Hello again!

We are almost done the Flashback chapters! One more to go!

(I think once the last Flashback is posted, I will shuffle the chapters around so the Flashbacks are in chronological order at the beginning of the story, like how I did in Morgenstern Girl… So, if you see a change that is why. I think that will make more sense for you readers. :) )

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments.

FLASHBACK 4: THE GUARD

No matter how many childhood years he had spent living in Alicante, Giuseppe could never get over how oddly quiet this city was at night.

Where Naples was always alive, bustling with feverish energy and sound, Alicante was a steady pillar of calm. It was barely after 8 o'clock and the streets were totally clear, this evening. Of course, in any other city, the thought of navigating the streets at night would have been dangerous, deadly even, but there was something distinctly peaceful about the darkness that settled over Alicante. Giuseppe had spent his walk to the Guard in uninterrupted silence. The only illumination that cut the shadows was streaming from the widows of the elegant townhouses lining the street.

More than once, Giuseppe's gaze had wandered through the windows, catching a glimpse of the happy families congregating within – and the sight had filled him so much crippling remorse that he had almost turned around and went back home. But the importance of this mission forced him forward through the cobblestone path, against his own grief.

The faster he got to the Guard, the faster he could collect Jada.

Then – maybe then – he would finally be able to sleep at night, knowing she was back with Theo and Rosalina – knowing she was safe. The thought was a tiny beacon of hope. He had not slept since the night he got that terrible call, two weeks ago. A call from Riccardo's apprentice, of all people, telling him what had happened to the Buonavento parents.

Giuseppe had stumbled through the last few weeks half-awake – trying to relocate to Alicante as fast as he could, trying to take care of little Theo as best he could – but Jada was the last piece of the puzzle that had been painfully, evidently, missing.

Even so, he still couldn't decide whether he wanted to lecture Jada till he was blue or praise her when he next saw her.

When he had heard that Jada had gone after the pack leader alone – after being refused aid from the Clave, no less – he had been tormented with a splitting mixture of righteous parental fury and overwhelming, heart-wrenching pride.

It was hard to believe that she had really done it – really killed Italy's head pack leader. Jada had always been an exceptional Shadowhunter, but this –

This was legendary.

The elation had only lasted as long as it had taken for Argyle to explain that Jada had been bitten by the pack leader's mate. To explain that she was now imprisoned in the Guard, waiting for the full moon to pass and seal her almost inevitable destiny.

As far as Rosalina, his wife, was concerned, the news was a fate worse than death. Rosalina had sympathized with the Circle from the beginning, was always suspicious of Downworlders, so to hear her goddaughter might become one… It had been crippling to bear.

Giuseppe had tried to assure her that Jada might have beaten the disease – fought off the lycanthropy infection – but his argument had been weak, even to his own ears. He had known just as well as she did, just how low the chances of that were. Jada's parents, Riccardo and Maria, had made enough allies in Downworld through their medical career, so it was likely that if the worst was to happen, Jada would be better off than most. But she would still be cast out of the city, taken from what was left of her family, be forced to join a pack in the countryside, if the Clave even allowed her to stay in Idris…

The possibilities were too awful to think about.

For two weeks, all he could focus on was how and when he would be able to bring Jada home. But now that the Guard was in sight, he was suddenly unsure of what to feel.

He stared at the open mouth of the Guard's doorway as if it were a dark portal leading directly to Hell. Part of him hesitated, not sure if he was ready to see her, but he did not get much on an opportunity to decide.

Unexpectedly, he heard Jada before he saw her – not in the sound of clicking high heels that he normally associated with her – but in the harsh clattering of metal.

When she emerged from the shadows of the entryway, he saw the source of the noise: thick silver manacles binding her wrists, a length of chain rattling from them like cacophonic wind chimes.

There should have been no woman on earth that could maintain the regality of an empress in Jada's current situation – but as she stood poised in the gaping doorway, it was all he could think of. Though she was barefoot and chained, clothed in nothing more than what looked like a plain white hospital gown, she may as well have been wearing coronation robes.

She was so different than he remembered, and yet so strangely the same.

Even at the tender age of nineteen, she had almost lost the girlish softness of her youth. It was easier to see her father in her now, peeking through in the elegant high cheekbones and that haughty set to her jaw. She shared Riccardo's warm brown eyes, the same glowing skin and tumbling raven hair, and Giuseppe tried to ignore how painful it was to see her there. A shadow of his fallen parabatai, both close enough to touch and yet still so hopelessly distant.

"Jada," he cried, rushing toward her. A sudden crippling lightning bolt of pain shot up his side, and he shuddered to a halt at the base of the stairs. Giuseppe bent over his silver-handled cane, grimacing at the pain. Despite the years that passed, he still seemed to forget the injury that had left his leg permanently damaged – and occasionally, the residual side-effects still managed to surprise him.

But when he finally looked up at her, face-to-face, he saw something more shocking than any pain.

Jada – calm, cool, collected Jada – harshly jumped back from him, then, wearing an expression close to... fear.

It made a shiver of warning trickle down his spine like ice water.

This was the same Jada who willingly stormed a werewolves' den to avenge her parents. He never knew her to 'fear' anything… Some part of him wanted to categorize the erratic behavior as grief, but when he looked up at Jada again, he knew it wasn't the case.

His second glance was like a blow to the head – almost rocking him off balance.

Giuseppe's body halted in place.

He had not noticed on first sight, but several, hand-shaped bruises trailed up the side of her arms – the marks made glaring and grisly against the pale fabric of her white dress.

Another one purpled the line of her jaw like a curl of smoke. A few half-healed gashes scattered across her legs and arms.

Injuries that could have been patched up with iratzes, but hadn't been.

Giuseppe reeled.

He had heard the rumors about the inhumane treatment of prisoners of the Guard, but, like most Shadowhunters, had chosen not to believe them. Now that the proof was staring him in the face, he was starting to understand why Rosalina had wanted to reform the Clave with the Circle so adamantly. What had made her hate her own government so much.

This was appalling.

Hell, Giuseppe was almost ready to join the Circle himself, for what he suspected the Clave had done to Jada in the Guard – but the only thing stopping him from actually doing it was Riccardo.

His parabatai had always viewed the Circle as his arch-nemesis, his greatest enemy. And Giuseppe couldn't shake the ominous sense that if he ever tried joining, Riccardo would have clawed his way back from the grave with the express purpose of kicking his ass.

Jada had always been so keenly intelligent, such an expert at reading human emotion – and Giuseppe had never been very clever at concealing his. In a single glance, his goddaughter seemed to see through him as easily as glass. Her eyes darkened a fraction before she quickly looked past him, dodging his response to her injuries.

"Zio," she greeted cautiously, searching past him in the square. "I didn't think you would be coming…"

Giuseppe knew who she had been expecting to come: Argyle. Riccardo's apprentice.

The thought made him wince.

He supposed they only had Rosalina to blame, for why he was not here. His wife had despised Argyle from the first time she set eyes on him, and, unsurprisingly, their first meeting had resulted in Rosalina screaming a mouth-full at him. In her mind, Jada's werewolf bite was his fault, caused by his Downworld-loving views and his own, pitiful inability as a warrior.

It had been a heavy guilt for Giuseppe to bear, when he had realized that Argyle had agreed with Rosalina, in a way. That Silverspear man carried the weight of Jada's imprisonment as if it was him who put her there. As if he was the one who had bit her.

Part of him had wanted Argyle to fight back – honestly, it was probably what Rosalina needed to hear – but Argyle did not seem to be the aggressive type. He had taken Rosalina's verbal onslaught with his head patiently bowed. Silently carrying the weight of the burden on his own, regardless of whether he deserved it or not.

Giuseppe was about to explain the situation to Jada when another shadow emerged from the Guard's entrance, joining them on the terrace.

It was a tall, ruddy-haired man who slipped from the doorway next to her, draped in the black robes reserved for the dignitaries of the Clave. His kind face regarded Jada with vague familiarity, as if he had seen her once or twice before.

Jada pried her gaze away from Giuseppe to survey the official with a look of stubborn impatience.

"I did my part," she announced, extending her bound wrists to him. "I spent two weeks waiting for the full moon to pass in the Guard." When the official hesitated to near her, she shook the manacles insistently. "You know I did not contract the lycanthropic disease; there is no reason to keep me restrained."

The relief was so overwhelming that it momentarily numbed him.

So she had not contracted the disease, after all, Giuseppe wondered. She hadn't gone through the werewolf transformation...?

"O - Of course, Miss Buonavento," the official offered, reaching into his draping sleeve. As he produced his stele, Giuseppe couldn't help but notice the anxiety layered beneath his thin smile. His stele, when he touched the tip of it to her manacles, was shaking like a leaf in high wind. "No offense intended. It was just a formality, of course…"

In a single, scrolling wave of the instrument, a Rune flared like fire-ink across the metal. The cuffs quickly fell off Jada's arms and clattered to the marble steps, like bizarrely constructed plates of silver armor. She rubbed the once-bound skin of her wrist with an imperious sniff, glaring at the abandoned chains by her feet with icy disdain.

"Thank you," she stiffly replied, turning away from the man. Not looking back, she started to descend the terrace stairs, her dark hair shimmering down her shoulders like bouncing ripples of silk. "If that is all, I will just be needing the results of my medical examinations; the documents to prove I was cleared of lycanthropy. Then I will be on my way."

The Clave official looked suddenly uncomfortable.

"I'm afraid..." he interjected, "that I need one more thing from you, before I can do that." Jada spun around to face him in a terrifying slow circle. Silent fury seemed to spark from her stiff body like electricity in a churning thundercloud. The man seemed to register her displeasure and hastily carried on. "There is some unfinished business concerning the pack leader's death. Since the pack leader broke the Accords in killing your parents, you are entitled to spoils. All of his finances, lands, titles… They are now yours."

Using what looked like a fair bit of self-control, Jada forcibly reigned in her temper.

"I knew that," she answered evenly. "And the Clave has already acknowledged that they would honor their end of the bargain… What seems to be the matter?"

The man winced. "As you know, it is customary to pass on a portion of the spoils, back to the Council. The Clave needs a signature from you, agreeing to turn over the ten percent of your earnings…"

Something in the official's words struck Jada eyes like a match, making them blaze with ferocious light.

Silence hung for a moment, darkening the space between them.

"So," she stated with chilling rage, "After refusing to help avenge my parents' death, trying to murder my little brother, and imprisoning me, the Clave still wants their tithe?" The official's face paled to a striking shade of white against his dark robes. "Tell me," she spat, with enough venom to make him cower away from her. "Is this is Clave's idea of honor?"

Gobsmacked, the man glanced ashamedly to his feet. His short cropped hair glowed like a copper helmet in the residual lantern-light.

Collecting herself, Jada's natural icy poise returned – and she glowered at him. Twilight was picking out strange shadows in her clothing, drowning her skin in a cold blue filter.

"I will acknowledge the Clave's request," she declared stonily, much to his surprise, "- not because they have earned it with any merit, but because of my pride as a Shadowhunter." She held a waiting hand out to him, palm up. "Now. Give me the paperwork before I change my damn mind."

Scuttling like a beetle, the Clave official darted nervously to her side, reaching into his robes once more to rummage for the papers. With an experienced flash of his fingers, he quickly flipped through the documents before he handed it over, growing pale as she scanned the text.

"M-My apologies, Miss Buonavento. There is an error on the paperwork. It looks like they must have –" He coughed uncomfortably into his closed fist and Giuseppe wondered what was making him so rattled. "They must have accidentally recorded the full value of the spoils on the document, not the ten percent tithe. Obviously, I will need to correct this before you sign it –"

There was something conspiratorial in Jada's smirk, as she took the short stack of paper from his hand and read it over. "No…" she corrected, plucking his stele to scribble her signature at the bottom of a page. "That's the ten percent."

The Clave dignitary was floored. He pointed wildly to some unseen figure on the paperwork.

"That amount…" he spluttered, jaw dropped. "That is only ten percent of the spoils?!"

Giuseppe hadn't even thought about the spoils. He had been so struck with the loss of Maria and Riccardo that he had not been able to think about much else. But seeing the official's reaction, he was starting to wonder now if Jada's hunt of the pack leader was just about blind rage and vengeance, or if it had somehow been a strategic move.

She had always been so cunning, so calculated in her movements, even as a child. It would not have been a surprise, if it had been part of a larger game-plan.

"An impressive amount, isn't it?" Jada mused, looking suddenly pleased. Seconds later, her expression took on a sarcastic note. "Tell those Clave bastards to use it wisely," she added, darkly. "They won't be receiving a penny more."

Smirk widening, Jada raised her hand, the papers clenched casually in her fist. She took a few papers from the stack (the medical documents, Giuseppe assumed) and tossed the remaining pages at the official as carelessly as throwing confetti. A spray of papers fluttered through the air like pale spring blossoms as she spun to descend the terrace steps.

Horrified, the man only stared after her through the storm of fluttering pages, gaping as she sauntered away from him, grinning like the devil.

"Jada Buonavento," Giuseppe reprimanded, shocked by the disrespectful gesture. "You know better than to be so arrogant to the servants of the Clave…"

Then he stopped as she neared.

In sudden focus, he took in two thick scars braceletting her wrists, gleaming like bandages of lace in the low light. They had been hidden by her cuffs, but now the glared in his face like highbeams. After darting his gaze downward, he saw the same scars circling her ankles, and a new tidal wave of concern eclipsed his former frustration at her behaviour.

These sorts of injuries weren't normal. Were excessively cruel.

How could the Clave treat their own people this way?

"Jada, what happened?" he demanded gruffly. "Where are those scars from?"

There was something that flickered in her eyes then. Something almost… ashamed.

Quickly, she turned her face away from him – and before he could interrogate her further, a new voice answered from the Guard entrance. A voice as grating as rusty door hinges.

"Those scars are from the manacles in the cell. All part of the lycanthropy monitoring, I am afraid…" it explained ruefully. "Entirely unavoidable."

Circled by a half dozen soldiers, it was difficult to see the source of the noise, then with a jolt of surprise, Giuseppe finally saw him – a short, pudgy figure in the middle of the crowd, wearing black Council robes and gleaming in the lanterns' glow.

The red-haired official seemed to recognize him instantly. "Councilman Aldertree," he greeted hastily. After bowing low, he instantly dropped to his knees, scrambling to pick up the loose pages to clear a path for the official and his bodyguards to walk through.

Aldertree didn't seemed to be grateful for the gesture, as he walked past. In fact, Giuseppe was not even sure he registered that the action was happening. He was staring at Jada's back with ravenous focus – a panting hunting dog on point. "It is an unfortunate thing," he continued on, "having to keep the prisoners of the Guard in those chains… Of course, it is required that we take proper precautions to restrain any prisoners – especially those who could have been infected with demonic diseases like vampirism and lycanthropy – until they have received a proper examination. They can be dangerously unpredictable, you see…"

Jada seemed to recognize his voice. She spun around at the sound of his words, her movements as fast and fierce as a seraph blade being unsheathed.

The two shared a seething glare that seemed to spark like electricity.

"But it seems," Aldertree rambled on, not breaking Jada's gaze, "that your goddaughter is as stubborn as she is beautiful, Giuseppe. She almost tore the chains from the floor of her cell the first time I came to visit her." His eyes ran over Jada, then, lingering the bare skin of her thighs in a way that made Giuseppe's skin crawl. He had no idea what 'visit' Aldertree was referring to, but if he had to guess from Jada's injuries, it was not the pleasant kind. "If only she hadn't struggled so vainly against the inevitable, she could have avoided some of the pain… But, she seems to be a glutton for punishment, that one. Always insisted on fighting till the very end."

The comment writhed in his stomach like a cluster of maggots.

"Till the end of what?" Giuseppe challenged darkly.

The Councilman didn't answer, and he didn't get a chance to drill him about it.

Roaring like a beast, Jada unexpectedly pounced in the Councilman's direction. Her eyes said she was prepared to rip him limb from limb. As quick as lightning, the arms of Aldertree's bodyguards shot up, catching her like a fly in a web before she could reach him. In a jerk of unified force, they threw Jada to her knees. There was an echoing crack as her bones met the stone floor, but, although the agony of it must have been excruciating, the pain did not seem to slow her down. His heart was in his throat, as she struggled, and he noticed in panic that the marble underneath her legs was smearing blood. Likely from the impact of her fall, he assumed with a lurch.

The Councilman laughed – a shrill discordant sound.

Giuseppe immediately wanted to smack him.

"Threatening a Council member?" he mused arrogantly. "You were just released from your cell, Miss Buonavento. I didn't realize you were so eager to be taken back there." He took a few strides to where Jada was being held back. She struggled against the grip of the several guards as he neared, but to no avail. Their hands were just as immovable as the manacles she had just shaken off. The Council member's voice darkened to a sinister timbre as he reached out a pudgy hand to grab Jada's chin and pry her face up to look at him – and some instinctive force made Giuseppe's stomach twist in disgust. "If you enjoyed our time together that much, you should have told me," he jeered. "I would have made sure to visit you more frequently than I did."

Malice glittered in her eyes as she wordlessly glared up at the Councilman, and he chuckled again.

"You really never give up, do you?" A morbid light danced in his eyes as Aldertree crouched and leant forward, his mouth practically brushing against hers in his nearness. He tilted his head like a curious bird. "But then, that was always what made you so fun…" His beady eyes hooded and darkened as he longingly ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "I'm sure that when you come to your senses, you'll have change of heart about our time together… You'll start to feel the way I do. It is just a matter of time –"

Jada didn't seem to agree.

With an animal snarl, she jerked with unprecedented power against the grasp of the half dozen soldiers, which seemed to catch them off guard. She succeeded in freeing one arm from their restraint, and she swatted it toward the Councilman's throat, fingernails bared like a raging bear.

Seeing her there, the wild flash of her brown eyes, the swirl of her long tangled hair, her gritted teeth, it was hard for Giuseppe to believe she wasn't infected with lycanthropy.

She looked more savage than any werewolf he had ever seen – in wolf form or otherwise.

"Jada, what are you doing?!" Giuseppe exclaimed, lurching forward to stop her – but it was too late.

Aldertree jerked back in surprise, clapping his tiny hand to his cheek. A single scratch had jumped to the surface of his skin, blood beading from the fresh wound like blotted red ink. His sneering arrogance was now gone. He glowered at Jada in lethal rage, his face flushing red.

"You DARE to strike me –?!" he screeched. An ugly vein throbbed at his sweaty temple. "I am a member of the Clave's Council! One of the highest powers in the government –"

"It won't be the last time I strike you," she snarled, lunging against the web of arms. "You pathetic, whimpering vermin!"

The Councilman looked murderous. "WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

Ignoring the howl of pain that resulted, Giuseppe abandoned his cane and jumped in front of Jada, blocking her from the dignitary's view. It revolted him to have to backpedal, to plead for this man's mercy, but despite everything, this was one of the most powerful men in Idris.

He could do worse than what he had already done, if he wanted to, and Jada pushing him didn't help the situation. "Please, Councilman Aldertree," Giuseppe quickly amended. "She just lost her parents. She is in mourning. She doesn't mean any of this –"

"I meant every word," she seethed, ignoring his protests. Giuseppe was astounded into abrupt stillness at the ferocious tone of her voice, a chilling mixture of murderous wrath and morbid anticipation. He turned around to see a bizarre, glorious light blazing in her eyes as she stared up at the councilman.

"I swear to you, leech," she hurled at Aldertree, grinning viciously, "One day, when you least expect it, I will personally see to it that your heart is ripped from your chest. And when that moment comes, I want to watch the life bleed from your body, knowing you deserve every agonizing moment of it."

Stunned into horrified silence, Giuseppe took a few steps back and surveyed the scene.

He had never seen a person's face 'purple' before; he had always assumed the term was something only used in literature – a fictional metaphor for fury that had no place in real life. But there was no other word to describe the color the Councilman's face turned in that moment.

Faster than light, Aldertree raised his hand and cracked the back of it across Jada's face. Her head snapped to the side, hard.

When she swivelled it back around – a red mark had risen to the skin of her cheek like a rash.

"Learn your place, orphan," he growled. Aldertree crouched to the ground again, so he was face-to-face with Jada. He gripped her jaw ruthlessly in his hand. "You are nameless, powerless. I come from a venerable Shadowhunter lineage. I hold political office. You will never be able to harm me."

"You're just a pedigreed fool." After a flickering smile, Jada spat a defiant mouthful of blood at his feet. The Councilman jumped back with a look of disgust. "Downworld will not forget this, Aldertree. You've made a powerful enemy. Remember it well."

For a horrifying moment, Giuseppe was sure that Aldertree might dart forward and deliver another blow to Jada's face. He tensed as if he wanted to, but he was interrupted before he could do it.

A shadow ducked from the entrance of the Guard. An official much like the first, red-haired one that had unlocked Jada's manacles. He ducked to whisper something in one of the bodyguard's ear.

The soldier looked back at his reporting officer with an expression on barely concealed loathing. While his duty to his superior kept him there, Giuseppe could sense he hated seeing Jada treated like this just as much as he did. "Councilman Aldertree, there has been a summons. From Inquisitor Herondale."

"Imogen?" the pudgy man echoed. He glanced at Jada, sounding like a child being asked to abandon a well-loved toy. "What does she want?"

"She didn't say." After dart their eyes quickly to Jada, he continued. There was something sorrowfully apologetic in his voice. "What do you want us to do with the girl?"

Turning on his heels, Aldertree scoffed.

"Leave her," he barked, gesturing for the soldiers to follow him inside the Guard. "If she won't cooperate, she has no further use to me." He flexed his hand in disapproval, as if his blow to Jada's face may have stung his hand in some way. "I've already taken what I wanted from her."

At his words, the soldiers dropped Jada to the stone terrace like a sack of garbage. One by one, they dispersed to follow Aldertree back to the shadowed entrance of the Guard.

Giuseppe couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

He could only watch his goddaughter in mute dread as she pulled herself together on the terrace floor alone. After glaring after the soldiers, she slid the narrow sleeve of her dress back onto her shoulder and took a deep breath. Slowly, Jada pulled her shredded knees to her chest and stood.

Giuseppe knew he should have been tactical, like Jada. Composed. He should have watched and waited to make sure the soldiers left before he sprang into action, but his body would not let him wait. Adrenaline punched through his veins and he careened up the steps and dropped to her side.

"Here. Take this." Hastily, he offered her his stele.

Not looking at him, Jada took the stele from him numbly.

As if she had sensed his intentions, she mechanically scrolled an iratze on her forearm. The bruises and the half-healed gashes disappeared almost instantly. She traced another rune on her neck, and the swelling on her cheek subsided. But when she raised her wrists to the starlight, she frowned to see that the manacle-scars had refused to disappear.

They were now reminder of her time in the Guard, carved permanently into her skin.

A melancholy look passed over her features as she dropped her hands to her sides.

Rage almost blinded him.

Jada looked downward, as if collecting herself, but when she finally raised her head, she was every inch her father's daughter: focused, razor-sharp, and calculating.

"Jada, please tell me he didn't –" She winced at every syllable. Giuseppe couldn't bear to utter the words. "Please tell me that wasn't what it sounded like –"

Selfishly, Giuseppe wanted her to tell him it wasn't true. He wanted to hear her say that Aldertree was a liar, that he had been bluffing, that he hadn't done anything… improper to her…

But as much as it destroyed him to admit it, some part of Giuseppe knew that it would have been a lie.

Almost imperceptibly, Jada looked sidelong at him, barely catching his expression before she averted her eyes once more. "Don't…" Despite the stern control of her expression, Jada's voice broke, and his heart shattered along with it. "Don't tell Rosalina. Please. She won't understand."

Everything within him felt sick. The same revolting grief as when he had heard her parents had died. He had to do something… say something. "Jada –" he began.

But she didn't want to hear it. Moments later, her back was to him and she was walking away before he could even register what was going on. "I need to see Argyle." she cut off, tersely. "I'll be home right after."

Giuseppe choked. "I can't just let you go by yourself," he spluttered, watching her walk down the steps of the Guard. "Letting a young girl roam the streets alone at night? What if something happened –?"

He regretted the statement as soon as it left his mouth.

At his words, she turned to him.

Jada's mask had fallen away. Her screen of incisive calculation and perfect control. Every illusion of untouchable power.

Beneath it all she was oddly blank – just an emotionally shredded nineteen year old girl – and it broke his heart, to see her looking so unlike herself.

"The worst has already happened to me." There was a strange, distant tone to her voice – both as lifeless as a grave and oddly triumphant. "Now I… have nothing left to fear."

His heart stopped in his chest.

The last sliver of doubt was cleared from his mind.

All at once, he knew exactly what Aldertree had done to her in the Guard.

Knew that he had not been there to protect her, when she needed him most.

Knew that there was nothing that was ever going to undo the disgusting sin that had been done to her.

The thought of Aldertree anywhere near her, touching her, made him cave over with a sickness more profound than nausea. It was like demon venom was curdling his insides, corroding his organs into bile.

Riccardo and Maria had entrusted him with their children. Believed in him to ensure their safety.

And he had failed.

He had failed in the most atrocious way possible.

Bonelessly, Giuseppe dropped to the stone steps of the Guard, as if his grief had finally severed his mind from his body. Before he could move to collect his cane and hobble to his feet again, Jada was already disappearing from sight, melding in with the shadows of the looming buildings.

He couldn't bear to watch her leave, knowing how completely he had betrayed her in letting this happen. His heart felt more than dead. Like a gaping black hole that threatened to swallow him, body and soul.

When she left the square, there was no sound, no disruption from the thick, lonely silence of Alicante's barren, dark streets. As if from a distance, he could hear himself sobbing into his palms. The same words, over and over and over again:

"Perdonami. Dio, ti prego perdonami."

JADA, I'M SORRY! ***Cries for days.***

On a scale of 1 to 10, I think my hatred for Aldertree is about 3,000. :( ***Fishy sends Valentine to beat up Aldertree.*** (*cough cough* Wait, did I say that? Muahahahaha ;) )

P.S. Did you notice the 'AHA!' moment that ties into City of Glass? ;) JUSTICE WILL BE SERVED, MY LITTLE FISHLINGS. DON'T YOU WORRY.

Again, sorry for the sad part, but the next chapter will be much happier, I swear. I hope to see you all next time!

Love, Fishie.