That look in her eyes, the fury in her step — it was not ferocity she felt, but a slight madness. Unfazed by fleeting and daring emotions, Jefferson stood in her midst like stone in the storm — yet his single eye glowed to the point that his gaze seemed to trap her and bring the rampage to some sort of sudden halt. Even as she stared back at him with rage in her eyes, he did not flinch; his scars only stared back with wretched indifference, as if the monster inside were analyzing one who began to resemble it.
He himself had killed and raped an unknown number of unfortunate victims — and at the time he had done so lacking sanity and clarity. Jace would not fall into the same trap, he believed, though she did not lay too far beyond it. What happened to the almost maternal figure who had, for whatever reason, looked up to him?
"You're mad," he said, brows furrowing slowly. Still he did not move, undaunted. "A murderer kills scarcely. A madman never stops."
A pause. "Perhaps this is only the beginning." Vengeance or not.
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