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?”

that.” I take a deep breath, steeling myself for another day of torture. “Ready?”

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Ava: Life in

stands, wincing as she stretches out

don’t have to check. Of course it’s Kellan. Here to pick us up, just like every godforsaken

with exasperation. “Don’t you have anything

“There’s nothing in my

What do we have here?

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.

for us, his

scowl. “You’re late.”

at him “We’ll make it un

in

donuts tomorrow? All you can eat, if we can

play games? Fine.

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

and a trainer who seems

to complain, I know I need this. Need to

Selene. For myself. For whatever

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

day -my legs burn. Lactic acid (something I’ve learned about in recent days) scorches my muscles, a

Ava Life in Westwood (IV)

flushed crimson from

Jericho’s command cuts through the haze of exhaustion, his tone brooking no

argument.

me.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early

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

scarred face twisting into a sneer. “Well,

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

icy slits. “Practice or

choose.”

weight in my chest. Neither option appeals, not

the alternative–incurring Jericho’s wrath-

in Westwood (IV)

worse. He likes coming up with

as I force

she echoes, her voice a hoarse whisper.

razor’s edge,