Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 25

My fist pounded relentlessly against my sternum, each strike a desperate attempt to force my lungs into submission. The air I drew was ragged and shallow, barely enough to sustain me. I wasn’t sure if the sharp ache in my chest was from the frantic dash out of the dining hall or from the suffocating memory that clawed at my ribs—the instant Perry’s fingers had gripped my throat. Past and present collided violently in my mind: Kevin’s hands, the choking, the blackouts—each terrible night looping endlessly in my thoughts.

Now, whenever anyone’s touch grazed my neck, a cold sweat broke out, prickling across my skin like a warning. The flood of memories hit so fast and fierce it felt like a physical blow. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I murmured to myself, but the tremor running through my body betrayed my words. Slowly, I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor, the wooden surface cool and unyielding against my back. My fingers hovered hesitantly over my neck, as if simply feeling the spot might rewrite the painful truth.

The room spun dizzily around me. Hunger faded completely, replaced by a heavy, stone-like fear lodged deep in my stomach. Eventually, the trembling lessened—not because I’d healed, but because exhaustion dragged me under its weight. I curled into myself on the floor, the door pressing against my back like a fragile barrier between me and the world.

—

Flynn’s discomfort was written all over his face as we stood in the dungeon. I could tell by the way he kept turning his head away from the dark, sticky pools of blood pooling on the cold stone floor. The interrogation chamber had transformed into a grim stage for ruthless efficiency—three bodies sprawled across the floor, wounds precise yet fueled by rage.

“Perry, you need to tone it down,” Flynn said, his voice tight with unease. “We need them alive. We need names.”

I shrugged off his warning like an ill-fitting coat. “Done,” I said simply. The word hung in the air, heavy with both promise and menace. While others saw only brutality, I saw the job completed. Where they saw sin, I recognized the order that had to be enforced.

“How did you get the names?” Flynn pressed as two warriors entered to start the cleanup. He had already tried methods that failed; these men had stayed silent.

“You don’t know how to make them talk,” I said plainly. “You apply pressure until the truth seeps out. You know that.”

Flynn flinched at my confidence. “You sound proud of yourself.”

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