Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 140

Phoebe stirred awake, her senses immediately drawn to Perry’s intense gaze. His concern was palpable as he pressed his forehead against hers, his voice laced with a fierce urgency. “You’re hurt again. Do you want me to take his head? Or should I skin him alive?”

The shock jolted me fully awake, and I shook my head vigorously, panic rising within me. Those were not the solutions I sought. Besides, the alpha responsible for my pain had already met his end.

As I lifted my gaze to meet Perry’s striking electric blue eyes, I could see the cold fire of determination burning in them. His madness had returned, a stark reminder of the darker side of his nature. This wasn’t merely about avenging me; there was a genuine thrill in the idea of inflicting pain that he found hard to resist.

He thrived on the suffering of others, and I could not allow that to happen—not for my sake. The thought of bloodshed, of having someone’s life taken because of me, was a burden I could not bear.

With renewed resolve, I tightened my grip on his hand, unwilling to let go. The fear gripped me tightly; if I released him, I was certain he would charge back into the dining hall and finish what he had begun.

“Please,” I mouthed silently, my eyes wide with desperation.

“Don’t kill anyone,” I finally managed to whisper, my voice barely above a breath.

Perry’s expression softened as he deciphered my lips, but he craved to hear the actual words. I was aware that my tongue had healed; I was capable of speech, yet I chose to remain silent.

“Please, don’t kill anymore,” I repeated, my voice trembling slightly.

“I won’t,” he assured, his tone gentle, almost affectionate. It had been far too long since he had heard my voice, and he missed it dearly. “Talk to me, Phoebe. Just say my name.”

I hesitated, uncertainty clouding my thoughts.

I wouldn’t say I had forgotten how to speak, but after enduring weeks of silence, I had grown accustomed to this tranquil existence.

“If you don’t speak, I’m going to kill him,” Perry stated with a calm assurance that sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t a mere threat; it was an unshakeable promise. I understood he would act on it without hesitation.

Killing provided him with a satisfaction I could never comprehend.

Yet, I had noticed a shift in Perry lately. He seemed less cold, less ruthless than he had been in the past. A year ago, he would have demanded my compliance without question. There would have been no room for negotiation, no gentle requests.

So much had transformed since then. We had been shattered, only to slowly mend ourselves through shared agony and enduring pain.

And now, here we stood.

In the past, Perry wouldn’t have entertained bargaining with me. He would have dispatched that last alpha without a second thought. This conversation wouldn’t even have taken place.

But time had changed him. He had grown patient, even if the shadow of his darker self still loomed nearby. He remained the bloodthirsty king I had come to know.

“Get some rest, Phoebe,” he said softly, his hand brushing against my cheek with a tenderness that made my heart flutter. He had waited for me to speak, but he wouldn’t push me further than I was willing to go.

He had learned from past experiences. He had made strides in our relationship and didn’t wish to frighten me again.

In a sudden burst of courage, I seized him, pulling him close and pressing my lips against his. Words failed me, but I hoped this kiss would convey everything I couldn’t articulate.

The kiss was brief but electrifying, leaving Perry momentarily stunned. He stared at me, surprise etched across his features before leaning down to reciprocate.

Startled, I released him once more, as if my hands had been scorched.

“You’re so adorable,” Perry murmured, his fingers weaving through my hair.

“Get some rest. I didn’t intend to ruin our lunch, but those idiots just wouldn’t give me a moment of peace.”

His tone suggested that this was a common occurrence, his frustration almost endearing.

With that, he exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as a whirlwind of questions swirled in my mind.

What was I supposed to do now? Should I still harbor resentment toward him? I wasn’t even sure what anger remained within me.

My fury had dissipated, yet the emptiness in my heart lingered. I placed my hand gently over my flat belly once more.

Why did the thought of the baby I hadn’t even known I was carrying fill me with such profound sadness and regret?

I shouldn’t feel this way.

But deep down, I understood the truth. I yearned for someone who belonged to me, someone who would love me unconditionally, someone I could love in return.

That opportunity had slipped through my fingers—and that was the loss I mourned above all else.