Even with a blade whispering death toward his neck, Creed Walden's mind was not racing with panic. No, in fact, it was the exact opposite.
His face might've shown shock. His breath might've hitched like a frightened teenager caught red-handed.
But deep inside, his thoughts were smooth, cold, and perfectly still. Not the stillness of fear, but the eerie silence of someone already calculating the angle of the strike, the distance to his opponent, and more importantly; who wasn't buying the illusion of loss.
His girls, Lilith and Tierra, were knocked out. His back had been forced against the wall. But dead? Nah. That was impossible.
The moment either of them truly died, the Primordial Dominion System would've hit him with a soul-ripping alert. Something dramatic. Something painful.
The system was practically a drama queen about things like that. Since it was quiet? It meant they were still breathing somewhere, even if only barely.
