She leads us through a side corridor lined with display cases, artifacts and antiques. Then something catches my eye. A flash of familiar faded green catches my eye. It is displayed under a spotlight in a pristine glass case, looking like a relic.
No, it can’t be, I whisper the thoughts in my head as I move closer to the glass, my heart starting a frantic, uneven beat against my ribs.
It’s a jacket. I recognize it instantly. The precise shade of military green, the thick, heavy wool, and the subtle, dark stain near the cuff: a remnant of dirt and old blood.
It is the jacket Drake was wearing the day I rescued him from that trap.
A sudden, dizzying rush of memory floods my senses.
“You’re shivering,” he’d mumbled when he finally woke up in the arms of the guard as they led me and the o
