Monarch

37. Atlas

37

ATLAS

C astles are fortresses, and Lorne’s is no different. He’s built it with iron gates, high windows, stone walls…

But he forgot about one thing.

His door is made of wood.

I stride back to the Bronco, wrenching open the trunk.

“Shouldn’t we call the cops again?” Remi asks nervously.

“You two can head back if you want.” I shove aside Remi’s rake and hedge clippers, wrapping my hand around the handle of an axe. “I’m not leaving Elena here overnight.”

Remi looks at Dane. “The little girl’s in there, too?”

He nods.

“Then I’m going in.”

“You stay right next to me,” he tells her firmly.

I’m already scaling the wall.