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083 | A way to end this

Rhiannon’s POV

I stared helplessly into the wardrobe. My knees hurt from being pressed to the floorboards, but I could barely feel the pain. I was dimly aware that it was there but numb to everything physical.

“No,” said Stephen. From the corner of my eye I saw him shake his head vehemently. “She wouldn’t have just run away. Why would she? Things are starting to look up. We have a food supply again. And she was about to be awarded the Chalice of Bravery! That’s never been given to an Omega before. Never. Why would she willingly miss out on that?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, reaching into the pile of mess at the bottom of her otherwise empty wardrobe and pulling out a tatty old sweater. It had been her favourite as a child; it was hideously pink and sparkly, with fluff around the hems, but she’d worn it until it had come apart at the seams.

I smiled to myself, but it was a sad, sorrowful smile. “Dad had to sew this up for her,” I murmured, more to myself than to Stephen. “He sewed it
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