Tangled

105 Ava: Training (II)

Halfway around the track, Jericho pops up again.

There’s never been a person I’ve love–hated as much as him, and I have a fucked up family that inspires all kinds of hate to go with the love a family shares.

“What,” I grunt as I lunge forward, stretching my legs and dipping down with my wildly weak arms. They’re beyond trembling. They’re like jello, and I can barely raise the dumbbells from my sides.

But I don’t stop.

“Straighten your back,” Jericho growls, eyeing my pose critically. “Keep your core tight.”

I adjust my stance, trying to maintain balance as my leg muscles quiver. Jericho grunts, apparently finding my form acceptable, before shoving something at me.

“Here. Two pound dumbbells. Never had to start someone so low before.”

I glance down at the weights, surprised to see they’re a cute, bright pink color. They look pristine, like they’ve never been touched.

105 Ava Training (1)

“Did you have someone buy these for me?” The question slips out before I can stop myself.

Jericho’s eyes narrow. “None of your business,” he barks, turning on his heel and storming off towards Lisa, who’s struggling through her own set of lunges.

I can’t help but giggle–in my head, because I have no breath to spare–as I continue the exercise, the small weights clutched in my hands. Despite Jericho’s gruff demeanor, the fact that he went out of his way to get these for me sends a unexpected wave of warmth through my chest.

It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. Beneath his tough exterior, maybe Jericho isn’t quite as cold as he

seems.

“Lift those arms higher, Grey! You think this is a game?” Jericho’s voice cuts through my momentary warmth like a knife.

grit my teeth, forcing my arms up despite the burn radiating through my muscles. Sweat pours down my face, stinging my

back. Jericho is a heartless bastard

15:23

Training

drill

break me.

my gaze, unflinching, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He’s enjoying this,

Did I say you could stop? Keep going!” He barks, folding his arms across his chest. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ

throw one of these pretty pink dumbbells at his head. Barely. Instead, I force

on fire, trembling uncontrollably. I’m pretty sure this is what dying feels like. But I won’t give Jericho the satisfaction of seeing me quit. I’ll finish

if it kills me.

from somewhere

course, Jericho yells at her, too. Poor Lisa. She’s struggling as much as I am.

words like a lifeline

15:23

Training (II)

together, suffering under

this. For myself, for Lisa, and maybe just a little

Jericho.

exhaustion, the overwhelming desire to

lift is a battle, a war waged against my own limitations. But I keep going, fueled by sheer stubbornness and the refusal to let

Jericho break me.

track. I have no idea

control over my shaking arms. I’m panting, my heart racing, my entire

the Westwood wolves go through this

close” Jericho

“Not a single Westwood wolf is born as weak as you

I had the energy, I’d protest his cruel words.

I don’t have

I’m basically dead now.

her own exercises, pipes up. It’s amazing how she still has the energy to talk. after everything. “Hey, this isn’t

mean, I’m basically human too…

for us to hear. “Please. These are conditions for