GOD OF CHAOS

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

JEREMY VOLKOV

He had been nothing more than a ghost in the last few weeks, a shadow haunting the periphery of his own existence. His violent streak had surged, a tempest raging within him, and he fought tooth and nail to keep it under control, to prevent it from consuming him entirely. Since their return from Jeremy's cottage, he hadn't seen or heard from Landon, and a gnawing sense of dread settled in Jeremy's gut, whispering that he might never lay eyes on Landon King again. It made sense, considering how meticulously Jeremy had been avoiding the fight club. He still accompanied Nikolai to fights, but when it came to facing Landon in the ring, Jeremy managed to stay out of it, concocting flimsy excuses to avoid the inevitable confrontation. It was a feeble attempt at maintaining his cover, at shielding himself from the raw intensity of their tangled relationship.

He had betrayed his friends one last time upon his return, carefully orchestrating their focus on the Serpents for Gareth's accident, weaving a web of deceit to divert attention away from Landon. He argued that if Landon were truly responsible, he would have claimed credit by now—a plausible explanation that his friends readily accepted, their suspicions assuaged by Jeremy's convincing façade. But deep down, Jeremy knew better. He knew that Landon had taken credit for it, had flaunted it in Jeremy's face time and time again. Yet Jeremy chose to bury that truth. Because even after Landon confessed to it, Jeremy couldn't bring himself to let go. He couldn't resist the pull of Landon's magnetic presence, the allure of his enigmatic charm. Each time they were together, Jeremy found himself drawn to Landon like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the intoxicating allure of their tumultuous relationship. He pulled Landon close, kissed him, touched him, losing himself in the tangled web of their desires, their passions, their shared torment.

His mind still burned with the images from their secret rendezvous, the clandestine moments of passion and desire that had unfolded between them. Images of him kidnapping Landon, intending to inflict pain, only to find himself ensnared in a dance of lust and passion. Jeremy had accepted the truth soon after his return—that he never truly had the intention of hurting Landon. The weight that settled in his chest during the drive home, after he had made Landon bleed, was proof enough. Somewhere along the line, Jeremy had stopped hating Landon in the way he initially did. Instead, he now harbored a deep-seated resentment towards Landon for everything he represented—the betrayal, the deception, the unraveling of Jeremy's carefully constructed persona.

But that was all in the past now. Landon King was out of his life once and for all—or so Jeremy had convinced himself.

Jeremy stepped out of the shop, a cigarette dangling from his lips, when he heard that voice—the voice that haunted his dreams and tormented his waking hours. His body stiffened involuntarily, every nerve on edge as he braced himself for what was to come. "Look, I don't want trouble."

His head tilted up in the direction of Landon's voice, his heart pounding in his chest. Landon sounded...different. Uneasy, maybe even scared—a stark departure from the confident façade he always projected. "Well, your brother certainly did," another voice chimed in.

Jeremy's feet moved of their own accord, propelling him towards the commotion. "I don't know what he did." Landon's voice was strained with unease. He rounded the corner and spotted them—a familiar face pressed up against the alley wall, but it wasn't Landon. It was Brandon, Landon's brother, who was being confronted by a guy Jeremy vaguely recognized from TKU. The Serpents? "Maybe you should ask him," the guy snarled, his words dripping with venom as he leaned in close to Brandon's face.

Brandon tried to push him away, but it was evident he was holding back, desperately searching for an alternative escape route to avoid violence. He really was different from Landon.