Zeus was already turning toward the exit.
The path back up through the Underworld wasn't long for him—it was a straight line when you could bend space with a thought.
Hades stayed behind, silent, one hand on the scythe, eyes still following Lucifer like he expected him to disappear and reappear behind his back.
Lucifer didn't. He was leaning against a pillar, hands in his pockets, watching Zeus move toward the gates.
"You're leaving already?" he asked, his tone lazy, but the way it cut through the quiet made it feel sharper than it should.
Zeus didn't look at him. "I didn't come here to drink wine and make friends."
Lucifer tilted his head. "Good. I'm terrible company anyway."
Zeus was halfway through the archway when he heard boots behind him—slow steps, unhurried, but definitely following.
He glanced over his shoulder. "You're not coming with me."
Lucifer's brow lifted like he'd just heard a bad joke. "Why not?"
