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

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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?”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for

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Life in Westwood

stands, wincing as she stretches out

to check. Of course it’s Kellan. Here to pick

Kellan with exasperation. “Don’t you have anything better to

impassive. “There’s nothing in

here? But before I can needle her about it, she shoves past Kellan, leaving me to follow in her

Jericho. Another day of his disapproval

for us, his scarred

“You’re late.”

over the antimist aring at

in Westwood

All you can eat, if

play games? Fine. Run another mile. Both of you. Now.”

shooting Lisa a glare. She shrugs, unrepentant, and takes off at a jog. I follow, my

life now. Early mornings, aching muscles, and a trainer who seems to hate us. But as much

this. Need to be stronger,

myself. For whatever comes

pain. One foot in front of the other. One

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

in

crimson from exertion.

Jericho’s command cuts through the

argument.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels

my head, wincing as the movement sends a fresh wave of agony through my body. “Sorry, Jericho. My legs have

twisting into a sneer. “Well, aren’t you two being real fucking cute today?”

our luck too far. Jericho’s

two options,” he growls, his eyes narrowing to icy slits. “Practice

choose.”

chest. Neither option appeals,

the alternative–incurring Jericho’s wrath-

in Westwood

He likes coming

dry as I force the words past my lips.

expression grim. “Practice,” she echoes,

smile is a razor’s edge, sharp and