GOD OF CHAOS

CHAPTER FOUR

LANDON KING

He was now consumed by an obsession. Something that clawed its way into his mind without his awareness. It plagued his thoughts and manifested in his sculptures. It had begun to provide him with the adrenaline rush he craved, something he pursued relentlessly. Something so incredibly intoxicating.

Or rather, someone.

Namely, Jeremy Volkov. The mafia prince whom Landon considered nothing more than a tiny weed that needed to be uprooted up until a month ago, had now become the center of Landon's every thought.

Landon didn't attempt to resist it; he was simply intrigued. After the sex club incident, Landon found himself lingering around places where he knew Jeremy frequented. Though tracking Jeremy wasn't straightforward, Landon was nothing short of a genius. Well, he possessed many other qualities, but his remarkable capabilities in everything he did were certainly notable.

Landon didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he was fairly certain Jeremy was avoiding him. He had anticipated a confrontation, even waited for it, but it never occurred. After dropping Landon and his car off in front of the Elites mansion, Jeremy had left.

Landon had sarcastically called out, asking if Jeremy wanted to have a cup of tea, but Jeremy promptly walked away, ignoring him. That day marked the last time Jeremy had glanced at him. And now, Landon yearned for it—just one look, one expression, one reaction from Volkov was all he needed.

This morning, Landon stared at the messed-up sculpture he had been working on. He couldn't seem to get anything right. Every attempt at sculpting resulted in ruin. Frustration consumed him, and he slammed the entire piece against the wall.

So naturally, he sought out the only thing he could think of lately.

He walked into the empty warehouse. It was the middle of the night in the middle of fucking nowhere, in enemy territory no less. If Landon had an ounce of self-preservation, he would have turned back, but he was never one to calculate the best outcome. Though he did consider his actions, unlike most people, he still followed through with the bad ideas anyway.

This was it—a bad idea.

The warehouse echoed with the sound of punches and grunts, and Landon couldn't help but smile. He walked further in, finally halting as he noticed Jeremy. Jeremy stood shirtless, clad only in a pair of running shorts, his naked back pulsing as he landed punch after punch on the punching bag. Landon's footsteps were barely audible as he moved closer. Jeremy's skin glistened with sweat in the dim light of the warehouse.

Despite his heavy breathing, Jeremy's movements were fluid, as if it were second nature for him to land such hard punches. Landon's cock twitched in his pants.

Yes, that was apparently a thing now. Landon's obsession with Jeremy wasn't just psychological; it was physical too.

"You've been avoiding me," Landon said, his voice calm.

Jeremy froze, the punching bag swinging back as he reached out to catch it. Turning around, he faced Landon, who walked closer.

Surveying the warehouse, Landon nodded to himself. "It's pretty decent what you did to this place." It was a lie; this was the most lifeless, empty gym he had ever seen.

"What are you doing here?" Jeremy snapped.

Landon directed his gaze at Jeremy and smirked. "If I said I missed you, would you believe me?"