“Tell me what you know, Lowell. Or else I will get you in trouble with Declan every time I get the chance.”
Clarisse wasn’t playing around when she said what she said. She was serious and didn’t have time to go around beating the bush when she knew she could just hit the nail right on its head. Lowell was right in front of her now, and she firmly believed that there is something she needed to know from him.
“Clary… this isn’t the time nor the place to throw such threats,” Lowell said, his lips pressed hard in apprehension.
“Then when and where would you rather tell me? When Declan and Shannon pass us by with my hands clasped tightly on your wrist?”
Lowell’s eyes darted from one end of the hallway to the other. He could sense Declan was still downstairs with Shannon, but with Clarisse in front of him, there was a high chance he’d get distracted and not notice. The longer her hand stayed in contact with his skin, the faster his senses turn to mush.