Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 3

Phoebe’s POV

“I don’t have a family,” I said quietly, my voice steady on the surface but trembling just beneath. “You stopped being my father five years ago.” The words slipped out low and measured, each one weighed down by the ache in my throat from holding back the tears burning behind my eyes. I lifted my chin and met Cameron’s gaze head-on, refusing to look away this time. “I’ve been treated like a servant in this house for years. Making it official won’t change a thing. You’re just putting a label on what’s already true.”

Cameron’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing. His silence was louder than any argument he could have made. Deep down, I knew he understood what Viola and Reginald had done all these years—how they mocked, bullied, and humiliated me whenever they got the chance. But in his mind, I was the problem—the dramatic, fragile daughter who never adjusted after his remarriage.

To him, I was the jealous only child who couldn’t accept her new siblings.

He sighed heavily, the weight of his disappointment pressing down on the room, and finally muttered, “Stop making unnecessary drama, Phoebe. Your recklessness last night almost sparked a war between our pack and the Crimson Fang. Do you even grasp how serious this is?”

He moved behind his desk and sank into his chair with a tired air of authority, his fingers laced tightly together. “The alpha is furious. I’ll try to speak with him again once he’s calmed down.”

I stood there, numb and unmoved by his words. I didn’t care about the alpha’s anger or his reputation. All I wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep away the ache inside me. “May I go now?” I asked softly.

He nodded stiffly. “Go pack your things. You’re moving to the pack house. You’ll start working there tomorrow.”

That was it. My sentence, handed down like an afterthought.

Without another word, I turned and walked out. My body felt leaden, every step dragging with exhaustion. When I finally reached my room, I collapsed face-first onto the bed. The dampness of my clothes soaked into the sheets, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. My entire body burned with fever, my skin clammy and pale.

Five hours remained until midnight—until I turned eighteen and finally received my wolf. Most people would be counting down in excitement, surrounded by family, friends, and laughter. But I lay there alone, trembling from fever and loneliness.

When sleep finally claimed me, it was restless and filled with fragments of memory—Viola’s cruel laughter, my father’s disappointed eyes, Kevin’s cold, mocking smirk. Every ghost from my past clawed its way through my dreams.

By dawn, my fever hadn’t broken. My body ached as I forced myself out of bed to pack the few belongings I had. Someone had found the backpack I’d lost in the forest, but it was shredded beyond use. I grabbed another bag and stuffed in a few threadbare clothes and a worn blanket.

I was born around eight in the morning, so I still had a few hours before my wolf would appear. Normally, the pack would celebrate such a day, marking the first shift as a sacred milestone. But no one remembered mine. No one ever did.

“Happy birthday to me,” I whispered bitterly, slinging the backpack over my shoulder.

I left the house before anyone else was awake. The thought of Reginald’s smug grin or Cameron’s cold stare twisted my stomach. Better to slip away quietly than give them the satisfaction of watching me go.

When I arrived at the pack house, Gamma Brennan was waiting in the hallway. I introduced myself, though he already knew who I was and what I’d done. He looked exhausted. “You should know better than to run off and stir trouble between packs,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Follow me.”

He led me down a long corridor that smelled faintly of cleaning solution and aged wood until we stopped at a narrow door near the end. “You’ll stay here,” he said simply before turning and leaving.

The room was barely large enough for one person—a small bed pushed against the wall, a tiny cabinet leaning precariously to one side, and a narrow window bolted shut with a rusty latch. The air was thick and stale, as if no one had breathed in it for years.

I dropped my bag and sank onto the hard mattress. The fever crashed back with a vengeance, spinning the room around me. I pressed my palms to my temples, hoping the dizziness would fade. I knew I needed a healer, but even the thought of moving made my stomach churn.

Then the door flew open.

Kevin stormed in, fury radiating off him in waves. “You cost us a fortune,” he snapped sharply. His voice cut through the haze clouding my mind. I blinked up at him, dazed.

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