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?”

deep breath, steeling myself for another day of torture.

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Ava: Life in

out her legs. “But let’s

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

Kellan with exasperation.

in my life more

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

Another day of his disapproval and disdain. I’m really starting to like him, but also I hate him

us, his scarred

scowl. “You’re late.”

aring at him “We’ll make

Lile in Westwood

tomorrow? All you can eat, if we can just take

“You want to play games? Fine. Run another mile.

back a groan, shooting Lisa a glare. She shrugs, unrepentant, and takes off at a jog. I follow, my legs protesting with

is my life now. Early mornings, aching muscles, and a trainer who seems to hate us.

I need this. Need

For whatever comes next.

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

time we manage 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 liquefied, reduced to useless, quivering jelly. Beside me, Lisa’s

Ava Life in

crimson from

Jericho’s command cuts through the haze of exhaustion, his tone brooking

argument.

the sound a pitiful whimper. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to

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

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

that we’ve pushed our luck too far. Jericho’s patience, it seems, has reached its limit.

have two options,” he growls, his eyes narrowing to icy

choose.”

a leaden weight in my chest. Neither

the alternative–incurring

Life in

far worse. He likes coming up with punishments.

as I force the words

expression grim. “Practice,” she echoes, her

razor’s edge,