POV Jane Doe.

Raphael's iron grip on my arm is the only thing keeping me from bolting as he parades me around the ballroom like a prized show pony. With every step, I can feel the weight of a thousand judgy eyes boring into me, dissecting every inch of my designer get-up and finding me lacking.

I want nothing more than to flip the bird to every single one of these pretentious asshats, but I know that would only earn me a one-way ticket to the seventh circle of "You Done Fucked Up" ville.

So I paste on my best fake smile, the one I usually reserve for creepy drunk guys at the bar who can't take a hint, and let Feather-brain lead me through the sea of designer labels and overinflated egos.

The decor is so over-the-top, it makes Liberace's wet dreams look understated. Gaudy doesn't even begin to cover it - it's like someone has taken a bedazzler to a Faberge egg and then dunked it in liquid gold for good measure.

As we make our way towards the edge of the dance floor, my spidey senses start tingling like crazy. That's when I spot him - this massive wall of a man who looks like he bench-presses tanks for shits and giggles.

His name is on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite place it, even though I'm pretty sure Raph had mentioned him earlier. He's huddled up with some petite blonde thing, their heads bent together like they're plotting world domination or some shit.

Blondie is gazing at him like he farts rainbows and shits diamonds, and he's just eating that shit up. The whole thing has my skeevy meter pinging off the charts, and as soon as the jolly black giant straightens to his full height, his eyes are fucking molesting me, raking over my body like he's eye-fucking the last steak at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I know that look. I've seen it leering back at me from the other side of too many grimy bars and dimly lit streets. It's the kind of look that makes me want to grab the closest blunt object and go full Gallagher on a motherfucker's head.

My hands ball into fists so tight, I can feel my nails carving half-moon trenches into my palms. It's a damn miracle I don't march right over and make an impromptu eunuch out of King Shithead. Really give his balls an all-expenses-paid trip to the Moon - with my kneecap as the rocket.

But as much as I want to wipe that filthy fucking smirk off his face, starting a riot at the afterlife equivalent of the Met Gala probably wouldn't win me any brownie points. Sir Prance-a-lot has already given me the "fuck around and find out" spiel, and I have no doubt that pissing off the wrong demigod would earn me a first-class ticket to eternal damnation.

And while I'd love nothing more than to watch this asshat squirm like a worm on a hook, I can't afford to napalm my shot at not spending eternity trapped in Coach with a flock of angry, incontinent pigeons.

So I settle for mentally disemboweling Captain Cockstare in increasingly creative ways. Like maybe I could accidentally spill a drink directly onto his dick. Or slip some Viagra into his champagne and watch him try to walk around with a raging boner in those tight-ass breeches.

Oh, the possibilities are endless, and just picturing his discomfort brings a sadistic little smirk to my lips. It isn't much, but it's just enough to keep me from going full Hannibal Lecter on his sorry ass.

"Raphael," he says, his voice smooth as silk. "I see you've brought fresh blood to the party."

Raphael chuckles, the sound rich and dark. "Orpheus, always a pleasure. And yes, this is Jane, my newest project."

I bristle at the word 'project,' but force a smile onto my face. "Charmed," I say, my voice dripping with false sweetness.

Orpheus's eyes rake over me, taking in every detail of Ollie's handiwork with an unnerving intensity that makes my skin crawl. It brings back memories I'd rather forget.

"Enchanté, Jane," he purrs, grasping my hand in his.

Raphael's arm constricts around my waist like a boa on steroids as Orpheus plants a kiss on my hand that lingers way too fucking long to be considered gentlemanly. The sheer balls on this guy leave me momentarily speechless, a feeling I'm not exactly accustomed to.

That, and the fact that I can't understand a single word that has just come out of his mouth. It sounds like French, but the only French I know is "hon hon hon" and "baguette," which I may or may not have blurted out loud like a total fucking idiot.

I could've sworn I hear Raphael choke back a laugh as I yank my hand out of Monsieur Handsy's grip like it's a bear trap.

I have to physically restrain myself from rolling my eyes so hard they fall out of my fucking skull, plastering on a smile that's about as genuine as a three-dollar bill. "Baguette, indeed," he purrs, his voice oozing with a sickening mixture of honey and arsenic. "You look positively... delectable."

"Thanks... I think. Ollie certainly knows his way around makeup," I reply, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

Orpheus chuckles, the sound like velvet sliding over gravel. "Indeed he does. But then, he's had centuries to perfect his craft. You, on the other hand..." He trails off, his eyes glittering with a cruel sort of amusement that makes my skin crawl. "You're still so delightfully fresh."

Raphael clears his throat pointedly, and Orpheus smirks at him in a way that makes me want to choke him with his own pretentious ascot. "Forgive me," he purrs, before turning to the girl beside him. "This is Lily, my latest... acquisition."

Lily looks up at me, her wide blue eyes brimming with a desperate kind of hope that makes my heart ache. She's young, probably no more than fourteen, with porcelain skin and delicate features that make her look like a fucking china doll. Her frothy white lace and tulle dress is a stark contrast to the darkness that seems to cling to Orpheus like a second skin.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young Lily," Raphael says smoothly, inclining his head in a polite nod. "I trust Orpheus has been a gracious guide thus far?"

I have to bite my tongue to keep from snorting at the idea of Orpheus being anything remotely resembling "gracious." But I can feel Raphael's piercing gaze boring into the side of my head, warning me not to cause any trouble.

Lily's voice is soft, almost a whisper, as she replies, "Hello, Mr. Raphael. Yes, Orpheus has been very kind to me."

Then she turns to me, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's nice to meet you too, Jane."

I feel a pang of sympathy for the girl, remembering all too well the confusion and fear that had consumed me when I first arrived in this fucked-up afterlife. "Likewise, Lily," I say, trying to inject some warmth into my voice. "So, how are you finding the party so far? Pretty wild, huh?"

Lily glances at Orpheus, silently asking for permission to speak. He gives a small nod, his eyes locked on mine.

"It's...a bit overwhelming," she confesses, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her dress. "I never expected it to be so... so..."

"Fucked up?" I supply helpfully, ignoring my reaper's sharp intake of breath beside me.

Lily lets out a startled laugh, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. "Yeah," she says, her eyes sparkling with a kind of mischievous delight. "Fudged up is definitely the word I was looking for."

My grin widens as I feel an instant connection with this young girl who reminds me so much of myself at her age. Maybe if she hadn't kicked the bucket so early and had the chance to actually grow up, she wouldn't have ended up as fucked up as I did. But that untainted purity? I used to have that in spades back then, before life chewed me up and spat me out, leaving me a bitter, jaded husk of my former self.

Raphael clears his throat, his eyes darting between me and Orpheus like he's watching a particularly intense game of tennis. "You ladies must be parched," he says, his voice dripping with so much forced casualness, it's almost laughable. "Come, Orpheus, let's fetch them some refreshments, shall we?"

Orpheus hesitates for a moment, his gaze lingering on Lily with a kind of possessive intensity that makes my skin crawl and my fists itch to introduce themselves to his face. But then he nods, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his lips.

"But of course," he says, his voice like honey-coated razorblades. "We mustn't let our charming companions go thirsty, now can we?"

As the two men saunter off towards the bar, I hear Raphael's voice slither into my mind like a telepathic serpent. "Discover all you can about the girl," he urges, his tone laced with a kind of frantic urgency that sets my teeth on edge. "Her vulnerabilities, her assets. We need to ascertain whether she's a potential ally or adversary."

I give a curt nod, my eyes never straying from Lily's face. She's staring after Orpheus with a kind of desperate, hungry longing that makes my heart ache, her lower lip caught between her teeth like she's physically restraining herself from chasing after him.

Lily looks so fucking fragile, like a baby bird that has fallen out of its nest and is just waiting for some asshole to come along and crush it underfoot. It takes every ounce of my nonexistent maternal instinct not to scoop her up and hide her away from all the bullshit this afterlife has to offer.

"So, Lily," I say, trying to keep my voice light and not let on how much I want to dropkick anyone who even looks at her funny. "Mind if I ask how old you are?"

She ducks her head, her pale blonde hair falling around her face like a curtain. "I'm ten," she whispers, so quietly I have to lean in to hear her.

Ten. Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker. This kid is barely out of pull-ups, and here she is, stuck in the middle of this cosmic clusterfuck. I feel a surge of white-hot rage on her behalf, but I tamp it down, forcing a smile that probably looks more like a grimace.

"Ten, huh? Look at you, hitting the big double digits."

Lily lets out a tiny giggle, and the sound makes my heart clench in my chest. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So, how'd you end up shackled to tall, dark, and douchey over there?"

She flinches, her eyes snapping up to meet mine. "Orpheus isn't a douche," she says, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. "He's just... intense."

I raise an eyebrow, biting back a snort. "Intense? That's one word for it. Personally, I'd go with 'nuttier than squirrel shit,' but hey, to each their own."

Lily giggles again, covering her mouth with her hand. "He's not that bad," she insists, but I can hear the doubt in her voice. "He's helping me. With my... problem."

I frown, my spidey senses tingling. "What problem?" I ask, keeping my voice gentle.

Her face falls, and she drops her gaze to the floor. "I don't really wanna talk about it," she mumbles, twisting her fingers together. "It's... personal."

I reach out and squeeze her shoulder, trying to pour every ounce of give-a-shit I have into the gesture. "Hey, I get it. Trust me, I've got enough personal shit to fill a dump truck. But sometimes, it helps to have someone to talk to. Someone who gets it."

She looks up at me, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "You... you really think you'd understand?" she asks, her voice small and uncertain.

I give her a crooked smile. "Kid, I'm dead. At this point, I'd understand if you told me you were secretly a purple polka-dotted platypus."

She takes a deep, shaky breath, glancing around like she's afraid someone might overhear. "I tried to kill myself," she whispers, so quietly I almost miss it. "That's how I ended up here. I just... I couldn't take it anymore. The pain, the emptiness. I thought... I thought anything had to be better than living with that darkness inside me."

I study her for a long moment, taking in the way she seems to curl in on herself, like she's trying to disappear. It's a posture I know all too well - the posture of someone who'd learned the hard way that being seen only led to being hurt.

"Lily," I say softly, crouching down so I can look her in the eye. "I know we just met, but I want you to know that you can talk to me, okay? About anything. I won't judge, and I won't tell a soul. I promise."

Her eyes widen, and I can see the warring emotions in their depths - fear, hope, desperation. "Really?" she breathes, her voice trembling.

I nod, taking her tiny hand in mine. "Really. I know what it's like to be scared, to feel like you're all alone in the world. But you're not alone anymore, Lily. Not as long as I'm around."

Her lower lip wobbles, and for a second, I think she's gonna start bawling. But then she sucks in a deep breath, and the words start tumbling out of her like a fucking avalanche.

"There was a monster," she whispers, her eyes darting around like she expects it to jump out of the shadows. "It... it kept coming into my room at night. Touching me. Hurting me."

I feel like someone has punched me in the gut, all the air whooshing out of my lungs. I know that kind of monster all too well - the kind that wore a human face, that was supposed to keep you safe, not rip you apart from the inside out.

"Lily," I say, my voice shaking with barely contained fury. "This monster... was it your dad?"

Her face crumples, and the tears start flowing down her cheeks as she nods. "I tried to tell my Mom," she chokes out, "but she didn't believe me. She said I was making it up, that Dad would never do something like that."

I have to close my eyes, fighting back the urge to puke. How could anyone look at this sweet, innocent kid and not see the truth? How could anyone be so fucking blind, so goddamn cruel?

"I believe you, Lily," I say fiercely, squeezing her hand like I can somehow pour all my strength into her. "I believe you, and I am so fucking sorry that happened to you. It wasn't your fault, you hear me? Not one bit of it."

She lets out a broken sob, and I pull her into my arms, holding her tight as she cries. I stroke her hair, murmuring whatever comforting bullshit I can think of until her tears start to slow.

"I thought it would be better here," she whispers into my shoulder. "I thought I could escape. But now... now I'm just a toy in a different game. A doll for someone else to play with."

Molten fury erupts inside me, searing through my veins like a motherfucking inferno. My muscles coil tighter than a spring, ready to snap at any moment. The sheer audacity of these dickwads makes me want to go nuclear. What kind of sick, twisted fuckery is this? Taking a kid who'd already been through the wringer and tossing her right back into the shit?

It's beyond fucked up. It's a whole new level of ass-backwards bullshit that makes me want to throat-punch the universe itself. I can feel every fiber of my being vibrating with barely contained rage, like a goddamn atom bomb just waiting for the right moment to detonate.

But even as the anger burns in my veins, even as my body trembles with the need to lash out and make someone bleed, I know I can't let it show. Not now, not when Lily needs me to be the strong one, the one person in this fucked-up afterlife who's in her corner.

"Listen to me, Lily," I say, pulling back so I can cup her face in my hands. "You are not a doll, and you sure as fuck aren't anyone's plaything. You are a person, a brave, strong, amazing person who's been through more shit than anyone should have to deal with and come out the other side."

Her eyes go wide, and I can see a tiny spark of something that might be hope flickering in their depths. "You... you really think so?"

I nod, my jaw set with determination. "I know so. And I also know that you can win this fucked-up game, Lily. You can be reborn, start over, have the life you always deserved. A life where nobody can ever hurt you again."

I know it's a lie, know that there are no guarantees in this cosmic crapshoot. But looking into Lily's tear-streaked face, I can't bring myself to shatter what little hope she has left. She needs something to hold onto, something to keep her going when the darkness threatens to swallow her whole. And if false hope is all I have to offer, then I'll give it to her with a fucking smile.

"Orpheus said that too," she says hesitantly, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. "He said he could help me win, make sure I got a good life next time around."

A flicker of unease twists in my gut at the mention of Orpheus, but I shove it down. "Well, even a broken clock is right twice a day. You can win this, Lily. You just gotta be smart, be strong, and never let the bastards see you sweat."

She nods, a glint of steel in her eyes. "I'll try. I promise, Jane. I'll try."

I smile, feeling a swell of pride for this brave little soul. "I know you will, kid. And I'll be right beside you, every step of the way. We'll show these fuckers what we're made of, yeah?"

She gives me a watery smile, squeezing my hand. "Yeah. We will. You were right, Jane - I'm not alone anymore. And I'll never let them hurt me again. I promise."

I glance up to see Raphael and Orpheus heading back our way, drinks in hand. I school my features into a mask of polite interest, even as my mind races with possibilities.

I still don't know if Lily is friend or foe, still don't know if I can trust her not to stick a knife in my back the first chance she gets.

But looking at her small, determined face, I know one thing for damn sure - I'm gonna do whatever it takes to keep her safe. To give her a fighting chance in this hellhole we've landed in.

Even if it means putting a big old bullseye on my own ass in the process.