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

13:37

217

in Westwood (IV)

wincing as she stretches out

knock reverberates through the apartment, and Lisa and I groan in unison. We don’t have to check. Of course it’s Kellan.

with exasperation. “Don’t

in my life more important

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

to the training grounds is mercifully short, but not short enough 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 world.

he’s waiting for us, his scarred face set

“You’re

antimist aring at him “We’ll

Ava Lile in Westwood (IV)

can eat, if we can

to play games? Fine. Run another mile. Both

shrugs, unrepentant, and takes off at a jog. I follow, my legs

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

complain, I know I need this. Need to be stronger,

For myself. For whatever comes next.

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

days) scorches my muscles, a deep, throbbing ache that pulses with each labored breath. I’m convinced

Ava Life in Westwood

flushed crimson from exertion.

the

argument.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt

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

a sneer. “Well, aren’t you two being real fucking cute

glance, a silent acknowledgment that we’ve pushed our luck too far. Jericho’s patience, it

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

choose.”

sinks, a leaden weight in my chest. Neither option appeals, not with my

alternative–incurring Jericho’s wrath-

in Westwood

worse. He likes coming up

as I force the words

grim. “Practice,” she echoes, her

edge, sharp and unforgiving. “Good