Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 99

Chapter 99 Ava: Life in Westwood (IV)

A plastic thud startles me awake. I crack open an eye to see Lisa's alarm clock skitter across the floor, her arm still extended from the throw.

"I can't do this anymore," she moans into her pillow. "Everything hurts. I think my eyelashes are sore."

I laugh, but it turns into a groan as I slide out of bed, my muscles screaming in protest. Four days of Jericho's training from hell, and my body still hasn't adjusted. I'm not sure it ever will.

"Do you think the bodyguards would murder Jericho if we asked nicely?" Lisa's voice is muffled, her face still buried in her pillow.

"Stop dreaming." I limp to the bathroom, each step an agony. "And get ready. You know he'll just make it worse if we're late."

Lisa's groan follows me as I shut the door, a smile tugging at my lips despite the pain. As much as I hate the early mornings and the constant ache in my muscles, there's a part of me that relishes the challenge. Each day I push myself further, each day I grow stronger.

Selene would be proud.

The thought sobers me as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Four days, and still no sign of her. I'm starting to wonder if she'll ever come back. If I'll ever be whole again.

I splash water on my face, the cold shock chasing away the melancholy thoughts. I can't afford to dwell on what I've lost. Not when I have so much to gain.

By the time I emerge from the bathroom, Lisa is up and dressed, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She shoots me a baleful look as she tugs on her sneakers.

"I hate you for being a morning person."

"I'm not a morning person," I protest, grabbing my water bottle. "I'm just better at pretending than you are."

amusement in her eyes. "Fake it till

breath, steeling myself for another day of torture.

stands, wincing as she stretches out her legs. "But let's

apartment, and Lisa and I groan in unison. We don't have to check.

eyeing Kellan with exasperation. "Don't you have anything better to

expression remains impassive. "There's nothing in my life more

we have here? But before I can needle her about

grounds is mercifully short, but not short enough to avoid the dread pooling in my stomach. Jericho. Another day of his disapproval and disdain. I'm really starting to like him, but also I

his scarred face set in

up to you. How about we bring donuts

games? Fine. Run another mile. Both of you.

a glare. She shrugs, unrepentant, and takes off at a jog. I follow, my legs protesting

a trainer who seems to hate us. But

myself. For

running, pushing through the pain. One foot in front of the other.

five miles—slow as fucking snails, Jericho points out, like he does every damn day—my legs burn. Lactic acid (something I've learned about in recent days) scorches my

Lisa's chest heaves, her face flushed

cuts through the haze of exhaustion, his tone

the sound a pitiful whimper. "You've got to be kidding

the movement sends a fresh wave of agony through my body. "Sorry, Jericho. My legs have officially died. I'm going to have

lip curls, his scarred face twisting into a sneer. "Well, aren't you two being real fucking cute

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