I smelt like sweat, blood and dirt. I could feel the dry blood on my face and stained all over my clothes. I was dying for a long shower and to scrub away any trace of those men on me. I was tired of sitting in a cell all day.

Father said the main goal was to get in and form relationships. Get them to trust me. Make them believe I was rebelling against everything I've ever known for the greater good.

I had perfected my plan; swoop in, save their lives and they'd take me in as a person of suspicion. They would interrogate me but they wouldn't throw me in a cell. I would find Jace Wayland and have him vouch for me. They'd see that I had saved their lives and give me a place to stay here. After a while of helping them out and pretending to be their friend all while secretly deceiving them would get me on their good side.

I had thought about every aspect. Every man I killed to "save their lives" was expendable. They had either disrespected my parents or crossed my father the wrong way. He had carefully picked who would go on that team to go retrieve Clary Fray. Their days were numbered the moment they were put on the team.

I told Father multiple times they would be skeptical if they knew my name. But he said the entire part of the job was for them to believe that a Morgenstern turned on her own family. I was fully prepared to use my mother's maiden name and go completely undercover. But, of course he had to make this job harder for me.

And not only him. My jaw clenched at the thought. The tall one of the group went on and on about how I was not to be trusted. He was the reason why they threw me into this cell. Was he wrong? Not exactly. But, would I have preferred not to be thrown in a cell, restrained so tightly to a chair that I could feel every pull in my muscles? Most definitely.

My blood boiled. I'd give anything to be face to face with him. I longed to smash my face into his jaw again and again until he couldn't speak.

Maybe that was a little excessive.

It's fine. I would have plenty of time to beat him senseless after I've gotten what I came for.

The door of my cell opened for the first time since I've been here. The four Shadowhunters from before entered the room, minus the mundane.

I took a glance at them. "You know, typically during a interrogation— there's not usually this many people."

"Shut up." The tall one stopped before me, crossing his arms over his chest. He towered over me even more than he did outside because of how I was restrained and sitting.

"Well— that's no way to treat a guest, now is it?" The corner of my mouth quirked up, staring at him from under the eyelashes.

"You're no guest." He narrowed his eyes down at me. His muscles were tense and rigid, his body completely still. "If you were, you wouldn't be locked up."

"You're right." I pondered, leaning my head back against the seat but maintaining eye contact with him. "I could use a better room. And a shower. Maybe some fresh clothes— your hospitality is oh so kind-"

This time he smiled down at me out of mockery. "Only the best for delinquents."

I shot him a fake smile in return before looking between them all. "Who the hell are you?"

"Jace Wayland." The blond Shadowhunter beside him introduced himself. The gleam in his eyes showed me he recognized me. It had been years but when he laid eyes on me after I slaughtered the entire team of Circle Members, I knew I didn't even need to introduce myself for him to know me. I knew he would believe me. "Do you remember me?"