Page 9 of The Road to Hell

I flinched at his words—apparently we weren’t mincing them anymore. But he also had a point. No matter how much I wanted to believe I could win this, Mason had just laid out the cold, brutal reality. And hearing it spoken aloud was like a knife to the ribs.

Mason sighed, his expression softening. “Lily, I care about you. But I’m nothing like you, Eliza, or Rathiel. I’m not a fighter. You’re talking about war, and I would be your weak link down there. I would get you killed trying to protect me.”

Eliza’s brows knit together. “So, what, you’re just going to let her go down there without backup?”

“She’s not going alone,” Mason said gently, gesturing toward Rathiel. “She’s got him. And now you. And she’s got herself. Lily is stronger than both of us, and we all know it. That’s why she’s going in the first place.”

I stared at him, surprised by the conviction in his voice. “You think I can do this?”

“I think you’re the only one who can,” Mason said, his eyes meeting mine. “But that doesn’t mean I’m throwing myself into the fire. I’m not built for that kind of fight, Lily. I’ll only slow you down, and we both know it.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but he wasn’t. Mason had never been a fighter. His strength lay in his intellect, his ability to see things others couldn’t. Asking him to march into Hell was asking him to sacrifice his life.

“Fair enough,” I said softly. “I appreciate your honesty, Mason. Really.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. “For what it’s worth, I’ll do everything I can from here. Keep an eye on the gate, make sure nothing slips through while you’re down there. If you need a safe place to regroup, you know where to find me.”

I reached across the table and took Eliza’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Are you absolutely sure? I wouldn’t blame you if you stayed with Mason.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded firmly. “I’m sure. I’m not letting you go through this alone.”

“She’s not alone,” Rathiel stated.

Eliza gave a half-smile, but didn’t respond.

I gave her hand another squeeze, then released it. “Thank you.”

“Hey, what are friends for, right?”

Draining the rest of my drink, I set the glass down with a decisive clink. “All right then. Here’s the plan. We’ll meet at the gate in two days. Pack light—clothes, weapons, the basics. I’ll take care of the gear and supplies.”

Eliza nodded, her gaze roaming the bar, as though committing it to memory. She stood. “Guess I better get moving. I’ve got a job, and then I’ve gotta start packing.”

Yes, I knew that feeling well.

“Two days,” I reminded her.

“Two days,” she echoed, her voice quieter now. She glanced at Mason, offering him a weak smile. When she left, the bar’s atmosphere returned to normal.

We sat in silence for a moment before Mason looked at me. “You’re really doing this.”

“I have to,” I said.

His gaze lingered on me, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. Finally, he reached out, resting a hand briefly on my arm. “Try not to get yourself killed, princess.”

I gave him a faint, crooked smile. “I’ll do my best.”

We all stood, and Mason turned to Rathiel, extending a hand. “Take care of her.”

They shook hands, then Rathiel and I moved toward the exit. Once dressed in our coats, we stepped outside, and the chill night air hit me like a wake-up call. The weight of what lay ahead settled heavily on my shoulders, but there was no turning back.

We were going to Hell—literally. And if things went sideways, it could very well be the end of us all. But I’d made my choice. We would storm into Hell, raise a rebellion, and destroy my father.

Even if it killed us.

ChapterThree

RATHIEL

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