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Comrade 32

Comrade 32

The world stood still.

Felicia’s heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else—the whispers of the wind, the labored breaths of the warriors, the distant howls in the forest.

She couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

He killed your brother.

Damien’s words echoed in her mind, over and over, like a drum beating against her skull.

No. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

Her vision blurred as she looked around the battlefield, at the blood-stained ground, at the warriors frozen in shock, waiting for what would happen next. Her chest tightened as a sinking feeling clawed at her insides.

She lifted her gaze, her eyes locking onto Damien, and for the first time in a long time, she saw something different in him. Not anger. Not hatred. But raw, painful honesty.

Her voice came out in a whisper, shaky and uncertain. “What are you talking about, Damien?”

Damien took a step forward, his face a mask of barely contained rage. But his voice, when he spoke, was steady and lethal.

“I’m talking about Lucien,” he said, his eyes darkening. “About what he’s done. You think he’s protecting you? That he’s keeping you safe?” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “He’s the reason your family is broken, Felicia.”

Felicia felt suffocated, like the air had suddenly been stolen from her lungs. She clenched her fists. “Stop being vague, Damien. If you’re going to say something like that, then tell me everything.”

Damien’s jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists before he exhaled sharply, as if forcing himself to remain calm.

“You know about the rogue attack on my pack,” he started, his voice sharp as a blade.

Felicia swallowed, nodding slowly. She had heard about it. Everyone had.

“They didn’t just come to cause chaos,” Damien continued. “They were there for a purpose.” His eyes flickered with something dark. “They killed my clairvoyant.”

Felicia inhaled sharply. His clairvoyant?

The clairvoyant of a pack was its spiritual guide, the wolf who could see into the unseen, sense threats before they arrived. Killing one was more than just an attack—it was a declaration of war.

“That’s not all,” Damien added. His voice hardened, his body tense with barely restrained fury. “We caught one of the rogues.”

Felicia’s stomach tightened. “And?”

Damien’s next words shattered everything.

“The rogue confessed,” he said, each word laced with venom and truth. “He said Lucien sent him.”

Felicia felt like the ground beneath her tilted, like she was falling into a deep, endless abyss.

She turned to Lucien, her entire body trembling. Her heart screamed for him to deny it, for him to tell her this was all a lie.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of her words could break mountains.

“Is this true?”

Lucien’s golden eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected this moment to come.

She took a step closer, her hands shaking. “Is what he’s saying true?”

Lucien finally met her gaze, his face unreadable. But for the first time since she had known him, she saw something else in his expression—bewilderment.

His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Then—

“It’s not.”

Felicia’s breath hitched.

Lucien took a slow step toward her, his golden eyes searching hers. “I didn’t do it, Felicia.” His voice was calm, controlled. Too controlled.

Felicia’s stomach twisted.

She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to believe him.

Felicia’s lips trembled as she turned her gaze back to Damien, desperate for clarity, for anything that made sense.

“Why would a rogue say that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why would he lie?”

Damien’s face was unreadable, but his eyes burned with certainty.

“They don’t lie when they’re dying, Felicia,” he said coldly.

Her knees almost buckled.

Lucien let out a scoff, shaking his head. “Damien, really? You’re taking the word of a dying rogue over mine?”

“I’m taking the word of a man who had nothing left to lose.” Damien snapped back. His gaze flickered to Felicia. “And deep down, you know I’m right.”

Felicia took a step back, suddenly unsure of everything.

Lucien’s face darkened. “You’re doubting me?”

Felicia hesitated.

For the first time in years, she looked at Lucien—really looked at him.

His golden eyes, always so warm, so confident, so full of control.

But now, she wasn’t sure if it was control… or calculation.

Felicia swallowed hard. “Lucien,” she whispered, “I need the truth.”

His jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. “I told you the truth.”

Felicia turned to Damien, her eyes begging for an explanation.

“Lucien has been attacking my pack for months,” Damien said, his voice sharp. “He’s been sending rogues, testing our defenses. This was never about peace, Felicia. It was about waiting for the right moment to destroy us.”

Felicia’s head spun. “That… that doesn’t make sense.”

Lucien let out a low, humorless laugh. “Exactly.” He stepped closer to her, his eyes locking onto hers. “Think, Felicia. If I wanted Damien dead, I would’ve done it already. You know that.”

Felicia’s breath caught.

She did know that.

Comrade

Comrade

Score 9.9
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Comrade Summary & Review: Comrade

Princess Evangeline of Morwyn sat in the quiet waiting room of the royal physician’s office, her mind a whirlwind of fear and fragile hope. The grand palace, bathed in soft afternoon light, felt both like a home and a cage. She had been married to Crown Prince Sebastian of Valdris for three years, but their union was nothing more than a political arrangement—an alliance forged by their fathers to secure peace between their lands.

From the very beginning, Sebastian made it clear that his marriage to Evangeline was purely out of duty, not affection. They slept in separate chambers, exchanged only polite words in public, and maintained a cold civility that masked the emptiness beneath. Evangeline had once dreamed that time might change things, that she might earn his heart, but years of distance had buried that hope deep inside her.

Recently, however, her body had begun to change. She felt nauseated in the mornings, dizzy, and uncommonly tired. These signs, though subtle, stirred a small flame of longing within her—a desperate wish that she might finally be carrying his child. Perhaps, she thought, a baby could soften Sebastian’s heart and give meaning to their lifeless marriage.

When the physician, Master Aldrich, appeared at the doorway, his kind smile gave her both comfort and dread. He led her into his study, a cozy room filled with the scent of herbs, the warmth of a crackling fire, and shelves of ancient medical texts. Evangeline sat nervously as the old man took a sealed parchment from his desk.

With a gentle voice, Master Aldrich delivered the news that would change everything: “Your Highness, I’m delighted to tell you that you are indeed expecting.”

Evangeline’s breath caught in her throat. Her trembling hands broke the royal seal and scanned the words written neatly across the parchment. Pregnant. She was truly with child. Before she could even absorb the shock, Master Aldrich continued, beaming with joy—she was not carrying just one baby, but twins.

The revelation sent a rush of emotion through her—relief, disbelief, joy. Twins! Two heirs for the royal family. The weight of that realization made her dizzy, but it also filled her with warmth and purpose. For the first time in years, she smiled with genuine happiness. Perhaps this was the miracle she needed to mend what had long been broken.

In that moment, she imagined Sebastian’s face lighting up with pride and excitement. She pictured him embracing her, maybe even thanking her. The thought filled her with renewed courage. She thanked Master Aldrich graciously and insisted that she would tell Sebastian the news herself. This moment, she decided, must belong to them alone.

Walking through the grand marble corridors of the palace, Evangeline’s heart felt light for the first time in years. Servants bowed as she passed, but she hardly noticed them—her mind was focused only on Sebastian and the life growing inside her. She wanted to see him, to share the joy, to believe that maybe, just maybe, love could still bloom between them.

As she approached the door of Sebastian’s private study, her steps quickened. She called out softly, “Sebastian! My lord, I have the most wonderful news to—”

But her voice faltered.

Through the half-open door, Evangeline froze at the sight before her. Her husband stood with Lady Cordelia Ashworth, daughter of the Duke of Greymont, wrapped in his arms. The woman’s fiery red hair cascaded over Sebastian’s shoulders as he held her close. Evangeline’s heart stopped when she saw him tilt Cordelia’s chin upward and press his lips to hers—a tender, passionate kiss filled with the warmth and love she had begged the heavens for all these years.

It was everything she had ever wanted—and it wasn’t hers.

For a long, unbearable second, Evangeline could only stare. The parchment with her pregnancy confirmation still trembled in her hand. Then, in a broken whisper, she said his name: “Sebastian…”

The Crown Prince turned sharply, surprise flashing across his features before being quickly masked by his usual calm. Cordelia paled and stepped back, though Sebastian’s arm lingered protectively around her waist.

“Evangeline,” he said evenly, as though she were a stranger interrupting him, “what brings you here?”

Her throat tightened. She forced herself to stand tall, even as tears burned behind her eyes. “I… I live here,” she managed, her voice quivering. “I’m your wife.”

Sebastian’s cold gaze didn’t soften. “Is there something you need?” he asked, the same way he might address a court official.

Something inside Evangeline broke. Just minutes ago, she had been radiant with hope, ready to tell him that she carried his children—the future of his line. But now, staring at the indifference in his eyes and the woman in his arms, she realized the truth she had avoided for too long.

He would never love her. Not even their unborn children could change that.

A calmness settled over her—a cold, regal resolve that masked the chaos in her chest. Straightening her shoulders, Evangeline met his gaze with all the dignity her title demanded.

“Yes, my lord,” she said clearly. “There is something I need.”

Sebastian raised a brow, perhaps expecting her to plead, to cry, to beg for an explanation. Instead, she spoke words that shattered the silence of the study.

“I want an annulment.”

Both Sebastian and Cordelia froze. The shock in their eyes was almost satisfying. Cordelia gasped aloud, pressing a hand to her mouth, while Sebastian’s expression turned dark and unreadable.

“What did you say?” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Evangeline’s chin lifted higher. Her hands no longer trembled. “You heard me perfectly,” she said. “I want our marriage annulled.”

In that instant, the timid princess who had once waited for scraps of affection was gone. What remained was a woman who had found her strength—not through her husband’s love, but through the pain he had caused.

Inside, she knew she carried the next heirs of the throne—his heirs—but she would not allow that to bind her to a man who treated her like a political pawn. She would raise her children with dignity, even if she had to walk away from the palace to do it.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the crackle of the fireplace and the unspoken consequences of her declaration. But Evangeline didn’t wait for a reply. Gathering her skirts, she turned toward the door, her heart broken yet unburdened.

Her steps echoed through the marble halls as she walked away from the man who had never seen her—and toward the freedom she was finally claiming for herself.

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