Tangled

98 Ava: Life in Westwood (III)

After several rounds of Jericho demanding we attack him, only for us to end up on the ground with new bruises every time, I collapse onto the dusty ground, chest heaving, lungs screaming for air. Sweat pours down my face, stinging my eyes. Lisa lies beside me, equally drenched, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Jericho looms over us, his scarred face impassive.

“Pathetic. You’d be dead the moment a wolf looked at

you wrong.”

I glare up at him, too winded to retort. He jerks his head, motioning for us to rise. “On your feet. Follow

me.”

-Somehow, I stagger upright, my muscles trembling with exhaustion. Lisa groans as she pushes herself up, her face flushed and hair plastered to her forehead.

Jericho leads us to the track, his stride purposeful. “You’re so weak, you’d probably break your necks running through the woods. From now on, five miles around this track every morning.”

I gape at him, but he’s not finished. He rattles off a list

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98 Ava: Life in Westwood (III)

of exercises–push–ups, sit–ups, something called burpees, some lunges that I’m not entirely certain how to do without a visual–that we’ll be doing daily to

build strength. Lisa makes a noise of despair beside

1. me.

Jericho’s piercing gaze finds mine. “Alpha Westwood will be gone at least another month dealing with the Blackwood situation. Don’t expect him to swoop in and

save you.”

Something hot and defiant rises in my chest. I lift my chin, meeting his stare head–on. “I wouldn’t want to be saved anyway.”

For the first time, a hint of a smile tugs at Jericho’s lips. “You’ve got guts, girl. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

-Lisa stares at the track, dejection dripping from her pores. “How many times do we have to go around for five miles?”

I shrug, just as clueless. “No idea.”

Jericho scoffs, his lip curling in disdain, I’m starting to think that’s his default look. “Unbelievable. You two are so sheltered you don’t even know how to track

217

C

in

distance.”

locked away in a pack that didn’t see

any excuses will only earn

no such reservations. She plants her hands on her hips, glaring at Jericho. “Well, excuse us for not being born with an innate knowledge of track and field.

laugh, shaking his head. –“Fair enough. Twelve laps around this track is roughly five miles. And before you ask, yes,

I

keep count.”

eye the track, the red rubber seeming to stretch on forever. Twelve laps. My legs ache just thinking about it. But I straighten my spine, determined not to show weakness. If this is what it takes to

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in Westwood (III)

voice steadier

it is.”

his eyes. “Good. Now

the air thick with humidity, but I push through the discomfort. Each step, each breath, is

survived.

Stronger.

to be

don’t want to depend on anyone for rescue,

again.

dying” Lisa moans, even though we’ve

five feet.

lungs burning as they expand to hold in what little air I manage to gather.

inhuman,” she pants,

turning into a wheeze.

not enough coming in. “Shifters

Ava Life in Westwood (III)

human, anyway.”

groans, and we both fall silent, the only sound our labored breathing and the pounding of our feet against the track. I stumble. She stumbles. It’s inelegant and I’m starting to think

already want a water break, and it’s

feet hit

behind us.

grandmother could outpace you,

for

I push myself harder, gasping at the effort. Jericho catches up,

effortless.

your chest. And land on the balls of your

it easier.”

doesn’t even look at me to appreciate it. I

I’m starting to like him,”

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Life in

hate him. But… I think he might actually be

from me, and