Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 124

Chapter 124: A Safe Place Called Home

Perry’s Perspective

With careful, deliberate motions, I slipped off Phoebe’s hospital gown and folded it neatly, setting it aside. Her bare skin lay exposed, but it didn’t faze me. Yet, I could feel the subtle tension radiating from Phoebe—her unease about being so vulnerable was almost palpable.

“It’s alright,” I whispered reassuringly, my voice soft and steady. “I’ll take care of everything. No one else will see you like this.”

I turned on the shower, adjusting the water to a comfortably warm temperature. The VIP room lacked a bathtub, but the shower would serve its purpose just fine. Gently, I guided Phoebe beneath the cascade of warm water.

“I’ll give you some privacy to wash up,” I murmured, pressing a light kiss to her forehead before stepping back. “I’ll be right outside.”

After leaving the bathroom, I chose not to summon the staff to tidy up the mess. Instead, I quietly requested fresh linens from a nurse and discreetly handed over the soiled sheets and Phoebe’s gown without offering any explanation. I preferred to handle this myself.

When I finished tidying, I waited, but Phoebe hadn’t emerged. Concern nudged me back to the bathroom, where I found her standing still, frozen in place. Without a word, I stepped in to assist her with washing, then carefully dried her skin before slipping a clean gown over her. Leading her to the sofa, I began drying her hair.

Her hair was just as I remembered—silky, soft, and the curls, when damp, seemed even more enchanting. A quiet thought crossed my mind: I could do this every day without complaint, if only I had the chance.

We remained silent as I helped her settle onto the freshly made bed. The crisp sheets seemed to soothe her instantly, coaxing her toward sleep.

I had hoped to get some food into her before she drifted off, but by the time the warrior arrived with a meal, exhaustion had already claimed her.

“Will she be alright without eating?” I asked the nurse quietly as she checked on Phoebe. Her breathing was steady, lips slightly parted in peaceful rest.

“She’ll be fine,” the nurse reassured me with a nod. “I’ll set up an IV drip to keep her nourished.” She left to prepare the equipment.

I leaned over Phoebe once more, whispering, “Please don’t get sick,” as I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

***

We stayed at the hospital for two more days, ensuring Phoebe’s full recovery. If it had been up to me, I would have extended our stay indefinitely. The care she received here was excellent, but pressing matters awaited me back at the palace—especially now that Flynn was no longer my royal beta.

My top priority once we returned was to call an urgent meeting to officially announce Flynn’s removal from his position. I needed to find a suitable replacement quickly; the role couldn’t remain vacant for long.

“We’re heading back to the palace today,” I said, settling into the chair beside Phoebe’s bed.

She was quietly examining her fingernails, but there was a subtle shift in her demeanor—less withdrawn than before. “Would you rather stay at the beach house, or come back with me?” I asked gently.

If she preferred the beach house, I would have to remove Flynn and assign additional warriors there to ensure her safety. Marcela would certainly stay by her side.

“Where do you want to stay?” My voice was softer than I expected, even to myself.

Remembering Phoebe couldn’t speak, I brought her paper and pen, placing them in her hands.

Perry’s Perspective

“Alright. Let’s go home,” I said quietly.

This plan meant Flynn could remain at the beach house until I decided otherwise. Several warriors still guarded the property.

However, since our last confrontation that nearly cost Flynn his life, I hadn’t seen him. I hadn’t even checked on his condition, which only deepened the resentment simmering within him.

“The king has ordered my return to the palace,” Marcela informed Flynn. She had developed a habit of addressing the former royal beta with formal respect.

Aside from Marcela’s earlier outburst during their argument, their exchanges remained polite.

“Are there any orders for me?” Flynn asked, hope flickering in his voice. Weeks had passed since their fight.

“No, there aren’t,” Marcela replied.

Disappointment washed over his face. “What does he plan to do with me?”

Flynn’s dejection was clear, and Marcela couldn’t bring herself to tell him that the king was already searching for his replacement.