The killer stared at him, not quite sure what she was witnessing or what was actually happening. Human beings didn't shoot ice, or have glowing tattoos. It simply wasn't normal.
And no one would ever believe her if she lived to tell the tale. Still, she had one last trump card. She could see what she'd craved for five years, before she died.
She spat in Garrett's direction, red tinged spittle dribbling down his cheek, "He shot down my brother in cold blood. This is all on him."