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Comrade 46

Comrade 46

Lucien’s hands trembled as he gripped the crumpled photograph, his knuckles turning white.

His breath was ragged, his golden eyes locked onto the image of Georgina—alive, shackled, and trapped in some dark dungeon.

Felicia knelt beside him, her chest tightening at the sight of Lucien so shaken. She had never seen him like this.

Never seen him this broken.

“Lucien,” she whispered, reaching out hesitantly.

His fingers tightened around the photograph, and when he finally spoke, his voice was raw, filled with disbelief and fury.

“One of the rogues had this.” His voice was low, but it carried a dangerous weight.

Felicia’s breath hitched. “What?”

Lucien exhaled sharply, his shoulders rising and falling with each labored breath. “This was on one of them. That means someone wanted me to find it.”

Felicia swallowed hard, trying to piece it all together. Danielle—or Daphne, whoever she was—was playing with them.

She was taunting Lucien.

Damien, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke, his voice edged with suspicion. “And you’re sure this isn’t a trick?”

Lucien’s eyes snapped to him, filled with barely restrained rage.

“I don’t need you questioning me right now.” His voice was a dangerous growl.

Damien crossed his arms. “I’m not questioning you—I’m questioning this whole damn situation. If your sister really is behind this, then why would she let you find this photo?”

Lucien’s jaw tightened, and his gaze flickered back to the photograph.

“Because she wants me to come after them,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Felicia’s stomach twisted painfully.

Lucien’s fingers trailed over the image of Georgina’s face, his eyes dark with memories. “I can’t believe she’s alive. I thought I lost her forever.”

Felicia could hear the pain in his voice. She had never known the full extent of Lucien’s grief—only that Georgina had vanished a few nights after Daphne was killed.

Now, everything was twisting into something darker, something crueler.

Lucien suddenly clenched his jaw, his expression hardening. “She was close to Daphne. They were like sisters.”

Felicia’s brows furrowed. “And now she’s her prisoner?”

Lucien swallowed, his throat working as if the words physically hurt to say. He turned the photo around, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“If Daphne is alive—or whatever she is now—then she’s the one who took her.”

Damien cursed under his breath, his face darkening with something Felicia couldn’t place—anger? Sympathy? Guilt?

Lucien took a deep breath, his entire body vibrating with fury. “I need to find them. I need to get them back.”

Felicia nodded immediately, her voice firm. “Then we go after them. We find them together.”

But Lucien’s eyes hardened as he turned to her.

“No.”

Felicia froze. “What?”

Lucien clenched his fists. “You’re not coming. You’re not staying here, either.”

Felicia’s stomach dropped. “Lucien, what are you saying?”

His voice was sharp, filled with authority, and it made her chest tighten. “You and the boys need to go to Crescent Moon Pack. Stay with Damien.”

Felicia’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

Lucien met her gaze firmly, his expression unreadable. “I am. It’s not safe for you here anymore.”

Felicia felt a sharp pang of frustration. “You can’t just send us away.”

Lucien exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Felicia, listen to me. I don’t know what I’ll be walking into. If this is a trap, I can’t have you and the boys caught in it. You’ll be safer with Damien.”

Felicia’s hands curled into fists. “And what about you?”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “I’ll find Georgina and end this.”

Damien, who had been watching the conversation silently, finally stepped forward. “For once, I agree with him. You and the boys should be somewhere safe.”

Felicia turned to glare at him. “You would say that.”

Damien’s eyes darkened, but his voice remained steady. “Lucien’s right about one thing—this isn’t a battle you should be fighting. Not when you have two little boys to protect.”

Felicia wanted to argue, but deep down, she knew they were both right.

Her shoulders slumped slightly as she let out a slow breath. “Fine.”

Lucien nodded. “I’ll have warriors escort you to Crescent Moon Pack before dawn.”

Felicia looked at him one last time, something in her chest tightening. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

Lucien’s gaze softened for a brief moment before he turned away, gripping the photo tighter.

“I don’t plan on dying yet, Felicia.”

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.

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