Chapter 117

Chapter One Hundred Seventeen

Rocks tumbled from the top of the collapse to crash against the walls of the broad avenue. Connor held his ground until a particularly large chunk of debris slalomed between thick slabs with a series of cracks and headed toward him.

Elise tugged on his armored chest plate. “It’s unstable. You can’t go up there.”

He coughed on the clinging dust—dry and stale. “They might need me.”

“And we’ll find them. But coming from this side is out of the question.”

She was right, of course. Twice, he’d put his foot on the pile of rock and composite chunks, and both times it had shifted and skittered beneath the weight, as if the stone were a carapace covering anxious bugs.

The avenue was broad. There should have been plenty of space for the collapse to fill, spilling low and wide instead of climbing to the ceiling. Instead, the collapse had taken place several meters after the fork, in a narrower space.