Drake closed the distance fast and his hand hovered near my shoulder. He didn’t touch me right away because he saw the knife and he saw the way I was looking at it.
“Don’t touch it.” He said.
“I wasn’t going to.” I replied.
The blade was sunk deep into the wood and the handle was dark with dried blood. It wasn’t fresh and it wasn’t mine. We hadn’t heard of any of our guys being attacked so we don’t know where it came from.
A strip of cloth was tired tight below the guard and it hung stiff and marked.
I leaned closer without touching it as I studied the knot and the pattern.
“You recognise it.” Drake realized.
“Yeah. From LA.” I replied as his jaw tightened.
He glanced at the cloth and then at the ground near my door. His breathing changed like something had just locked into
