Hera Lightwood's P.O.V.

The sound of a loud beep rouses me awake. I sit up quickly and lash out to strike the alarm on the nightstand that isn't going off. It's not the alarm making that noise, it's a car on the street below.

It's seven in the morning, the sun is shining bright through the open windows. From up here, it almost feels like home—almost. I climb out of bed and walk to the window. Looking out straight, the bright blue sky, the thick puffy clouds rolling by, and with the sun still rising over the horizon.

I drop my eyes down, finding my new life in the busy...