Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 98

Chapter 98: A Quiet, Desperate Plea

“Perry, please… you have to step back. Let Marcela examine her, or she won’t survive!” Timothy’s voice cracked with urgency as he pleaded with the fierce black beast that Perry had become. “Perry, you’re going to kill her if you don’t move!”

But Perry was lost deep within his feral nature, unreachable by their desperate calls.

“Perry!” Flynn shouted as well, his tone edged with frustration. Though he still doubted Phoebe’s suitability for the king and wished she would vanish, he was pragmatic enough to understand the danger of losing her now. If Perry lost his mate in this state, they might never get him back—and Flynn had no wish to see his king destroyed.

“Perry! Come back! Holding onto her like this won’t help!” Flynn stepped forward beside Timothy, trying to close the distance, but the beast growled fiercely, a low and threatening sound that forced Timothy to yank him back immediately.

“What are you doing? You’ll get yourself killed!” Timothy warned sharply.

“What choice do we have? Stand here and watch her die? If she dies, Perry will be lost to us forever!” Flynn’s voice was firm, his logic undeniable.

Timothy winced, caught in the unbearable uncertainty of the moment. “You know we can’t take him on.”

When his mind was clear, Perry wouldn’t hesitate to tear them apart if they challenged him. Now, under the beast’s control, any attempt to approach would almost certainly end in their deaths.

Timothy’s mind flashed to the bodies strewn across the hallways—victims of Perry’s rage.

One wrong step, and they would join those lifeless forms.

“I know,” Flynn admitted, his brow furrowed deeply. That had been his initial plan, but Timothy’s caution forced him to reconsider.

His gaze drifted down to Phoebe lying weakly on the ground. She was fading fast, her body battered and betraying her with a miscarriage underway. Yet, despite everything, she was still conscious—barely enough to hear them.

“Phoebe,” Timothy called softly but repeatedly, unsure if she could hear his voice. The beast’s eyes locked onto him with sharp vigilance.

The creature hadn’t attacked them, but it was clear any attempt to get closer would provoke a violent response. The beast was fiercely protective, locked in a defensive stance.

“Phoebe, tell him to shift back. Tell him to shift back,” Timothy urged again.

Phoebe’s eyelids fluttered weakly. She gasped ragged breaths, lips parting, but no sound came out.

“It’s no use,” Flynn said quietly. “She can’t speak.”

Timothy’s frustration showed. “Phoebe, please—tell him to shift, or we can’t reach you.”

Phoebe struggled to force her voice, but exhaustion held her down. Even her voice refused to obey.

With a monumental effort, she managed to move her hand. Her lower body had gone numb; she couldn’t even feel the warmth of the fluid pooling beneath her.

She reached out and touched the beast’s thick black fur. The creature stiffened, turning its head to look at her.

Unable to speak, she silently mouthed one word: please.

She didn’t even know what she was begging for anymore.

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