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."

there's a glimmer of amusement in her

a deep breath, steeling myself for

out her legs. "But let's do

through the apartment, and Lisa and I groan in unison. We don't have to check. Of course it's Kellan. Here

the door, eyeing Kellan with

remains impassive. "There's nothing in

raise a brow at Lisa as a blush creeps up her cheeks. Well, well. What do we have here? But before I can needle her about it, she shoves

not short enough to avoid the dread pooling in my stomach. Jericho. Another day of his disapproval and disdain. I'm

us, his scarred face set

optimist, grins at him. "We'll make it up to you. How about we bring

"You want to play games? Fine. Run another mile. Both of

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

aching muscles, and a trainer who seems to hate us. But as much as I want to complain, I know I need this. Need

myself. For whatever comes

teeth and keep running, pushing through the pain. One foot in front of the

Jericho points out, like he does every damn day—my legs burn. Lactic acid (something I've learned about in recent days) scorches my muscles, a deep, throbbing ache that

Lisa's chest heaves, her face

the haze of exhaustion, his tone brooking no

a pitiful whimper. "You've got to be

wave of agony through my body. "Sorry, Jericho. My legs have officially died. I'm

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

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