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Comrade 75

Comrade 75

The Silverstone courtyard had never been this full.

The moon hung high above, bathing the pack grounds in soft silver light. Wolves stood in tight clusters, whispers buzzing like bees. Tonight wasn’t meant to be anything special—just another gathering after a long day of training. But the moment Valen stepped onto the stone platform at the center, everything changed.

Eva had just finished speaking with a few Elders when she noticed the hush that spread across the crowd like ripples in water. She turned and saw Valen. Dressed in a tailored black shirt and dark trousers, his long coat brushing the backs of his boots, he stood tall and sure, his dark eyes fixed only on her.

He offered his hand toward her.

Her brows pulled together slightly, confused. “Valen?”

He said nothing, only smiled—nervous and proud all at once—and reached into his pocket.

Gasps echoed around the circle of wolves as he pulled out a ring. Not just any ring—it glowed faintly under the moonlight, embedded with a blood-red stone that shimmered with something ancient and powerful.

Eva froze. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“Eva,” Valen said, his voice clear and strong, “I have lived a life full of shadows. But when I met you, I saw light. Real light. I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t want to wonder if I’ll lose you to fate or prophecy. I want you. All of you. Tonight, in front of your pack, in front of the moon, I ask you…”

He dropped to one knee.

“Make me your mate.”

There was a long silence. For a moment, no one breathed. Even the wind seemed to stop.

Eva stared at him, stunned. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from excitement, but from confusion. From fear. From the sheer weight of it all.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t find her voice. Before she could gather her thoughts, a deep growl erupted from the side of the circle.

Max.

He shoved through the crowd, fury blazing in his eyes, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “You don’t get to do this!” he roared. “You don’t get to stand here, in her home, in her pack, and pretend like you’re one of us!”

“Max, stop—” Eva started, but he wouldn’t.

Max pointed a trembling finger at Valen, his chest heaving. “You don’t know who he is, Eva! You think you do, but you don’t! He’s hiding things. Secrets that could get us all killed.”

Valen stood slowly, his jaw tight. “I’ve never lied about how I feel about her.”

“You’ve lied about everything else,” Max shot back.

Eva stepped forward, eyes hard. “That’s enough!”

The crowd was silent, tense, caught between loyalty to their Alpha Queen and curiosity about the outsider who dared ask for her heart.

She turned to Max, her voice low and cutting. “I know who you are. You’re the boy who watched me cry and walked away.”

Max flinched, visibly. The words hit harder than any punch. His mouth opened like he wanted to defend himself, but no sound came. Instead, he turned his face away, jaw clenched.

Valen stepped closer, slipping the ring back into his coat. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” he said gently to Eva. “I just wanted you to know where I stand.”

Eva looked between the two of them—Valen with his steady eyes and soft voice, Max with his stormy silence and bleeding heart. She couldn’t breathe. Not properly. Everything inside her was tight and twisted.

She didn’t say yes.

But she didn’t say no either.

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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