Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 29

The unmistakable mark branded on Phoebe’s neck left no room for doubt. The rumors circulating through the pack had been true all along.

Her stepsister—the very same girl who once cowered behind walls, desperately trying to avoid the pack’s relentless cruelty—was here now, lying fragile and vulnerable in the king’s infirmary, bearing the king’s mark like a heavy chain.

When Mason, the ever-gossipy omega, had babbled about the king’s mate and her mysterious background, Viola hadn’t given it much thought. But the moment the girl was described as quiet, striking, and belonging to the Obsidian Claw pack, Viola had frozen in place. There was only one person who fit that description so perfectly.

Phoebe.

It had been two long years since she last laid eyes on her. Two years since Viola had fled the pack, abandoning her Luna title without uttering a single farewell. There had been no time for goodbyes—not when Kevin’s wrath could have ended her mate’s life, and her stepfather would have eagerly held Kevin down to see it done.

Now, standing here, bathed in the harsh, sterile light of the infirmary, Viola’s stomach twisted into knots. Her stepsister—the girl who had once been mocked for lacking a wolf—was now the mate of the Mad King. The bitter irony of it all was almost cruel in its sharpness.

“What happened to her?” Viola demanded, her voice sharp but tinged with a creeping fear beneath her controlled exterior. The tales of the king’s volatile temper haunted her thoughts, and for a moment, she feared the worst.

Helen glanced up from the table where she was mixing her remedies, her expression calm but tinged with sympathy. “She has a severe stomach ache,” she explained. “I sedated her because she’s incredibly weak. Apparently, she ate something far too spicy. The royal gamma gave her those ridiculous marshmallow sticks soaked in chili extract.”

Viola blinked in disbelief. “The gamma did that? And she just kept eating them?”

Helen nodded, her voice softening as she replied, “The king suspects she might have lost her sense of taste. She didn’t even react.”

That made sense. Phoebe had always been the kind of person to stay silent rather than risk offending anyone.

Viola exhaled slowly, a mixture of relief and unease twisting inside her. Six months of palace life had taught her much about the royal gamma—his charm, his easy laughter, and the casual warmth that made others forget the sharp edge beneath it. He was harmless only if you believed the act.

Helen handed her a small vial of tonic. “Here, this will help with your dizziness. And since you’re here, let me check on you and the baby.”

Viola placed a hand protectively over her stomach—three months along now, though the mornings still felt brutal and unforgiving. Helen had been a blessing, one of the few people she could truly trust in this strange, cold palace.

“Do you… know her?” Helen asked gently, noticing how Viola’s gaze kept drifting back to Phoebe.

For a fleeting moment, Viola considered lying. She had carefully constructed a new life here, far away from the ghosts of her past. But something about seeing Phoebe like this—so vulnerable, so unguarded—stirred a part of her she thought she had long buried.

“She’s my stepsister,” Viola admitted quietly.

Helen’s eyes widened in surprise. “Your stepsister?”

Viola nodded slowly. “Though I doubt she’d want to see me when she wakes.”

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