Page 94 of Psycho Beasts

From the three-hundred-pound dumbbells she was casually slinging up and down in each hand, it wasn’t just for looks.

She was everything I aspired to be: strong, beautiful, and more impressive than any man.

“You’re my hero,” I blurted.

Molly chuckled and smiled kindly. “Let’s get to work.”

Chapter 17

Sadie

UM, HELP?

Never meet your heroes.

Molly smiled sweetly as she chanted above me, “Two hundred.”

My noodle arms trembled, and I collapsed face first.

After five minutes of struggling to lift my body upward, it was clear that I couldn’t do another pushup, no matter how hard I tried.

The music pounding through the hazy room screeched something about death and pain. Extremely relatable.

Molly sighed heavily. “You can do the baby version on your knees.”

“You’re my angel.” I stared up at her with adoration, and she stared down at me with a mix of pity and boredom.

She was a kind queen.

My gratitude didn’t last long.

Who knew that push-ups on your knees became ridiculously hard after two hundred reps? Upsetting.

“Four hundred and two,” Molly counted for me as she continued to hoist her three-hundred-pound weights like they were nothing.

“Is there another version I can do now?” I gasped as I twitched my chest down and up, boobs barely moving an inch off the mat.

Molly’s voice sounded far away as a wind-tunnel sensation whistled in my ears. “Sure, lie flat on the mat and don’t move.”

Instantly, I flopped down and closed my eyes, heaving with relief as oxygen filled my starved lungs.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize the beautiful tinkling sound was Molly chuckling.

She wasn’t laughing with me—I was preoccupied drowning in saliva and imitating a log—so that meant she was laughing at me.

Molly had been joking.

Moaning like a dying cow, I struggled back onto my knees, and a single tear tracked down my face.

I waited for the derogatory comment about how pathetic and weak I was as I struggled to plant my hands in front of me.

Was it possible to be born without pectoral muscles? Because I swore to the sun god that there was nothing but bone beneath my small boobs.

Impressive thighs squatted close to my head, and Molly said quietly, “Half the gym is staring at you right now, and as a female alpha, you’re always going to be scrutinized. Show them who you are.”

Fiery indignation swept through me, and I nodded.

Also, another tear streaked down my cheek because supportive women always made me emotional.

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