The doors of the New York Institute slammed open with a deafening bang, sending echoes ricocheting through the grand hall. Cold night air and the faint scent of burning ichor clung to Jace as he strode inside, his arms wrapped tightly around you—limp, feverish, barely conscious. Blood seeped through the fabric of your shirt, staining his fingers, but worse than the wound itself was the eerie black veins spiderwebbing out from it, pulsing with sickly dark energy.

"A little help here?" Jace barked, his voice sharper than a blade, but edged with something dangerously close to panic.

Footsteps pounded against the marble floors as Alec and Isabelle rushed into the foyer. Isabelle’s dark eyes widened at the sight of you.

"By the Angel—what happened?"

"Demon poison," Jace ground out, shifting you carefully in his grip. "Lesser demon ambush. The thing got a good hit in before I killed it." His jaw tightened. "It wasn’t a normal wound, Izzy. The poison’s spreading fast."

Alec swore under his breath. "We need to get them to the infirmary. Now."

Isabelle was already moving, her boots clicking against the floor as she ran ahead, throwing open the doors to the Institute’s medical wing. Jace carried you inside, carefully lowering you onto one of the pristine white beds, but his hands lingered for a second longer than necessary, his fingers pressing against your wrist, feeling the weak, uneven pulse beneath your skin.

"Stay with me," he murmured, almost too low to hear.

Your head lolled to the side, breath shallow, skin clammy. The pain was unbearable—a deep, gnawing burn, as if something alive and malevolent was writhing beneath your skin. The black veins pulsed again, and you let out a choked whimper.

Jace’s expression darkened. "Where’s Magnus?"

"On his way," Isabelle answered, already pulling out her stele. "We can slow the spread, but we need warlock magic to purge the poison completely."

Jace nodded, stepping back just enough to let her work, but his golden eyes never left your face.