Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 43

Standard POV Format

When I entered the dining hall, my gaze found my father instantly. Shock struck first, then dread—and finally fury.

“Phoebe…” He rose, using the warm, fatherly tone he’d always performed so well. “I’m glad to see you again.”

He reached me before I could step back and pulled me into an embrace that looked affectionate to everyone else. Beneath his breath came the command that froze me in place.
“Behave.”

Every muscle locked. Even here, in the palace where he had no authority, his words still carried chains.

I could tell Perry noticed. He sat at the head of the table, silent but watchful, studying us like a predator testing a cage door.

Lunch passed in uneasy quiet. I barely touched the food while my father filled the silence with stories that didn’t match the truth.
“Here—your favorite,” he said, placing meat on my plate.

Perry’s brows lifted. “How would you know what she likes?”
“She’s my daughter,” Cameron replied smoothly.

But Perry said nothing more, because he already knew what Cameron didn’t—that I hadn’t tasted food in years.

When the king finally excused himself, the air changed. The warmth left my father’s face the instant the door shut.

“I need you to do something,” he said.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed as if I were a stubborn child. “Phoebe, this is for your safety. You’ll die if you stay here.”

“No.”

“Stop being difficult.” His hand shot out, forcing something cold and small into my palm—a glass vial.
“Give this to the king,” he whispered. “One drop a day.”

Cameron’s mouth opened, but no sound came. For a heartbeat, the mask slipped and I saw confusion—maybe even guilt. Then it vanished.

“You’ve always twisted things to make yourself a victim,” he hissed. “I won’t let you destroy us again.”

He left the vial in my hand and walked away.

The small bottle felt heavier than a blade. I wanted to throw it across the room, but I couldn’t move. My whole body shook—not from fear this time, but from the terrible realization that my father hadn’t come to see if I was safe.

He’d come to use me one last time.