Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 298

Chapter 298: Chapter 298 The Valerium Trap

Perry’s POV

"Get out of my way!"

My roar shattered the quiet of the medical wing. I didn’t wait for the servants to open the doors; I kicked them open with enough force to crack the wood. Phoebe was limp in my arms, her skin burning with a fever that defied logic, yet she was shivering as if she were naked in a snowstorm.

Marcela was already there, her face pale. She had been summoned the moment I found Phoebe collapsing in the garden.

" the bed," Marcela commanded, abandoning all protocol. She didn’t bow. She didn’t address me as King. She was a healer, and I was just a terrified man holding his world.

I laid Phoebe down on the sterile white sheets. She curled into a fetal position immediately, a low, guttural whimper escaping her throat. It was a sound that tore through my chest like a rusty blade.

"What is it?" I demanded, hovering over them. My hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists to hide the tremor. "Is it... did Justina poison her?"

If that bitch had touched her, I would burn the Davoria Kingdom to the ground before sunrise.

Marcela didn’t answer. Her hands glowed with a soft, diagnostic magic as she hovered them over Phoebe’s abdomen. The light pulsed—erratic, violent, red then blinding white.

Phoebe screamed.

"Fix her!" I shouted, the darkness inside me lashing out, cracking a nearby glass vase. "Marcela, do something!"

"Silence!" Marcela snapped. She pulled her hands back as if burned. She looked at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and awe. "It is not poison, Your Majesty. It is... reconstruction."

I froze. "Speak plainly."

" The White Wolf," Marcela whispered, looking down at Phoebe, who was now gasping for air. "The divinity within her. It has been dormant, suppressed by her injuries and the trauma of the past. But tonight, something triggered it. It is awake. And it is aggressive."

Marcela took a deep breath. "It is reshaping her internal organs. It is trying to heal the damage done years ago. It is trying to rebuild her womb, her core, her very essence."

Hope, sharp and dangerous, spiked in my chest. "She can be healed? She can... be whole?"

"There is a price," Marcela said, her voice dropping to a grave whisper. "The process is too violent for a conscious mind. It will kill her if she remains awake. To survive this, she must enter the Divine Slumber."

I narrowed my eyes. "Explain."

"She must be placed in stasis. A deep, magical coma for three days," Marcela said. "Her heart rate will drop to almost nothing. Her breath will be imperceptible. To the naked eye, she will appear dead. If she fights the power, she dies. If she surrenders to it... she might wake up reborn. Or she might never wake up at all."

The room went cold.

"No," I said instantly. The word was a wall. "Absolutely not."

"Perry—" Marcela started.

"I said no!" I slammed my hand against the wall. "I am not putting her in a coffin for three days on a gamble! I have buried her once in my heart. I will not do it again. Find another way."

I wouldn’t risk it. I couldn’t watch her turn cold. I couldn’t spend seventy-two hours wondering if the love of my life was a corpse or a goddess.

——

Phoebe’s POV

The pain was a living thing, chewing on my insides. But through the haze of agony, I heard him.

*I have buried her once in my heart. I will not do it again.*

His fear was a tangible weight in the room, heavier than the magic tearing me apart. I forced my eyes open. The world was blurry, swimming in tears, but I saw him. My Mad King. He looked ready to fight death itself with his bare hands.

I couldn’t let him do this. I couldn’t let his fear keep us both broken.

"Perry," I rasped.

He was at my side in a heartbeat, his cool hand cupping my fevered cheek. "I’m here, baby. I’m here. We’ll manage the pain. We won’t do the ritual. I won’t lose you."

I grabbed his wrist. My grip was weak, but my will was iron.

"You have to," I whispered.

"No," he said, his voice cracking. "I don’t care about heirs. I don’t care about the bloodline. Justina can rot. I just need you. Broken or whole, I just need you alive."

I pushed myself up. It felt like lifting a mountain. Marcela tried to assist, but I waved her off. I swung my legs over the side of the bed.

I slid down until my knees hit the floor.

The room went silent.

I knelt before him, not as a subject to a King, but as a partner offering everything. It mirrored the way Timothy had once knelt for Jude—a gesture of ultimate vulnerability, placing the power of destruction in the hands of the one you love.

I looked up at him. Tears streamed down my face, hot and fast.

"This isn’t just about a child, Perry," I said, my voice gaining strength despite the fire in my belly. "Look at me. I am the White Wolf. I am your Queen. But right now, I am a liability. I am a weakness your enemies can exploit."

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