Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 123

Chapter 123: A Far More Dangerous Beast

“In my opinion, you’ve completely overstepped by questioning the king’s choices about his own family,” Marcela shot back, her tone sharp and filled with disdain.

Any trace of sympathy she had once harbored for the former royal beta vanished instantly.

“You’ve crossed a line, Flynn. You say the kingdom should come first, but you don’t seem to understand that the king and his kingdom are one and the same. They cannot be separated.”

Flynn clenched his jaw, struggling to hold back more words. Arguing with a healer about palace affairs was utterly pointless—he simply didn’t grasp the complexities involved. “He’s abandoned his responsibilities as ruler! That woman has completely corrupted him.”

Marcela let the silence stretch between them, deliberately waiting until Flynn’s anger simmered down just a bit before she answered.

“King Perry earned the title ‘Mad King’ long ago. How much worse could Lady Phoebe possibly make him? You’ve had years to repair his reputation, yet I see no sign of progress.”

Flynn’s nostrils flared in frustration. In a sudden burst of rage, he grabbed the food tray and flung it to the floor with a loud crash. “Leave! GET OUT!”

—

Perry’s POV

Outside, the storm raged with relentless fury, the wind shrieking like a tormented spirit clawing at the castle walls.

Inside the sterile hospital room, I sat vigil beside Phoebe’s bed, clutching her fragile hand tightly in both of mine, trying to offer what little warmth I could muster. Hours had slipped by—four long, exhausting hours—and I refused to move, determined to remain by her side.

Eventually, exhaustion crept in, overwhelming me after a week of sleepless nights. My body sagged, and I finally allowed myself to drift into a restless sleep.

The howling wind outside continued unabated, its savage cries piercing the darkness—and it was that very sound that stirred Phoebe from unconsciousness.

She jolted awake, trembling as the branches scraped and clawed persistently against the windowpane.

Her eyes scanned the room, then settled on me, still slumped in the chair beside her bed, my head resting heavily against the edge.

Even in sleep, my face was etched with tension, as if haunted by nightmares.

Phoebe’s awareness sharpened as she took in her surroundings.

This was definitely a hospital room, and my presence here meant I had successfully pulled her away from Reginald’s grasp.

Yet, instead of relief, a deep unease settled over her. She hadn’t escaped one predator only to find safety—no, she had fled into the clutches of a far more dangerous beast, one who could consume her entirely.

She tried to move her arm but found she couldn’t; I was asleep on it, cutting off circulation and leaving it numb.

That faint movement startled me awake. My eyes snapped open and locked onto hers immediately.

For several heartbeats, we simply stared at each other, the storm outside growing louder and more violent.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?” I murmured, my voice thick with sleep. I had been so sure this was just another cruel fantasy when I saw her eyes flicker open—that’s why I hadn’t reacted sooner.

Phoebe turned her head away, deliberately avoiding my gaze.

“Even in my dreams, you won’t look at me,” I whispered, a touch of sadness in my tone.

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