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Comrade 37

Comrade 37

Tension hung in the air like a thick fog as Felicia, Damien, and the boys rushed back to the Silverstone Packhouse, their footsteps echoing through the silence. Felicia’s grip on Danny and Max’s hands was like a vice, her knuckles white and strained as she fought to keep her emotions in check. The memory of Danielle’s taunting words still lingered in her mind, the venom in her voice making Felicia’s heart race with anxiety.

“If you can’t be mine, you can’t be anyone else’s,” Danielle had sneered, her threat hanging over Felicia like the sword of Damocles. Since then, Felicia’s heart had been racing like a wild animal, refusing to slow down.

Damien walked beside her, his jaw clenched in a tight line, his shoulders stiff with suppressed rage. His piercing green eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger, his entire being coiled and ready to spring into action. He wasn’t just walking – he was hunting, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on his prey.

The trees seemed to loom over them, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to snatch them. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made Felicia jump, her nerves stretched taut like a bowstring. But Danielle was nowhere to be found, leaving behind only the ominous weight of her threats.

When they finally reached the Silverstone Packhouse, the large wooden doors creaked open, and Lucien was waiting, his dark eyes scanning them with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He took in the shaken expressions, the lingering fear in Felicia’s eyes, and the tension that vibrated through the air like a live wire.

“What happened?” Lucien asked, his voice sharp with concern, his tone like a gentle prod that urged them to spill out the truth.

Felicia couldn’t speak – the weight of the night was still crushing her, making it hard to breathe. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of fear and anxiety, unable to find a lifeline to cling to.

It was Damien who stepped forward, his voice rough and gravelly, like he was forcing the words out of his throat. “Danielle,” he growled, the name like a bitter taste in his mouth.

Lucien’s expression didn’t change, but his dark eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through the veil of mystery. “Who?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

Damien took a slow, heavy breath, his chest rising and falling like a bellows, before his green eyes met Lucien’s directly. “The girl I left Felicia for,” he admitted, the words like a confession torn from his soul.

Lucien’s face twisted with disgust, his features contorting in a mixture of shock and anger. “You mean to tell me the woman you replaced Felicia with is the same woman who’s been murdering people and setting you up?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

Damien’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and shame. “Yes,” he growled, the single word like a rock that dropped into a silent pond, sending ripples of consequence through the air.

Lucien let out a low, humorless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, isn’t that ironic?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Felicia shot him a look, but there was no amusement in Lucien’s tone – only a cold, hard anger that simmered beneath the surface.

Lucien turned his gaze back to Damien, his voice colder now, his words like a judge’s verdict. “Tell me everything,” he commanded, his eyes flashing with a fierce intensity.

Damien clenched his fists, his knuckles white with tension, before he exhaled sharply and spoke. “She admitted to everything. The rogue attacks, the murders, even Orion’s death. It was all her,” he said, the words like a dam breaking, releasing a torrent of truth into the air.

Lucien stiffened, his usual laid-back demeanor disappearing like a ghost, replaced by a cold, hard anger that made his dark eyes flash with fury. His wolf bristled beneath his skin, its presence like a living, breathing thing that urged him to act.

Felicia nodded slowly, her voice soft but steady, like a candle that burned bright in the darkness. “She carved Damien’s pack name into Orion’s body to frame him, but in reality, it was all her,” she said, the words like a slow-moving river that flowed with a quiet intensity.

Lucien’s fingers curled into tight fists, his knuckles turning white with rage, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and disgust. “She killed Felicia’s brother?” he asked, his voice like a whip that cracked through the air.

Damien continued, his voice gruff, like he was forcing himself to speak. “I accused you because the clairvoyant told me it was someone I hated who was behind the attacks. And I—” He hesitated before forcing the words out. “I forgot about Danielle,” he admitted, his voice like a confession torn from his soul.

Lucien let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disgust. “Of course you did,” he said, his eyes flashing with a cold, hard anger. “So, because of your blind rage, you accused me, and innocent wolves died,” he accused, his voice like a hammer that drove the nail of guilt into Damien’s heart.

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Comrade

Comrade

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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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