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

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Ava Life in Westwood

distance.”

not like I’ve had much opportunity for extracurricular sports, what with being locked away in a pack that didn’t see any point in allowing any enrichment in my

knowing any excuses will only earn me

her hips, glaring at Jericho. “Well, excuse us for

I think Jericho might actually snap at her. But then he barks out a laugh, shaking his head. –“Fair

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

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Life in Westwood

steadier than I feel.

it is.”

his eyes. “Good. Now get to it. I’ll be timing

air thick with humidity, but I push through the discomfort.

survived.

Stronger.

want to be stronger.

depend on anyone for rescue, ever

again.

moans, even though we’ve gone maybe

five feet.

to hold in what

pants, her

into a

coming in. “Shifters aren’t

in Westwood (III)

human, anyway.”

labored breathing and the pounding of our feet against the track. I stumble. She stumbles. It’s inelegant and

water break, and it’s

feet hit

behind us. “You call that

could outpace you,

for a decade.”

together and I push myself harder, gasping

effortless.

land on the balls of your feet, not your

it easier.”

nasty glare I give him does nothing, because he doesn’t even look at me to appreciate it. I adjust my breathing and stride, surprised

to like him,” I

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Ava: Life in

I think he might actually be good deep

from me, and Jericho’s head