Page 36 of The Road to Hell

“Oh, shut up,” I grumbled, crossing my arms. “I still think my plan would work.”

His amusement vanished. “No, it wouldn’t.”

Arguing seemed pointless, considering we had a new plan now, so I bit back my retort.

“What changed?” he asked. “Earlier, you were ready to storm into Lucifer’s bedroom alone. What made you see reason?”

“Eliza,” I admitted.

His brow furrowed slightly. “Eliza?”

I nodded. “She pointed out all the holes in my plan, but beyond that, she made me realize that my father isn’t the only problem. When I kill Lucifer, his fallen will come looking for revenge. They would never obey me. So, we need to kill them first. Before we kill Lucifer.”

“We,” he repeated. “Not just you?”

I swallowed. “Not just me. We’ll do this together.”

Relief softened his face.

“This plan comes with an added bonus too,” I continued. “Killing Lucifer’s fallen keeps him from creating more hellspawn. Which is another win. The fewer numbers he has, the better our chances of survival are. I suppose if we’re going to do this, then we should do it right, and that means…” I took a deep breath. “Raising another rebellion and?—”

I didn’t get to finish.

Without warning, Rathiel stepped forward and swept me into his arms, crushing me against him until my bones audibly protested. The force of it nearly knocked the breath from my lungs, my feet barely touching the ground. His grip was solid, unyielding, and for a second, I thought he might actually break me. But I didn’t care.

Because beneath the iron hold was something fierce, something raw.

Relief.

Rathiel buried his face against my hair and curled his wings around us, shielding us from the rest of Hell. He wasn’t just holding me. He was grounding himself, as if he needed proof I was still here, still alive, still willing to fight.

I swallowed hard, my arms lifting hesitantly before finally wrapping around his waist.

“You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that,” he said.

His words triggered something in me, and I let myself sink into him.

My hands curled tighter in the fabric of his shirt, my forehead resting lightly against his collarbone. His scent—warm skin, a hint of salt from the relentless heat, and something uniquely Rathiel, something deep and grounding—filled my lungs. My body, the traitorous thing that it was, relaxed against his. His grip loosened just enough to let me breathe, but not enough to release me. Like he was waiting to see if I’d run.

I didn’t.

For once, I didn’t overthink it. I just let myself enjoy the quiet. The closeness. The brief moment when I wasn’t Lucifer’s daughter, wasn’t Hell’s failed rebellion leader, wasn’t the ticking time bomb of a prophecy waiting to go off.

I was just…here.

With him.

His fingers brushed the back of my head, barely there, like he didn’t quite believe this was real. I squeezed my eyes shut and ignored the strange feeling twisting in my gut. If I let myself think too much about this, I’d ruin it.

With an exhale, I finally—finally—pulled back. He let me go without hesitation, but his hands lingered for half a second longer.

I cleared my throat. “We should get back before Vol starts selling my belongings to the highest bidder.”

Rathiel huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

I started toward the edge of the cliff, feeling strangely lighter.

“Lily.”

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