Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 105 Ava: Training (II)

Halfway around the track, Jericho pops up again.

There's never been a person I've love-hated as much as him, and I have a fucked up family that inspires all kinds of hate to go with the love a family shares.

"What," I grunt as I lunge forward, stretching my legs and dipping down with my wildly weak arms. They're beyond trembling. They're like jello, and I can barely raise the dumbbells from my sides.

But I don't stop.

"Straighten your back," Jericho growls, eyeing my pose critically. "Keep your core tight."

I adjust my stance, trying to maintain balance as my leg muscles quiver. Jericho grunts, apparently finding my form acceptable, before shoving something at me.

"Here. Two pound dumbbells. Never had to start someone so low before."

I glance down at the weights, surprised to see they're a cute, bright pink color. They look pristine, like they've never been touched.

"Did you have someone buy these for me?" The question slips out before I can stop myself.

Jericho's eyes narrow. "None of your business," he barks, turning on his heel and storming off towards Lisa, who's struggling through her own set of lunges.

I can't help but giggle—in my head, because I have no breath to spare—as I continue the exercise, the small weights clutched in my hands. Despite Jericho's gruff demeanor, the fact that he went out of his way to get these for me sends a unexpected wave of warmth through my chest.

It's a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. Beneath his tough exterior, maybe Jericho isn't quite as cold as he seems.

"Lift those arms higher, Grey! You think this is a game?" Jericho's voice cuts through my momentary warmth like a knife.

my muscles. Sweat

back. Jericho is a heartless bastard after all. A sadistic, merciless drill sergeant determined to

him through the strands of hair plastered to my forehead. He meets my gaze, unflinching, a smirk playing at the corners

could stop? Keep going!" He

one of these pretty pink dumbbells at his head. Barely. Instead, I force myself to continue, each lift sending fresh shockwaves of agony through

uncontrollably. I'm pretty sure this is what dying feels like. But I won't give Jericho the satisfaction of seeing me quit. I'll finish

You got this!" Lisa calls out from somewhere

Poor Lisa. She's struggling as much as

words like a lifeline, drawing strength from her support. We're in this together, suffering under Jericho's tyrannical

this. I have to do this. For

through the pain, the exhaustion, the overwhelming desire to collapse on

Three. Each lift is a battle, a war waged against my own limitations. But I keep

the track. I have no

the ground, I lose all control over my shaking

the Westwood wolves go through

Jericho scoffs, answering my unintentionally spoken question. "Not a single Westwood wolf is born as weak as

energy, I'd protest his cruel

I don't have

said, I'm

energy to talk

mean, I'm basically

us to hear. "Please. These are conditions for a human baby, and yet all you two do is squawk

out weakly, having at some point falling to the ground to

walk until