Tangled

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. O

“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

1332

112

99 Ava: Life in Westwood (IV)

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.”

Lisa snorts, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Fake it till you make it, right?”

take a deep breath, steeling myself for another day of

13:37

217

Ava: Life in Westwood (IV)

she stretches out her legs. “But let’s do this

I groan in unison. We don’t have to check. Of course it’s Kellan. Here to pick us up, just like every godforsaken morning.

open the door, eyeing Kellan with exasperation. “Don’t you

nothing in my life

creeps up her cheeks. Well, well. What do we have here? But before I can

enough to avoid the dread pooling in my stomach. Jericho. Another day of his

predicted, he’s waiting for us, his scarred face

scowl. “You’re

at him “We’ll make it un

Ava Lile in Westwood

you. How about we bring donuts tomorrow? All you can eat, if we can just take a little break today…”

scowl deepens. “You want to play games? Fine.

bite back a groan, shooting Lisa a glare. She shrugs, unrepentant, and takes off at a jog. I

aching muscles, and a trainer who seems to hate

this. Need to be stronger, faster,

For whatever

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

five miles–slow as fucking snails, 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 pulses with each labored breath. I’m convinced my limbs have

Life in Westwood (IV)

crimson from exertion.

the haze of

argument.

kidding me.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access

wincing as the movement sends a fresh wave of agony through my body. “Sorry, Jericho. My legs have officially died. I’m going to have to

his scarred face twisting into a sneer. “Well, aren’t you

that we’ve pushed our luck too far. Jericho’s patience,

icy

choose.”

weight in my chest. Neither option appeals,

alternative–incurring Jericho’s

in Westwood

likes

swallow hard, my mouth dry as I force

nods, her expression grim. “Practice,” she

edge, sharp and