Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 92

92 Chapter 92 The King’s Own Reflection

Timothy’s Perspective

Time was slipping away far too quickly.

I lifted my gaze to the sky, watching as the first light of dawn pierced the lingering darkness. The night had already slipped past, and with it, the precious moments I had to sway Perry’s resolve. The window to change his mind was painfully narrow.

I knew his anger still burned fiercely, clouding his judgment. But beneath that fury, I was certain regret would settle in once the storm inside him calmed.

Yet, even with that hope, the time was far too short.

Damn it all.

What was I supposed to do now?

“Do everything you can to keep them both alive,” I commanded, watching as Marcela’s expression faltered, as if tears threatened to spill. Still, she forced a reluctant nod.

The healer had already explained in painstaking detail why success was unlikely, but I had to ask regardless.

“I can’t promise anything,” Marcela whispered at last, “but I’ll do everything in my power.”

“Thank you, Marcela,” I said softly.

Leaving the cell behind, I stationed a guard with her, just in case she needed help.

My next destination was the interrogation chamber, where I found Cameron sprawled across the cold stone floor. The room was stark, empty—just four bare walls enclosing a chilling silence.

“Tell me everything about the Movement,” I demanded.

A bitter laugh escaped Cameron’s lips, and I felt an overwhelming urge to seize him by the throat. But I held back. Not yet.

“Why the hell should I tell you anything?” he sneered.

“Because it’s the only way your daughter will survive this,” I replied firmly.

His eyes snapped up, sharp and calculating, ice-cold in their intensity. “What makes you think I care about saving her?” His fingers twisted nervously as his lips pressed into a tight line.

Perry’s Perspective

The morning meeting went on, but none of the elders dared challenge me. They could feel the bloodlust radiating off me in waves, and they were wise not to test my limits.

They should have called the whole thing off—the tension in that room was suffocating, thick enough to choke on.

But to their horror, the meeting dragged on longer than usual. I tore apart every minor error, every poorly presented detail, my fury sharpening with each word.

When I finally dismissed them, they scattered like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

All except one.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify