“I think if I’ve come all this way, placing myself right in the path of bloodhounds, you’re going to prove it.” “Didn’t I prove it when I dunked a pedophile in a tank of acid?” Her words seethe with righteous anger. I smile at the memory of our first kill. “Your hands still look clean,” I say in a hushed tone. “I want to see them dirty. I want to see them red.”
