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?”

deep breath, steeling myself for another

13:37

217

Life in Westwood

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

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

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

“There’s nothing in my life more important than

Well, well. What do we have here? But before I can needle her about it, she shoves past Kellan, leaving me to

to avoid the dread pooling in my stomach. Jericho. Another day of his disapproval and disdain. I’m really starting to like him, but also I hate him more than anyone in this

us, his scarred face

scowl. “You’re

antimist aring at him “We’ll make

in Westwood

bring donuts tomorrow? All you can eat, if we can just take a little break

Fine. Run another mile. Both

glare. She shrugs, unrepentant, and takes

trainer who seems to hate us. But as much

know I need this. Need

For whatever comes next.

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

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 liquefied, reduced to

Ava Life in

flushed crimson from

sit–ups. Now.” Jericho’s command cuts through the haze

argument.

pitiful whimper. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ

through my body. “Sorry, Jericho. My legs have officially died. I’m going to have to

sneer. “Well, aren’t you

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

his eyes narrowing to icy slits. “Practice or

choose.”

chest. Neither

the alternative–incurring

Ava Life in Westwood

worse. He likes coming up with punishments.

as I

grim. “Practice,” she echoes,

edge,