Page 2 of The Road to Hell

“Never mind,” I muttered.

Maybe I’d add a Batman marathon to our to-do list—right at the very bottom.

Currently, my agenda consisted of:

Pack for hell.

Convince Eliza and Mason to join our mission.

Storm into Hell.

Raise a rebellion.

Kick Dad’s ass so hard, he can’t sit on his throne, and, oh yeah…

Conquer the realm.

Then,maybe, we could enjoy a Batman marathon. Priorities, right?

I glanced at Rathiel again. He hadn’t so much as budged, still leaning against the wall like a dark sentinel. His jaw tightened, the scar flexing, and somehow, I knew exactly what he was fixating on. It wasn’t our upcoming trip, the rebellion, or even my father. It was me.

And honestly, he had every reason to be concerned.

When last I’d faced my father, I’d lost everything. My wings, my memories—well,someof them—and nearly my life. Had Rathiel not intervened, Lucifer would have slaughtered me as mercilessly as he had my loyal soldiers. But saving me hadn’t been enough. Rathiel knew my father wouldn’t stop until he erased me from existence.

And all because of a prophecy, one that stated that I would overthrow my father and restore Hell to its rightful state. Rathiel’s solution had been to strip me of any memories involving the rebellion and our previous relationship—the sexy kind, apparently. Then he’d sent me to Earth, where he believed I would be safe, hidden from my father’s wrath.

For ten years, his plan had worked. I’d lived an unremarkable life, serving coffee during the day and booze at night, oblivious to the mess I’d left behind in Hell.

But then my father had found me. Soon after, he’d sent his most loyal servants—his fallen angels—to finish the job. They hadn’t succeeded, but they had, unfortunately, murdered Jack. And we’d killed Zera and Tavira.

Two down. Six to go.

The odds still weren’t in our favour, but even I could admit, they’d improved drastically.

That didn’t mean we could let down our guard, though.

Rathiel, a fallen angel himself, knew better than anyone how his brethren operated. They were ruthless, efficient, and merciless. They’d all served together for millennia under my father’s rule, and now, we’d just killed two of their own. Doubtless, they were out for blood.

Gaze still on him, I said, “I know you don’t agree with my plan, but I don’t have any other options, Rath.”

His head snapped toward me, his eyes wide, unblinking, and filled with an intensity that made me pause.

I frowned. “What?”

“You called me Rath,” he said, his voice gruff.

“Uh-huh. And?”

“You haven’t called me that in…” He exhaled slowly. “In a really long time.”

Something in his tone gave me pause. “It’s just a nickname. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” he said, his voice low. He pressed a hand against his chest, almost absently, like he was trying to soothe an invisible ache. “You only ever called me that when—” He stopped, clearing his throat.

It didn’t take long for understanding to dawn. “Oh,” was all I could manage.

I could practically hear him saying, “When we were together.” Back when I was still in Hell, before everything happened. Before Rathiel stole my memories.

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