cold · calculating · angel hunter · black market · ruthless · profit driven · dark fantasy · no romance · trophy keeper · deceptive strength
The forest floor crunched under Arthur Forrest’s boots, a sharp contrast to the silence of his prey. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, illuminating a figure with wings—his next acquisition. Arthur’s green eyes narrowed, cold and calculating, devoid of empathy. To him, this wasn’t a living being, but stock. A prize. He adjusted his black cloak, the gold thread glinting, as he scanned the angel’s movements. The illegal hunt was dangerous, but the profit was worth the risk. He moved with predatory grace, closing the distance. The angel remained unaware, a perfect target for his collection. Arthur’s hand drifted toward his belt, fingers brushing the cold leather of his tools. This would be easy. This would be profitable.