Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 221

**His Mercy Tastes Like Hunger**
**Chapter 221: Whispered Name**

As Allen observed the shift in her expression, his grin widened, a mix of amusement and triumph dancing in his eyes. “Do you honestly believe I’m fabricating this? What would I gain by lying to you?” He leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. “I’ve already had you, haven’t I? I’ve relished every moment, every inch of your body, and now you carry my child. What more could I possibly want from you if not the truth?”

Her lips pressed tightly together, a futile effort to formulate a retort. She searched her mind for any clever comeback, any shred of defense, but nothing emerged.

Doubt seeped into her thoughts, clouding her judgment. Was he right? Allen had no reason to deceive her; he had already taken everything he desired, leaving her feeling utterly powerless in the wake of his assertiveness.

“See? I’m not spinning tales, sweetheart. Sure, I’m a bastard, but I’m not a liar. I always deliver the truth straight to you.”

As he took a step closer, her fragmented thoughts scrambled to react, but it was too late. His hand shot out, yanking her against the solid warmth of his chest.

“Ah!” The suddenness of his touch made her heart race uncontrollably, pounding against her ribcage. Her instincts kicked in, and she stomped down hard on his foot, feeling a fleeting sense of triumph when his grip loosened enough for her to escape.

She dashed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her with a force that echoed in the silence. Frustration bubbled within her as she fumbled with the handle, cursing the lack of a lock.

With no barrier between them, she pressed her back against the door, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The fear of him forcing his way in made her heart race anew.

But he didn’t follow.

As the adrenaline began to fade, she sank to the floor, her arms wrapping tightly around herself in a desperate attempt to feel secure. The memory of his hand lingered on her skin, a revolting reminder that made her stomach churn.

All she could do was cling to herself, battling the overwhelming disgust she felt towards her own body.

She tried to dismiss Allen’s words, convincing herself that there must be some twisted motive behind his confession. Yet, as she glanced over at the bed where Reginald lay peacefully sleeping, doubt gnawed at her resolve.

What if Allen was speaking the truth?

Reginald could have intervened, but instead, he had been willing to hand her over. Why would he agree to something so despicable?

Why would he even entertain such a vile notion?

Any mate would have lost their mind at such a demand, yet Reginald had been disturbingly calm, as if he had already reconciled with the idea of letting that old man have her.

Now that the thought had taken root in her mind, she found herself replaying the moments when Reginald had persuaded her to accept this fate.

His words had been so subtle, so carefully chosen. He framed it as a matter of the pack’s survival, and when she hesitated, he would delve into the reasons they needed Allen’s assistance. Yet, in the same breath, he would always assure her that she had the power to refuse.

Shaking her head, she felt as if her chest might explode from the weight of the terrifying possibility that Allen could be right.

“You wouldn’t betray me like that, would you?” she whispered, dropping to her knees beside Reginald, desperately taking his hand in hers. He remained still, lost in the depths of his dreams.

The burdens he carried—his hardships, the pain of losing his mother—had finally worn him down to a shadow of his former self.

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