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Comrade 5i8

Comrade 5i8

The night air was thick with the scent of blood and battle, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was relief.

Damien and Lucien walked side by side, supporting Georgina as she held onto her twin daughters.

The little girls were weak, trembling from years of captivity, but they clung to their mother with wide, fearful eyes.

Damien’s gaze swept ahead, landing on the sight that made his chest tighten—

Felicia.

She stood just beyond the tree line, her arms wrapped around Danny and Max, who were still visibly shaken but alive.

The moment she saw them approaching, her face crumpled with emotion.

Felicia ran forward, pulling Georgina into a tight embrace.

“You’re alive,” Felicia whispered, her voice thick with relief.

Georgina’s eyes filled with tears, her body trembling against Felicia’s.

“I thought I’d never see the sky again,” she murmured, her voice raw with emotion.

Lucien, standing beside them, exhaled sharply, his gaze locked on Georgina and their daughters.

The moment was overwhelming—so much had been lost, but for the first time, something had also been gained.

Lucien knelt down, his golden eyes meeting his daughters’ for the first time.

“I’m your father,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

The girls stared at him, hesitating, their small hands clutching Georgina’s dress.

But then, after a long pause—

One of them, the smaller of the two, reached forward, her tiny fingers brushing against his.

Lucien let out a shaky breath, his heart feeling like it had been torn open.

After so many years of believing he had lost them, they were right here.

Alive.

“We did it,” Xavier muttered, stretching his sore muscles as he glanced around the battlefield.

The warriors who had fought alongside them, though bruised and bleeding, stood victorious.

Damien turned to Felicia, his green eyes softening.

“It’s over.”

Felicia let out a slow breath, her fingers still tightly wrapped around her sons.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “It’s over.”

Or so they thought.

Just as they were about to leave—

A sound broke through the silence.

A child’s cry.

Felicia froze, her ears perking up as the soft, pained sobs echoed through the trees.

Damien and Lucien immediately went on high alert, their eyes scanning the darkness.

And then—

Through the shifting shadows, they saw him.

Sylvester.

The little boy stood near the remains of the battlefield, his small body shaking, his tiny fists clenched at his sides.

Tears streamed down his face, his big, sorrowful eyes locked onto Damien.

Damien felt his stomach twist painfully.

This was Danielle’s son.

A child who had just lost his mother.

Damien took a slow step forward, his voice calm but firm.

“Sylvester.”

But the moment he moved, Sylvester’s expression twisted into something fierce.

His tears burned with fury, his little body trembling with rage.

“Get away from me!” he screamed. “You murdered my mommy!”

Felicia inhaled sharply, gripping her sons protectively.

Lucien and Georgina exchanged tense glances, their wolves still on high alert.

Damien’s heart clenched.

Sylvester’s words stabbed into him like a dagger.

He hadn’t wanted this.

He had never wanted to take a mother from her child—no matter how monstrous Danielle had been.

But Sylvester wouldn’t understand that.

All he saw was his mother dead, and Damien standing in her place.

“Sylvester, listen to me—” Damien started, stepping closer.

But the boy snarled, his young eyes flashing with something unnatural, something dark.

A spark of his mother’s twisted power still lingered inside him.

And then—

He turned and ran.

“Sylvester!” Damien called, but the boy was fast, disappearing into the woods before anyone could stop him.

Damien made a move to chase after him, but Lucien grabbed his arm.

“Let him go,” Lucien said, his voice low and serious.

Damien’s jaw clenched, his muscles tense.

“He’s just a kid. He doesn’t understand—”

Lucien shook his head. “Not now. He’s full of rage. He won’t listen. If you chase him, it’ll only scare him more.”

Felicia wrapped her arms tighter around Danny and Max, her eyes flickering with worry.

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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