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,

Jericho is a

15:23

Training

drill

break me.

at him through the strands of hair plastered to my forehead. He meets my gaze, unflinching, a smirk playing at the corners of his

Keep going!” He barks, folding his arms across his chest. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters

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

this is what dying feels like. But I won’t give Jericho

if it kills

Lisa calls out from somewhere to my left, her voice strained

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

words

15:23

Training (II)

together, suffering under

a few more reps. I can do this. I have to do this. For myself, for Lisa, and maybe just a little

Jericho.

ounce of determination I possess, pushing through the pain, the exhaustion, the

waged against my own limitations. But I keep going, fueled by sheer

Jericho break me.

I have no

weights to the ground, I lose all control over my shaking arms. I’m panting, my heart racing, my entire body drenched in sweat.

Westwood wolves go through this level

even close” Jericho scoffs, answering

single Westwood wolf is born as weak as

I’d protest his

don’t have any.

said, I’m basically

has the energy to talk. after everything. “Hey, this isn’t fair! You’re putting

I’m basically

just loud enough for us to hear. “Please. These are conditions for a human baby, and yet all