"This is bold, even for you."
Zareth's voice was laced with amusement as he leaned against his ornate desk, fingers drumming lazily on its polished surface. The grand study was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of aged whiskey and old parchment. He exuded an air of unbothered dominance, watching his uninvited guests with an expression bordering on amusement.
Archer's jaw was clenched, his stance rigid with barely restrained fury. "Where is she?"
Zareth exhaled, swirling the drink in his hand. "You assume I have her?"
"Enough with the games, Zareth," Artemis snapped, his patience fraying.
Zareth arched a brow, his smirk deepening. "Oh, I assure you, if I had the girl, you'd know. But it seems Arthur got to her first."
Silence thickened in the room.
"You let him take her?" Archer growled.
Zareth scoffed, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "Let? You think I care enough to stop him?" He tilted his head slightly. "Your mate, your problem."
