Artemis had a way of appearing when you least expected it. One second you were sneaking through the League’s armory, the next, her shadow stretched across the wall like a predator, her blades gleaming with that familiar lethal precision.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she hissed, her voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. Her eyes locked on yours, fury and disappointment sparking behind her Amazon composure.

You leaned casually against a crate, arms crossed, trying to seem nonchalant. “I know,” you said, forcing a grin. “But… do you like me better when I’m a traitor?”

Her jaw tightened, and for a split second, her calm warrior mask faltered. Then she lunged, blades flashing, and you barely dodged, rolling across the cold floor. The sound of steel slicing air made your heart pound. Artemis was beautiful, terrifying, and completely merciless when angered.

“You think this is a game?” she snapped, circling, blades twirling with a controlled grace that would have been mesmerizing if you weren’t the target.

“It’s not a game,” you shot back, grin still teasing, “but maybe we can make it fun.”

Artemis growled, eyes narrowing, lunging again. You ducked, grabbed a pole, spun, and managed to deflect one of her strikes—not much, but enough to feel a flicker of victory. She tilted her head, clearly unimpressed. “Fun? You’re trying to charm your way out of this?”

“Charm works better than fear,” you said, hopping back as she advanced. “And besides… look at you. You love it.”

Her scowl deepened, but the corner of her mouth twitched. She didn’t answer—she couldn’t. Instead, she struck again, faster this time, and you dodged just in time, rolling under her swing. The clash of steel rang through the hall like a storm.

“You’re reckless,” she spat, but her eyes betrayed something more—amusement, even admiration buried beneath layers of discipline.

“And you’re predictable,” you countered, spinning on your heel and narrowly avoiding a second strike. “See? Perfect balance. We’re… kind of made for this.”

Artemis hissed in frustration, flipping backward and landing gracefully, poised for another attack. “Made for this?” she echoed. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, breathless, “but the best kind of idiot.”

For a long beat, she froze, blades lowering slightly, just enough for you to catch your breath. Your grin softened, eyes meeting hers. “I know I screwed up. But… if you’re honest—”

“Stop,” she said, eyes flashing dangerously, but you noticed the slight pause, the way her shoulders relaxed ever so fractionally. She wanted to hurt you, yes. But maybe, just maybe, she also… didn’t hate that you were still standing, still teasing, still alive.

You couldn’t resist one last jab. “You still like me better when I’m a traitor.”

Artemis let out a sharp exhale, spinning her blades with a flourish. “Maybe. But don’t push your luck, mortal.”

And just like that, the fight ended—or at least paused. You were sweaty, bruised, heart racing, and entirely aware that Artemis had just reminded you why she was impossible, infuriating, and yet utterly magnetic.

In the quiet that followed, you couldn’t help but smile. She was lethal, uncompromising, and completely in control. You were lucky to be alive… and foolish enough to want it again.