Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 36

By the time I stepped into my room, the fury inside me roared like a tempest, drowning out every rational thought. I slammed the door shut behind me, staggered to the bed, and began pounding the pillow with all my strength until my arms throbbed with pain. In my mind, that pillow morphed into Perry’s face, a target for all my pent-up frustration. If only I had the bravery to strike him for real. One solid blow, and I could vanish into the ground, hidden from the world forever.

Yet, the flames of rage surged through my chest, relentless and consuming. He believed every deceitful word spoken about me, while my own truth fell on deaf ears. No matter how hard I tried to explain, no matter how sincere my pleas were, he would always opt for someone else’s fabricated version of reality.

Engaging in arguments felt futile. Each time I attempted to defend myself, it only seemed to ignite his anger further. The weight of despair pressed heavily upon my chest, making it difficult to draw breath. I fought against the tears, clenching my fists and squeezing my eyes shut, but they came anyway, hot and relentless.

When Mason arrived, flanked by two omegas to tidy up the chaos in my room and bathroom, I threw the blanket over my head, pretending to be asleep. They worked in silence, avoiding any mention of the cracked mirror or the bloodstains on the floor. Later, Mason returned with food in hand, but upon noticing I hadn’t moved an inch, she quietly left again, not uttering a single word.

Perry’s POV

Her scent wafted through the thin wall that separated our rooms—a subtle reminder that lingered, refusing to dissipate. I sat at my desk, the paper she had written on crumpled tightly between my fingers. I found myself stuck on the same haunting sentence: You’ll never believe me. The memory of her tear-streaked cheeks haunted me; the pain in her eyes felt achingly authentic. But to believe her would mean admitting my own mistakes—a concept I had never managed to grasp.

For three long days, I kept my distance from her, thinking it would help. Instead, the separation only deepened my turmoil. Even the ongoing war outside failed to distract me. Reports of our victories landed on my desk like ashes, cold and lifeless. We had captured one of Valerium’s major cities—a triumph by any standard. I sent rewards to the brave soldiers at the frontlines, dismissing the court’s pleas for a celebration. Let them revel without my presence.

The palace grew eerily quiet, a heavy silence settling over everything. Even the elders kept their heads down, avoiding my gaze. After a week of this unbearable tension, my temper reached a boiling point.

“Just go talk to her already,” Flynn snapped one morning, his frustration palpable. “I don’t care what you do—just do something. You’re impossible to be around.”

“Shut your mouth,” I barked back, my voice echoing off the chamber walls. Earlier, I had dismissed half the council for their incessant complaints, their whines grating against my already frayed nerves.

Flynn stood his ground, unfazed by my outburst. “You brought her here. You marked her. Everyone knows she’s your mate—so what are you waiting for?”

I glared at him, but even I couldn’t conjure an answer. With her, nothing seemed to fit. Fear had always been my weapon, my means of control, but the sight of her shrinking away from me made my stomach churn. I didn’t want her obedience. I didn’t even want her fear. All I craved was peace.

“She won’t approach you because you terrify her,” Flynn stated bluntly. “If you don’t resolve this, your anger will end up destroying more than just your enemies.”

“Let it burn,” I muttered under my breath.

Flynn looked ready to retort, but just then, the doors swung open, and Timothy strode in, a thick folder of notes in hand. He took one look at the tension hanging in the air and raised an eyebrow. “Did I interrupt another royal meltdown?”

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