Alec carried the werewolf he bore to Tessa, who immediately began enchanting the smoke from her lungs. Then he dropped to his knees in front of Rafe.

“Hey, my baby,” said Alec. “Are you all right?”

Rafael might not have entirely understood the language, but anyone could have understood the message of Alec on his knees in the rubble, the love and concern on his face. Rafael nodded, dust drifting from his curly hair, and walked into Alec’s open arms. Alec folded the little boy against his chest.

“Thank you both,” Alec said to Tessa and Jem. “You’re heroes.”

“You’re welcome,” said Jem.

“You’re a moron,” said Lily, and put her face in her hands.

Alec rose and patted her awkwardly on the back, Rafe held in the circle of his other arm. He turned to Juliette, who had called one of her warlocks over to see to the werewolf in Joaquín’s arms.

“You got them all out.” Juliette smiled at them both, her expression wondering, as if she were as young as Rafe and seeing magic for the first time. “You did it.”

“The werewolf woman who was looking after Rafe,” said Alec. “Is she … here?”

Juliette looked at the ashes drifting on the cobbled streets. The fire was dying, now that Tessa could spare magic to cool the flames, but the house was a ruin.

“No,” said Juliette. “My girls tell me she was one of the first to die.”

“I’m sorry,” Alec told her, then his voice changed as he addressed Rafe. “Rafe, I have to ask you something,” he said. “Solomillo—”

“Steak?” Lily smirked.

“Dammit,” said Alec. “Sorry, Rafe. But will you come back with me to New York? You can—I have to talk to—if you don’t like it there, you don’t have to—”

Rafe watched him stumble over his words.

“I can’t understand you, fool,” he said sweetly in Spanish, and tucked his head down under Alec’s chin, his arms going around Alec’s neck.

“Okay,” said Alec. “Good. I think.”

Tessa walked away from the burned-out building. There were several warlocks in the crowd watching her with awe, Jem noted proudly. She strode over to the bound warlock and the head of the Buenos Aires Institute.

“Shall we ask Magnus to open a Portal for them?” she asked.

“Not just yet,” said Alec.

There was a change in his demeanor, his shoulders going back, his face stern. If it weren’t for the child in his arms, he might have been fearsome.

Alec Lightwood, leader of the Alliance, said, “First, I want a word.”

Alec looked around at the assembled faces. His breathing felt as if it were tearing his throat and his eyes were still stinging, but he was holding Rafe, so everything was perfectly all right.

Except for the fact that he had no idea what to say. He couldn’t know how many of the Shadowhunters had cooperated with the capture and torture of these women. He suspected most of them had gone along with their leader’s orders, but he didn’t know how responsible that made them. If he arrested everybody, then the Institute would be left an empty ruin. The people here were owed protection.