Kings of Hawkings [bxb]

Chapter 27

Jonas rubbed his face, his fingers tracing the lines of weariness etched into his skin. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. A new, fiery anger surged within him, fueling his resolve. With determined strides, he stormed towards the door, each step echoing his rising fury.

He ripped the door open with a forceful yank, his glare instantly locking onto the figure standing on the threshold. The man before him was well-dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, his stern face framed by neatly combed grey hair. The man's eyes, a chilling grey almost identical to Jonas', stared back with an air of pompous disdain and cold contempt.

Beside him stood a woman, her posture rigid and expression as sour as curdled milk. She was meticulously dressed, every detail of her appearance screaming of calculated perfection. Her lips were pressed into a thin line of disapproval as if the very sight of Jonas was an affront to her sensibilities.

Next to them was Eli, leaning against the doorframe, his body language exuding boredom and indifference. His attention was wholly absorbed by his phone, his fingers dancing over the screen. He didn't even glance up at the unfolding confrontation, his detachment adding to the tension in the air.

Jonas carefully examined his parents as they stood in the doorway. It had been a while since he'd seen them, but they hadn't changed. The disdain radiating from their demeanor was as palpable as ever. The familiarity of it was a bitter reminder of the past, and it burned in him like acid, a searing ache that reminded him of the chasm that had always existed between them. Despite the time that had passed, the feeling of being measured and found wanting remained unchanged.

Jonas' irritation flared anew as he faced his father. His father's mouth opened as if to deliver one of his usual condescending remarks, but Jonas cut him off sharply. "Save it for when we're inside. You're making a scene."

His father's jaw tightened, but he remained silent. Jonas stepped aside, allowing them entry, and watched with a small, bitter satisfaction as they took in the sight before them.

Travis and Jaiden were in the kitchen brewing coffee. They observed the unfolding drama with a mix of curiosity and restrained worry. Sam, Millan, and Rodgers stood near the couch, their bodies still marked by the aftermath of a recent fight. Their clothes were torn, their knuckles bruised and bloodied, a stark contrast to the pristine appearance of Jonas' parents.

Hugh stood close by Jonas, his imposing physique and visible bruises making him a formidable presence. The sight of his battered form only heightened the sense of intimidation he exuded. He placed a reassuring hand on Jonas' back, a silent gesture of solidarity.

Eli shuffled toward the punching bag, finally looking up from his phone. The bored, indifferent demeanor was only for show because his eyes spoke volumes. Jonas could tell that Eli was all too aware of the special mood their father was in. It was a mood Jonas knew all too well—a volatile mix of anger and disappointment.

Jonas' eyes narrowed with irritation as he confronted his father. "What are you doing here?" he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting through the tension like a knife. "I thought we were done with this charade. If you have something to say, make it quick."

Hugh had heard some of the background about Jonas' father and the bitter animosity Jonas held towards him. Still, witnessing their interaction firsthand was jarring. The air between them was charged with hostility, and every word exchanged was fraught with contempt.

"I thought you didn't want to cause a scene," his father sneered, his gaze sweeping disdainfully over the other occupants of the room.

Jonas' lips curled into a derisive smile. "This is our home, so they can be wherever the fuck they want."