Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 44

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I retched until my stomach was empty, my body trembling and weak. The tiny vial hidden in my pocket felt as if it were burning through my skin — a silent reminder of the nightmare I’d just been dragged into.

They wanted me to be the weapon that ended the Mad King.
My father’s weapon.

I pressed a hand to my mouth as another wave of nausea hit. How could he ask me to do this? How could a father command his daughter to kill her mate?

The thought alone made me sick.

After everything I’d endured, after clawing my way out of the darkness of Obsidian Claw, they’d still found a way to pull me back into it.

I sank to the floor, shaking, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

“No one will believe you.”

The words echoed inside my skull — my father’s voice, Kevin’s voice, the whole pack’s voice — every lie they’d drilled into me for years. I clutched my head, trying to silence them, but they only grew louder until I screamed.

When my vision cleared, Mason was kneeling beside me, alarmed.
“My lady, what’s wrong?” she whispered, her tone full of worry as her hand rubbed circles on my back.

I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.

“It’s all right,” she murmured, pulling me into her arms. “You can tell me anything.”

Her kindness felt real — warm and gentle — and for a fleeting moment, I wanted to believe it. I wanted to collapse and let someone else carry my pain. But the truth was a thorn in my throat.

I couldn’t tell her. Not about the vial. Not about my father’s treachery.

“I just need… to rest,” I whispered, but Mason’s voice dropped low, brushing my ear.

“Don’t worry, my lady. Everything will go according to plan. Just do as the former beta instructed.”

I froze.
“What…?”

Her words sank in slowly, like a poison of their own.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” Mason continued, her tone too calm, too practiced. “You’re not alone. There are many in this palace who want the same thing.”

My blood ran cold.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Because even if part of me pitied her pain, another part screamed that what she was asking me to do was unforgivable.

Perry stepped into the room, his piercing gaze sweeping over us.
“What’s going on?”

“What’s this?” he asked quietly. “Still sulking after meeting your father?”

I shook my head, but my mind was chaos. I wanted to tell him everything, to hand him the poison and expose every traitor in the palace. But Mason’s words lingered — “You’re not alone.”

If she was right, speaking up could sign her death warrant.

Perry exhaled sharply, temper flaring. “I’ve had enough of this.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the desk. “If you won’t talk, write.”

He shoved paper and a pen in front of me, his voice rough. “Write whatever’s wrong. Now.”

I stared at the blank page, the pen trembling in my fingers.

If I told him, blood would spill.
If I stayed silent, more might die.

And in that impossible choice, I realized the truth —
I was trapped in a web of betrayal, and every thread of it was tightening around my throat.