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Her body was limp where I’d placed her on my bed, her skin clammy, hair matted to her forehead from sweat, and at the corners of her eyes... tears. Silent, dried streaks like she’d been crying even in her unconsciousness. It gutted me.

This wasn’t her. Josie, my spitfire, the thorn in the side, the mouthy little omega who never knew how to shut up... reduced to this shell that barely twitched when I brushed her cheek.

Something deep inside me twisted. It wasn’t rage, not lik ...

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