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Chapter One

LILY

I used to think Hell was working the Monday morning coffee rush. Boy, was I wrong—so painfully wrong.

Hell, as it turned out, was waiting on hold while unholy elevator music blasted through my ear, all because I needed to cancel my freaking internet package. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently so, according to Chadwick from Hypernet Solutions. A few moments ago, he’d asked why I wanted to cancel, and I’d frozen. What was I supposed to say? “Oh, well, you see, I’m heading on an extended camping trip into Hell with a vampire who used to be a fallen angel so we can murder Lucifer. Or as I know him, Dad. We have no idea when we’ll be back—if we even survive, that is—and therefore, no longer require internet services.”

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t going to fly.

So instead, I went with the classic deflection option, “Just, uh, some changes in my living situation.”

“Living situation?” Chadwick repeated, his voice the embodiment of corporate politeness. “Would you mind elaborating? Perhaps we have a different package more suited to your needs.”

Oh, Chadwick. Sweet, clueless Chadwick. My “needs” consisted of raising a rebellion strong enough to help me overthrow my father’s tyrannical rule—ideally without suffering any maiming or death this time—and seize Hell’s crown. Which, now that I thought of it, that was one accessory Lucifer had never bothered with. Maybe he found crowns gaudy?

“Ma’am?” Chadwick’s voice cut through my wandering thoughts.

“Right,” I said, shaking off the mental image of my father prancing around in a rhinestone tiara. “Uh, no. Just close the account, please.”

He paused for a moment, then came the faint sound of clicking keys. “We’re sorry to see you go. May I ask which internet provider you’ll be switching to?”

Switching to? I bit back a laugh. Unless my father had come up with his own broadband service—“InfernoNet: Speeds so fast, your fingers will burn”—we would have no need for internet in Hell.

“None at all. I’m going off-grid,” I said, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

“Off-grid,” Chadwick repeated slowly, sounding genuinely baffled. “Well, if you ever decide to return, Hypernet Solutions would be happy to welcome you back.”

I snorted under my breath. Clearly, Chadwick was reading off a script.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I stated drolly.

Before he could launch into his “exclusive returning customer offers” pitch, I hung up and dropped my phone onto the nearby coffee table with a sigh. Across the room, Rathiel leaned against the wall, his perfectly muscled arms crossed over his chest and his piercing gaze fixed on the city lights beyond the balcony door.

“Well, that’s one obstacle handled,” I said, running my hands through my hair. Thankfully, that was the last service I needed to cancel. I’d already unsubscribed from the streaming platforms and cancelled my phone plan. The latter had hurt the most. I hadn’t realized how emotionally attached I’d become to that little rectangular distraction. What if I wanted to snap a dramatic selfie of my brooding fallen-angel-slash-vampire sidekick? Alas. It had to go. Just like everything else I had to leave behind.

Rathiel didn’t respond. In fact, over the past two days, he’d only spoken when absolutely necessary, opting instead to perfect his smoldering silence.

With an annoyed huff, I planted my hands on my hips and studied his profile. The faint glow from the outside streetlights caught the scar along his jawline. It should have made him look less angelic, less perfect. But somehow, the flaw only added to his allure—at least in my eyes. Perhaps because I, myself, wasn’t perfect. Rathiel’s scar was there for the whole world to see, but not mine. I hid them beneath layers of clothing, carved into the flesh of my shoulders and back. The brutal remains of the wings my father had viciously torn off me.

I’d only recently rediscovered that memory. As much as I hated the selective amnesia that still plagued me, that memory was one I could have done without. At night, when sleep eluded me, I could feel my father ripping them from my body. I remembered the agony, the terror, the blood.

I cleared my throat and dropped onto the couch. “Still sulking, I see,” I commented, forcing my thoughts to the now instead of then .

Rathiel half-turned, and his crystalline eyes cut to me, sharp as the blade strapped to his hip. He’d kept the weapon close ever since Zera and Tavira murdered Jack. I’d killed Zera in retribution—burned her alive and severed her head from her body—and Rathiel had taken out Tavira before she could escape. In my eyes, their punishment fit the crime, but killing two of my father’s top generals wouldn’t go unanswered. The others would come for us. Guaranteed.

“I’m not sulking,” Rathiel said, his deep voice lifting the hairs on my arms.

I stretched out on my back and stared at the ceiling. “You look like Batman. All dark and broody, and you’ve got this antihero vibe going on. Very dramatic. Ten out of ten.”

“I don’t know who Batman is,” he replied flatly.

No, he wouldn’t, considering he’d only arrived on Earth about a week ago. And in that time, we’d been too busy dodging my father’s hit squad. I hadn’t exactly found the time to educate him on human pop culture.

“He’s a fictional character who—you know what, never mind. Just trust me. You look like him. Well, minus the armored bat costume.”

Rathiel blinked. It probably sounded like I’d lost my damn mind.

“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, some of 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.

“Yeah, ‘ oh ,’” he repeated. “It was your name for me,” he continued, the words thick with emotion. “When things were good. When it was just us. Before everything fell apart. You were the only one to ever call me that.”

I started to brush it off again—but stopped. This wasn’t just about a name. Not to him. And if I was being honest, not to me either.

For more years than people could count, Rathiel had served my father. After falling from Heaven, he’d pledged himself to Lucifer. But that vow had stripped Rathiel of his identity and his free will. My father had owned him completely, body and soul, for millennia. Until the day Lucifer released Rathiel from that vow. Lucifer had only done it to give Rathiel the freedom needed to infiltrate my rebellion, to convince me that he had forsaken my father. Except Rathiel had taken that newfound freedom and chosen me . He’d chosen to fight beside me, to protect me…to love me—or so he claimed. Unfortunately, I had no way of knowing whether anything he said was true. While I wanted to believe him, to trust the sincerity in his voice when he told me about our past, the blank spaces in my mind made it impossible.

There was clearly something between us, something I couldn’t ignore. Whenever Rathiel touched me, it was like my body remembered things my mind had long since forgotten. There was a heat that lingered between us, a connection that was as undeniable as it was unforgettable. Even though my brain rejected everything he claimed, my body ached for him to hold me, longed for him to love me. But fear held me back. Fear that if I let myself fall, I’d lose everything again . Fear of giving my father any additional power over me.

“It’s just a name,” I mumbled, though my voice lacked conviction.

He nodded as if in agreement. But his eyes told an entirely different story.

“Let’s just focus on what’s ahead,” I said. “We have a lot to do.”

His jaw worked for a moment, but he didn’t press the issue. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped. “Let’s start with the list.”

I blinked at him. “The list?”

“Yes, the list,” he said, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. “The one you’ve been building in your head for days. If we’re going into Hell, I want to know exactly what you’re planning.”

“Right.” I cleared my throat, brushing off the tension from moments ago. “Okay. First, I need to buy us some gear.”

“Gear,” he repeated.

“Well, yeah. We don’t exactly have anywhere to stay, considering the only place we’ve ever lived in Hell was my father’s palace, and that’s a bit occupied at the moment. And we can’t exactly rely on the hospitality of the locals. They’ll sell us out to Lucifer the first chance they get. So, we’ll have to stay off-grid, which means camping in caves. And that means sleeping bags, food, water—the works.”

“You want us to sleep in caves?” he asked, his brows drawing together.

“Do you have a better idea?” I asked.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and though he clearly didn’t like this part of the plan, he didn’t offer an alternative. “Fine. What else?”

Now came the part I knew he really wouldn’t like. “Eliza and Mason,” I said, carefully. “I want them to come with us.”

Rathiel’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“No?” I repeated, arching a brow.

“Absolutely not,” he said, his voice firm. “We’re already taking your imp and…cat. We’re not bringing your friends too.”

I almost laughed at his tone, but the scowl on his face told me he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. If I wanted this to work, I’d have to tread lightly. “They can handle themselves,” I said. “Eliza helped me take down Deidre.”

Technically, I’d done most of the work, but…details.

“And Mason has extensive knowledge about hellspawn,” I finished.

Rathiel crossed his arms. “You and I have extensive knowledge about hellspawn. We don’t need two earthbound paranormals slowing us down. They don’t belong in Hell, Lily. They belong here, where it’s safer.”

“Nowhere is safe,” I countered. “The fallen angels are here too, in case you’ve somehow forgotten. And if we don’t win this fight, you and I both know Lucifer will bring Hell to Earth. He’s already opened the gate once. All bets are off now. We’re simply lucky he hasn’t invaded yet.”

Rathiel grunted his displeasure, but I pressed on. “Eliza can fight. She’s a mercenary. Not to mention, her siren abilities may come in handy. And she’ll want to help us stop Lucifer before he invades.”

“And the gargoyle? What help can he offer beyond spouting information we already know?”

“Mason can see magical energies. He could see the gate and its aura. He can see our energy too. Maybe that can be helpful.”

“How?” Rathiel demanded.

I threw my hands into the air. “I don’t know, Rathiel. But I’m trying to build us a team. The two of us aren’t enough to win this war. It’s literally you and I against all of Hell. Anyone who stood with me supposedly died ten years ago—remember?”

Rathiel sighed. “We’ll find the numbers.”

“Yes, we will. And in the meantime, I’m asking Mason and Eliza to join us. If they say no, fine. But nothing you say will keep me from asking them.”

“And if they die?” he asked, his tone cold.

Okay, maybe one thing he said could stop me. But I lifted my chin. “They aren’t going to die. I won’t let that happen.”

His eyes bored into mine for a long moment before his shoulders sagged slightly. “Fine,” he growled. “But if they’re coming, they follow my lead. No exceptions. You too.”

I bit back a smirk. Rathiel thinking he was in charge was almost cute. But instead of pointing out that I was the one running the show, I smiled sweetly and nodded.

“Anything else on your list?” he asked.

“Oh, just storming into Hell, raising a rebellion, and kicking Lucifer off his throne,” I said with a shrug.

Rathiel shook his head and turned back to the balcony door, his focus once again on the world outside. His hand strayed to his sword’s hilt, a reflex I recognized as his way of grounding himself.

When nothing happened, I stood from the couch and grabbed my jacket. I slipped it on and was halfway to the door when Rathiel’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bar,” I said, keeping my tone light. “Mason’s working tonight, and with luck, Eliza might show up too. Figured I’d knock out two birds with one stone.”

“There’s no way you’re going alone,” he said, striding toward me, his long legs making quick work of the distance.

I turned, frowning. “I’ll be fine. It’s just the bar. You know, the one where I used to work?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” he shot back. “That’s the first place the fallen would look for you. I won’t risk it. Remember what happened the last time you ventured out alone?”

I flinched, the memory hitting like a punch to the gut. Jack’s lifeless body flashed through my mind, but I quickly shoved the thought down and forced myself to hold Rathiel’s gaze. I opened my mouth to argue again, but before I could get the words out, he closed the distance between us. His hand came up, and he gently clasped my chin, tilting my face so I had no choice but to look at him. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through me, and the emotions in his eyes—raw, vulnerable, and fierce—made my breath catch.

“I will not risk your life again,” he said, his voice steady but brimming with intensity. “Not now, not ever. I’ve already lost you once, Lily.”

His thumb brushed lightly against my jaw, and my heart thudded painfully in my chest. “You don’t remember,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, “but I do. I remember how it felt to see you broken, bleeding, and slipping away. I’ll be damned if I let that happen again.”

“Rathiel,” I whispered, unsure of what to say, unsure if I could even speak past the lump in my throat.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t have to do this alone, Lily. Not anymore. Whatever comes, wherever we go—I’m with you. Always.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The sincerity in his words, the way he said my name like it was a prayer, left me completely undone.

“Fine,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “But only if you promise not to hover like some overprotective watchdog.”

His lips twitched in the faintest ghost of a smile. “No promises.”

“Figures,” I muttered, stepping back and trying to ignore the warmth lingering where his hand had been. “Let’s go, then.”