Years ago he had seen it from miles away. The dangerous path some young shadowhunters in the Academy went o. Years ago he had listened to his instincts and shared his worries with his kind, with his younger brother Magnus and others and yet the didn’t listen. Kids were kids. Kids would change. They would see the path. But over two-thousand years of experiences told him that they would not. And he was right.
Back when Valentine was still in school, shortly before he married Jocelyn Fairchild, Jake Thornton caught him attacking werewolves. He was outnumbered, terribly so. They had the moment of surprise and the werewolves as hostages. He was run through with a sword and then taken hostage.
That was years ago, decades even. Decades in which he had been a prisoner to one or the other circle member. They had fitted him with magic-suppressing cuffs. They kept taking his blood, he had no idea for what. He grew to no longer care. Jake was entirely dependent on them, at their mercy. They fed him. They kept him, without them, he was as good as dead.
And now they had been gone for days. Jake was tied to the floor but even if he wanted to, he was too weak to move now, without his powers and having gone days without water and food. He was slipping, when he heard movement. Maybe, maybe they would finally give him drink and water. But it wasn’t his keeper. They were too frantic.
