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

19:31 O

112

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.”

had much opportunity for extracurricular sports, what with being locked away in a pack that didn’t see any point in allowing

excuses will only earn me another

us for not being born with an innate knowledge of track and field. How about you enlighten us instead

head. –“Fair enough.

I

keep count.”

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 become strong enough

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Life in Westwood

I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Twelve laps

it is.”

something akin to approval flickering in his eyes. “Good. Now

The sun beats down on us, the air thick with humidity, but I push through the discomfort. Each step, each breath, is a

survived.

Stronger.

want to

on anyone

again.

Lisa moans, even though we’ve gone maybe

five feet.

hold in what little air

pants, her face

into a

enough coming in. “Shifters aren’t

in Westwood

human, anyway.”

labored breathing and the pounding of our feet against

already want a water break, and it’s

our feet hit the track.

booms from behind us. “You call

grandmother could outpace you, and

dead for a decade.”

together and I push myself harder, gasping at the effort. Jericho catches up, his strides

effortless.

diaphragm, not your chest. And land on the balls of your feet, not your heels. It’ll make

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 find it does help. Beside me, Lisa

I’m starting to like him,” I

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617

Ava: Life in

I think he might actually be good deep

and