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Comrade 92

Comrade 92

The silence in the great hall was deafening as Eva stood before her warriors, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her shoulders. She had made the decision that there could be no more doubts, no more secrets hidden in the shadows. The betrayal from within the pack had shaken her to her core, and she needed to know who stood with her—truly stood with her—and who did not.

Max stood beside her, his presence a quiet strength as always. His eyes scanned the room, the tension palpable between them. He could see the doubt in some of the warriors’ eyes, the fear that lingered beneath their hardened exteriors. But Eva wasn’t afraid. She couldn’t afford to be. Not now. Not when everything they had worked for was on the line.

“Today, we begin the Loyalty Test,” Eva announced, her voice clear and unwavering. Her eyes swept over the group, her gaze hardening with resolve. “Each of you will swear an oath to Silverstone, to me. By blood. You will vow your loyalty to the pack, to our future.”

The warriors shifted uncomfortably, glancing at one another. Eva could sense the growing unease, the uncertainty that hung in the air. She knew what they were thinking—what if they couldn’t swear that oath? What if their loyalty wasn’t as firm as they claimed?

“Those who hesitate,” she continued, her voice colder now, “will be removed from our ranks.”

A murmur passed through the room, and Eva’s eyes narrowed. She had made herself clear, but there was always someone who would test the boundaries. She could feel the tension building, the crackling energy in the air as they waited for her next words.

“Step forward, if you will,” Eva commanded, her tone brokering no argument.

One by one, her warriors stepped up to the front, blood offered in a ritual that bound them to Silverstone. They swore their allegiance, each one’s voice strong, their loyalty unwavering. But as the last of the warriors stepped forward, one man lingered, his face pale, his hands trembling. Erion, a guard known for his quiet strength, stood apart from the others, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

Eva noticed him immediately. She had always trusted Erion, but now, there was something in his posture, something in the way he avoided her gaze that sent a chill down her spine. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on her, the need for clarity.

“Erion,” Eva called, her voice sharp, “It’s your turn.”

Erion’s breath caught in his throat. For a long moment, he didn’t move. His body stiffened, and Eva could see the conflict playing out in his eyes. His loyalty was in question, and he knew it. The room held its breath, waiting for him to take the final step. But instead, he made the choice that would change everything.

With a swift motion, he turned and bolted for the door.

“Erion!” Eva shouted, but he was already running, his footsteps echoing through the hall as he fled into the night. The realization hit her like a slap—he was running. He had betrayed them. And now, he was trying to escape.

Max was already on his feet, his voice low with fury. “We can’t let him go. He knows too much.”

Eva didn’t need to say anything. She knew what had to be done. She turned to Tiana, who had been standing nearby, her gaze focused, her expression hard as stone.

“Tiana,” Eva said, her voice steady, “Go after him. Bring him back.”

Tiana nodded, her eyes burning with determination. “On it,” she said, before turning on her heel and darting toward the exit.

The chase was swift and brutal. Tiana’s legs moved like a blur, her body a force of nature as she tore through the forest after Erion. The moonlight streamed through the trees, casting shadows on the ground as she hunted him down. She could hear his footsteps ahead of her, the sound of him desperately trying to outrun her, but he wasn’t fast enough. Not for her.

She rounded a bend in the path, and there he was—his back pressed against a tree, panting, his face twisted in fear. He knew he couldn’t outrun her. Tiana was too fast, too skilled, too relentless.

With a snarl, Tiana lunged forward, tackling him to the ground with the force of a thunderclap. Her hands pinned him down, her fangs bared in a flash of silver. “Wrong girl to underestimate,” she snarled, her voice low and full of rage.

Erion’s eyes widened with fear as he struggled beneath her, but it was useless. He couldn’t escape her grasp. He knew he was done.

“Please,” he gasped, his voice weak, his breath ragged. “I didn’t want this… I didn’t want to betray you.”

Tiana’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening. “Then why did you run?” she hissed. “Why didn’t you swear your loyalty to the queen?”

Erion’s face twisted in shame. “I… I didn’t have a choice. They threatened me… they promised me safety if I helped them. They wanted the girl, not the queen… the younger one.” His voice faltered, and he gasped for breath as his eyes filled with tears. “They wanted her, not you. They wanted the twins. They wanted the one with the vampire heartbeat.”

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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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