Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 90

Chapter 90: The King’s Firstborn

“This situation is a nightmare,” Timothy muttered in response to Flynn’s concerned question.

“How is Perry holding up?” Flynn asked, his brow furrowed deeply with worry.

Timothy’s face tightened with unease. “If you’re thinking about breaking this news to Perry right now, I strongly advise against it.” Flynn shook his head with a firm resolve. “This is definitely not the time.”

Just then, another loud crash resonated from Phoebe’s bedroom, making both men flinch.

“I thought there was nothing left for him to destroy,” Timothy winced, rubbing his temples.

“He’s already punched his way through to the next room, and now he’s tearing apart his own quarters,” Flynn explained grimly.

“Good Lord,” Timothy gasped, clutching his chest. He wasn’t sure he could face Perry at the height of his fury, especially bearing such news. The king’s reaction was impossible to predict.

“So, what did you find out when you visited her cell?” Flynn asked, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. If it were up to him, he’d have that woman executed without hesitation. A death sentence seemed the only fitting justice. But, sadly, the decision was beyond his reach.

“She’s pregnant,” Timothy stated bluntly, unsure how else to break the news.

“What?!” Flynn spun around, grabbing Timothy by the shoulders. “Don’t joke—this isn’t funny.”

Timothy’s expression hardened. “I’m not joking. I’m as serious as you are. I’m in no mood for games.”

“Then what exactly do you mean by ‘she’s expecting’?” Flynn pressed, clearly skeptical.

Timothy shot him a sharp look. “They were intimate—often. The scent of sex clinging to Perry every morning was impossible to miss. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed it.”

Flynn crossed his arms, clearly irritated by Timothy’s bluntness, but Timothy ignored the growing tension and continued speaking his mind.

“Do you think this is just another one of her schemes?”

“What are you implying?” Flynn demanded.

“She gets pregnant now—right when everything is falling apart. It’s too convenient. She probably thinks this pregnancy will save her from execution.”

Timothy blinked at the accusation, then shook his head in frustration. “She’s not that manipulative.”

“How can you say that when she’s been poisoning Perry behind everyone’s back?” Flynn shot back sharply.

Timothy met his gaze evenly. “It’s just a gut feeling.” He had no concrete proof to defend Phoebe, but his instincts told him otherwise. It was those instincts that had led him to the dungeon in the first place.

If Timothy hadn’t visited the dungeon, Phoebe might already be dead. Now, his intuition screamed at him to protect her.

Damn it all.

“She’s not a schemer,” Timothy insisted firmly.

—

**Perry’s Point of View**

Timothy entered the shattered room, immediately noticing the huge hole I’d punched through to the adjoining chamber. I kept smashing everything within reach in my own quarters, the rage inside me refusing to subside.

It had been ages since I’d spent any time here; most nights I’d been with Phoebe.

“Perry,” Timothy called out cautiously, his voice tentative.

Meanwhile, Cameron bombarded the new palace healer with a flood of questions. “What’s wrong with her? How is she? Why hasn’t she woken up yet?”

Marcela, doing her best to stay patient, replied calmly, though Cameron’s constant pestering was starting to wear on her nerves. “She’s extremely weak. There’s little I can do right now. I’ve explained that she’s missing her wolf spirit, so she can’t heal like other shifters. It will take a long time before she can regain consciousness.”

Cameron muttered curses under his breath, complaining bitterly about why Phoebe hadn’t been moved sooner, given how critical her condition was.

“She’ll recover, right?” Cameron asked at last, leaning against the bars, desperate to be as close as possible to his daughter. It was painful to see her in such a fragile state.

Phoebe looked ghostly pale even in the dim light. Her body was wrapped tightly in blankets, her hair plastered to the side of her face. Anyone could see she was far from well.

“I’m not sure,” Marcela admitted honestly. “She’s incredibly weak.”

Despite everything else, there was one fact that terrified her most of all—Phoebe was carrying the king’s firstborn child.