The room wasn't filled with fear.
No, this was worse.
Existential dread.
The five executives, all of whom were seasoned veterans of legal battles, PR storms, and corporate brinkmanship, felt something that clawed deeper than fear. Their instincts screamed at them to move, to run, to do anything but sit there.
But their bodies wouldn't obey.
If the demonic creature before them wasn't bad enough, the three Sinsworn Valkyries behind him loomed at the edges of their vision like silent death. They were unblinking and statuesque, their usual colorful personas nowhere to be seen. Not a shred of empathy or pity could be seen in their gazes. Only cold hatred and the desire to hurt them.
No one breathed.
Vesta's throat clicked as she tried to swallow.
Delia looked at the pendrive like it was a nuclear warhead.
Renzo's knuckles were white where they gripped the arms of his chair.
Marlow was sweating again, his lip twitching with a nervous tic.
