Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 287

Chapter 287: Chapter 287 Family by Choice

Timothy’s POV

"No, please... come here..." The words scraped my throat raw, each syllable like swallowing glass. My chest burned as I struggled for air. "Please, don’t go..." Pain shot through me, but I pushed through it, desperate to make Jude stay.

Panic flashed across her face. She scooped up Harlow, who was still asleep, cradling her daughter as she rushed toward the door. Then a crash echoed behind her.

When she spun around, I was already sprawled on the floor. I’d tried dragging myself out of bed, but my body betrayed me—too damn weak to support my own weight.

Her eyes went wide. She quickly placed Harlow back on the sofa and hurried to my side.

"Are you hurt? What happened?" Her voice shook with worry. Guilt flickered in her expression, and when I reached out, she grasped my hand, ready to help me back to bed. Instead, I pulled her into my arms.

"Don’t go. Don’t leave me..." My voice came out like gravel, throat parched as desert sand. The memory hit me—one of those rebel bastards had slashed my neck. I’d torn him apart for it, but the damage was done.

The wound had healed, sure, but the agony lingered, made worse by all the blood I’d lost.

"Don’t go. Stay with me," I whispered, ignoring the fire in my throat as I held her tight. She tensed in my embrace.

"O... okay," she stammered, voice barely steady. She tried supporting my weight. "Come on, you need to get back in bed. Lean on me."

But I was too heavy for her small frame. After several failed attempts, she gave up.

"Let me get help," she said, but I tightened my hold, refusing to let her slip away.

"Royal gamma Timothy," she murmured, flustered by our closeness. If anything, I wanted us closer still.

"Timothy," I managed through the pain.

"What?"

"Just call me Timothy. I need you to say my name..."

She froze, uncertainty flickering across her face. She bit her lip while I waited, desperate to hear her voice wrap around my name.

But it wasn’t Jude who spoke first.

"Timothy," came a small voice.

Harlow had been watching everything.

"Timothy," Harlow repeated, hopping off the sofa and padding over to us.

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