Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 7

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Phoebe’s Perspective

Reginald’s eyes blazed with pure hatred as he fixed me with a fierce glare. My cold indifference only seemed to fuel his rage; the more I turned away from him, the more his temper unraveled. But I simply couldn’t summon any care. Inside, I felt hollow, as if all life had been drained from my soul. Kevin had shattered something deep within me, leaving behind nothing but an empty, aching void.

“I’m going to kill you!” Reginald spat, shoving me violently against the cold stone wall. His body pressed hard against mine, pinning me in place.

Even as my breath hitched, fear refused to surface. Death no longer scared me—it felt like an old companion I had long awaited. There was a time when I might have welcomed it with open arms.

“Do it,” I whispered softly, eyes closed, bracing myself. “Kill me.”

But my calm was not the reaction he sought. And Reginald wasn’t reckless enough to carry out such a deed. He knew full well the consequences if Kevin found out. The alpha-to-be’s wrath was legendary, and even Reginald wasn’t foolish enough to provoke it.

Cursing under his breath, he shoved me aside instead. His hand rose, poised to strike, but halted mid-air. A slap would leave marks—evidence that could bring danger. Though he despised me, his own survival mattered more.

Instead, he spat at me with venomous contempt, the gesture dripping with loathing. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed off to prepare for the ceremony. His stepfather would tear him apart if he wasn’t ready on time.

I wiped the spit from my cheek with the back of my hand, but there was no relief in his absence—only the same numbness that had settled deep inside me long ago. This wasn’t living; it was mere survival.

In the dimly lit bathroom, I washed the contempt from my face, the cool water a brief respite. Then I returned to my duties. Miss Kira greeted me with her usual sharpness, her voice slicing through the corridor as she barked orders. She could hurl insults all she wanted, but she had no power to punish me—not today. Not until the ceremony concluded.

“Here! Take this drink to the front row—Beta Cameron,” she snapped. Then, as if realizing what she’d said, she paused, frowning. Ordering me to serve my own father made her hesitate briefly, but only for a moment.

“I’ll do it,” I replied flatly. Facing my father meant nothing anymore. He was just another face in the crowd, no more significant than anyone else.

The last time we’d spoken was months ago, after Kevin nearly tore Reginald apart for stepping too close to me. Cameron had asked what happened, heard Kevin’s version, and moved on. Whether he believed it or not had ceased to matter long ago.

The ceremony proceeded flawlessly. The crowd erupted in cheers as Kevin stepped forward, radiating confidence and charm. He embodied the alpha the pack had eagerly awaited. But the mood shifted dramatically when the king rose from his seat.

His presence silenced the entire courtyard. Royal guards moved with precise, disciplined steps as he approached the podium to formally acknowledge Kevin’s claim. Even the breeze seemed to hold its breath.

—

Phoebe’s Perspective

That was the moment I stepped into the grand hall, and the restless unease that had gnawed at me since dawn grew unbearable. My heart hammered wildly, threatening to burst free from my chest. Every fiber of my being screamed that something—someone—awaited me inside.

With each step closer, the pull intensified. Fear and anticipation twisted together inside me, tightening like a knot. It felt as if invisible threads were tugging at my chest, drawing me toward something I couldn’t yet comprehend.