Bounty Hunter [REWRITTEN VERSION]

Chapter 33: I'm the Guy Who Lives Here!

ALEC

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, completely baffled by the sudden appearance of the dark-clad stranger standing before him.

How the guy managed to sneak up and enter the house without any of them noticing was beyond him, but it immediately put Alec on the defence as the gun in his belt came out as a reflex and he focused a newfound furrowed gaze at the unknown person.

Without the table to create a separating distance between them, the stranger probably would have stood eye to eye with Alec, if not just a hint lower. Though more on the slender side at first look, beneath the thin black rolled up long-sleeve shirt he wore, Alec could tell the man was well built. Lean but sturdy, and the way he stood alone told you he wasn't one to break easily under a push or a shove, quite the opposite. His hands came out of the pockets of his dark cargo-pants, and Alec noticed the black leather fingerless gloves he wore as those hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

"Who the hell are you?!" the opposer shot back instantly, taking a stance opposite to him and regarding him coldly. Despite the threatening glare on Alec's face and the gun he held tight in one hand, the language of the stranger read he was unfazed by such a thing, as if it wasn't even there. Coal-black hair swept just above his eye-line as teeth clenched and his head bowed slightly forward, not in a submissive manner but in a way that reminded Alec of a predator prepared to launch itself at its target. His gaze locked directly on with eyes the colour of steel, eyes that held an unmistakable combination of mistrust, stupor, and strangely, bewilderment, all masked behind an accusative glare.

Alec didn't know who this guy was, but something was off. If they were under attack, it wouldn't make sense why he was asking who they were. But Alec's mind wasn't working correctly at the moment, he wasn't thinking as straight as he should have been. All he knew was there was a suspiciously outlaw looking man that he had found sneaking through the halls as he came inside.

"I asked first, pal," Alec shot a look that promised danger. "And last I checked, I'm not the one staring down the wrong end of the barrel here."

He noted how the stranger's gaze reflexively glanced at his weapon, even if only for a split second before flickering back to him.

Then the steel-eyed stranger did something unexpected for a man in his current predicament; he shoved his hands back into his pockets, closed his eyes, and let out a tired sigh—the perfect image of relaxed and irritated, as if this was all just some inconvenience to him as he muttered, "Well, ain't this an interesting way to finish my day.." Sarcasm radiated off of each syllable and his shoulders went slightly lax with lack of energy.

"How about you answer the question before I decide to shoot you out of impatience," Alec responded. In his experience, the threat to shoot someone even if you knew you weren't really going to was always a good way to get reluctant people to start talking. But in this case however, something about this stranger made him wish he was being one hundred percent serious.

The guy shot him a look of pure steely annoyance. Rattled by the threat or not, the promise of trouble following if he didn't answer was still there.

"Alright fine..." the stranger gritted. "I'm the guy who fucking lives here," he growled, obvious accusation and irritation at being threatened and interrogated in his own home radiating through his words. "Now who the hell are you and what the fuck are you doing in my house?" he demanded in return.