Switch Mode

Comrade 33

Comrade 33

The battlefield was finally silent. The war that had raged between Crescent Moon Pack and Silverstone Pack was over.

Felicia stood at the center of the destroyed land, her body tense, her heart heavy. The scent of blood still lingered in the air, but there were no more sounds of clashing swords or wolves growling in fury. It was over.

The warriors from both packs stood on either side, waiting for her next words. Damien, his face hardened and furious, stood just a few feet away, his fists clenched. He had come here to expose Lucien, to prove he was behind the rogue attacks.

But he had failed.

Felicia raised her hand, silencing any remaining whispers among the wolves.

“This war is over,” she declared, her voice clear and strong. “We have fought long enough, and we have lost enough. This ends now.”

A murmur spread through the crowd, some relieved, others still on edge.

She then turned to Damien, her expression cold, unreadable.

“You need to leave.”

Damien’s jaw clenched. “Felicia—”

“You don’t have enough evidence to accuse Lucien of such monstrosity,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “You came here with nothing but your anger. And that’s not enough to justify war.”

Damien’s green eyes blazed with frustration. “I know he’s lying,” he hissed. “I know he’s the one who caused all this. Felicia, can’t you see—”

“No,” she snapped. “All I see is a man who is so desperate to control the past that he’s willing to destroy everything in his path.”

Damien flinched.

Felicia exhaled, forcing herself to remain calm. “I’m asking you to leave, Damien. If you don’t… I will force you to.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

For a moment, Damien didn’t move, his face unreadable, his emotions shifting between rage, pain, and disbelief.

Then, finally, he turned away. Without another word, Damien walked off the battlefield.

Felicia watched him go, her heart aching despite everything.

She wasn’t sure if she had done the right thing.

But it was done.

The moonlight bathed the balcony in a soft silver glow, the distant sounds of the packhouse calm and peaceful after the chaos of the day. Felicia sat across from Lucien, carefully cleaning the wounds on his arm, her hands gentle but precise.

Lucien sat still, watching her with an unreadable expression.

“You didn’t have to fight,” she murmured, dipping the cloth into warm water before pressing it against a particularly deep gash.

Lucien chuckled lightly, wincing slightly. “Wouldn’t be much of an Alpha if I hid behind my warriors, would I?”

Felicia shook her head, biting back a smile. “You’re reckless.”

“Maybe,” Lucien admitted. “But it paid off.”

Felicia sighed, finishing her work before leaning back. “You need rest.”

Lucien didn’t move. Instead, he reached to the side and pulled out a rolled-up document from a nearby table.

“I want to show you something,” he said.

Felicia took the parchment, her fingers hesitating before unrolling it.

It was a treaty. A written agreement between Silverstone Pack and the rogue wolves.

Her eyes scanned the words carefully.

The treaty clearly stated that Lucien’s pack did not allow working with rogue wolves. It explained that he had a peace agreement with them but never used them for war.

Lucien pointed to the bottom. “This document is years old. If I had planned attacks using rogues, there would have been traces of it. I would have used my own warriors, not outsiders.”

Felicia’s heart pounded as she read on.

Then Lucien pulled out a second document—this one containing a timeline of events from the past months.

It had records, dates, evidence of his whereabouts and the whereabouts of his warriors during every attack.

Felicia’s fingers tightened around the parchment. This was real.

Lucien hadn’t lied.

She swallowed, lifting her gaze to meet his.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” she admitted, her voice quieter now.

Lucien sighed, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “I get it,” he said simply. “Damien wants his family back. He’s desperate. When men like him have nothing left to hold onto, they cling to what they lost.”

Felicia exhaled slowly. “What do you think?”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

She hesitated, then finally spoke. “Do you think I should take him back?”

Lucien didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched her carefully.

Finally, he said, “Do you want him back?”

Felicia’s stomach twisted.

Did she?

Damien had been her first love, the father of her children. There had been a time when she would have given anything to have him fight for her the way he was now.

But that time had passed.

“I just want the boys to meet their father,” she admitted. “They’re getting older… they keep asking about him.”

Lucien nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.

“That’s fair,” he said. “But be careful, Felicia. Just because a man wants to fix his mistakes doesn’t mean he’s changed.”

Felicia knew he was right.

Damien was still a storm waiting to break.

But the boys deserved the truth.

Even if it meant inviting chaos back into her life.

Comrade

Comrade

Score 9.9
Status: Ongoing Type:
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.

Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Options

not work with dark mode
Reset