Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 269

Chapter 269: Chapter 269 A Mother’s Touch

Phoebe’s POV

"Oh, Samuel..." The words came out as barely a whisper. My heart clenched watching this warrior—this man who’d faced down armies—crumble before my eyes. "I’m so sorry."

Samuel’s jaw tightened. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, harsh and quick, like he was trying to erase the vulnerability I’d just witnessed.

"Don’t be, my queen. I’m fine." But his voice cracked on the last word, betraying everything he was trying to hide.

The composed mask slid back into place, but I could see the storm raging underneath. His hands trembled slightly before he clenched them into fists.

"Why don’t you travel to the Astrid pack?" I suggested, keeping my voice gentle.

"I can’t do that." Samuel shot me a quick glance, then shook his head violently. "She’s dead. There’s no reason for me to go there."

"But you’re not certain of that, are you?" I reached out, my fingers brushing against his back. He flinched like I’d burned him. "Don’t you want closure? I know you think about her every day."

His shoulders sagged. "But I can’t leave."

"Why not?"

"I have an obligation to protect you." Even he knew how weak that sounded.

I rolled my eyes. "Do you honestly believe that’s necessary?" Disbelief colored my voice. "I release you from that duty. Wade is here. Our warriors are here. You’re babysitting me at this point."

Silence stretched between us. Samuel stared at the sick child, but I could tell his mind was somewhere else entirely.

"I’ll speak to Perry about this," I said firmly.

"You don’t need to—"

"I want to."

Something shifted in his expression. Gratitude mixed with fear, hope warring with despair.

Before either of us could say more, Jude returned with her basket of plants, and Patricia appeared to tell us the fire was ready.

---

Perry’s POV

Alpha Hans could no longer hold himself upright.

His legs were shattered. Several ribs broken. Blood pooled beneath him on the stone floor.

Even with werewolf healing, broken bones took time. Hans wouldn’t be walking away from this room.

Ever.

"I’ll let you see your son one final time," I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "And I’ll spare your family."

I crouched down. Grabbed a fistful of his hair. Forced his head up until our eyes met.

"Tell me exactly how you escaped Death Valley alive."

Hans laughed—a bitter, broken sound that echoed off the walls. Pure hatred burned in his gaze.

"Sacrifice." He spat blood. "You need a sacrifice."

The story came out in fragments. His younger stepsister. Born from an omega. Nobody cared about her because she was female.

In this kingdom, girls were invisible unless men needed them for pleasure.

"I sacrificed her," he said, that dark laugh bubbling up again. "Fed her to whatever lives in that cursed place. Now let me see my son."

His son hadn’t been in the pack during our attack. Hans assumed the boy had escaped.

He had no idea I’d captured him first.

I straightened slowly. "Timothy, bring the boy."

In Hans’s mind, he was already planning his final speech. Tell his son to do whatever it took to survive. Even bow to the king who’d destroyed their world.

As long as the boy lived, revenge would be possible someday.

But Timothy’s warriors carried in a corpse.

The body was barely recognizable. Dried blood. Missing limbs. The smell of death thick in the air.

"No." Hans’s voice broke. "No, no, no..."

"ARRGGHH!" The scream tore from his throat like an animal in agony. He tried to rise, tried to crawl toward what remained of his child. "What have you done?! What have you DONE?!"

His broken legs collapsed under him. He hit the floor hard, bones grinding against stone.

"You lied! You said I could see my son!"

"And you did see him," I replied calmly. "I never specified he’d be alive."

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