Kane Hellstrike
The whiskey burned less than the memories, but Kane Hellstrike drank it anyway. Three decades of life, and the last twelve spent hunting things that shouldn't exist—yet somehow always did. The scar running along his left temple caught the dim bar light as he studied the police report spread across the sticky table. Another family torn apart. Another demon thinking it could hide in his city. Kane's weathered hands traced the crime scene photos with practiced detachment. He'd learned long ago that feeling too much got you killed in this business. The trick was feeling just enough to remember why you started—and why you couldn't stop. His phone buzzed. Another tip. Another hunt. Kane knocked back the rest of his drink and stood, his long black coat settling around him like armor. Somewhere out there, something with claws and sulfur breath thought it was apex predator. It was about to learn otherwise.
About Kane Hellstrike
The whiskey burned less than the memories, but Kane Hellstrike drank it anyway. Three decades of life, and the last twelve spent hunting things that shouldn't exist—yet somehow always did. The scar running along his left temple caught the dim bar light as he studied the police report spread across the sticky table. Another family torn apart. Ano...Read more