Phoebe’s POV
The agony coursing through my body told everything I needed to know—Perry was dying.
The warriors could sense it too, that crushing pain radiating through the bond, which drove them to burst into the room. They found their king unconscious, a blade buried deep in his chest.
I sat there, staring at him without a flicker of emotion crossing my face. I might as well have been gazing at the ocean instead of my dying mate.
What they couldn’t understand was that I felt every bit of his tornt. The mate bond stretched taut between us, forcing to experience his suffering as if it were my own.
The only difference? I wasn’t the one bleeding out.
——
The warriors wasted no ti summoning Marcela to assess the king’s condition, but the chest wound ran too deep. All she could do was stem the bleeding temporarily.
They rushed Perry to the hospital, where shifter doctors fought to save his life. Against the odds, they succeeded.
The warriors quickly ford their conclusion—Phoebe had stabbed the king. That’s exactly what they reported to Flynn.
"Where is she?" Flynn demanded the mont he arrived at the hospital. He ensured Perry received the best care available before turning his attention elsewhere.
"She’s at the beach house," the warrior replied, then imdiately averted his gaze from the royal beta’s burning anger. The intensity was terrifying.
Without another word, Flynn spun around and headed for the beach house, where Phoebe waited with Marcela.
——
Phoebe’s POV
Marcela kept trying to coax information from , desperate to understand what really happened between Perry and .
Now that the crisis had passed, she couldn’t make sense of how I could have stabbed the king—especially from the front, where he would have seen it coming and could have stopped .
"My lady, please tell what happened?" Marcela’s fingers wrapped around mine, squeezing gently for my attention. But I said nothing.
I stared at the blood caked under my fingernails. Perry’s blood.
"What happened between you and the king, my lady?"
Her voice carried gentleness, though she couldn’t mask her worry. The warriors were all saying I had stabbed the king, and their report to the palace would reflect that sa story.
But Marcela sensed there was more to it.
"I want him dead," I whispered, my gaze locked on the crimson evidence. "I want him to die."
"My lady... so you really tried to kill the king?" Shock colored Marcela’s voice, her heart heavy with the implications. Such an act would be considered high treason. The king would demand severe punishnt.
I would face execution, especially with royal beta Reginald involved. From what Marcela had ntioned, he was already at the hospital.
She understood the palace dynamics—Reginald’s hatred for . It would be better if royal gamma Timothy were handling this, but he was currently leading warriors against the Obsidian Claw pack and their allies.
"But why didn’t the king stop you? He could have prevented it, right?"
For a brief mont, I lifted my head, emotion flickering in my dull stare.
I t Marcela’s eyes briefly before turning toward the night sky.
"I am... in pain." My lips trembled as the words fought their way out. "I want... to die." Speaking felt like drowning in an endless ocean. Each breath beca harder to draw.
"My lady..."
"He made ... stab him." My voice wavered.
I could still feel his hand covering mine, guiding the blade into his chest.
Was this what happened when the mate bond prepared to snap?
I’d heard whispers about it—how you could feel everything your mate experienced because you shared one soul.
"It hurts..." I gasped, clutching the front of my shirt as my breathing turned ragged. "It hurts..."
Marcela rushed closer. "Let see, let check on you." Her brow furrowed as she searched for what was wrong with my body.
Aside from my racing heart, she found nothing physically amiss. Technically, I was fine, but there was an underlying anguish she couldn’t heal.
"My lady..." Marcela watched as I curled up on the bed, still clutching my chest. My entire body shook, breath coming in short gasps while tears stread down my face.
She wished she could ease my pain, but she had no idea how.
The door suddenly exploded open, kicked with enough force to make Marcela jump.
"Royal beta Flynn?" Marcela’s surprise was evident. She’d expected him to remain with the king, but his presence here ant...
"Leave, Marcela," Flynn’s voice cut like ice.
"Royal beta Flynn, let explain sothing. I don’t think lady Phoebe intended to kill the king. She said... the king drove the knife into his own heart."
That’s what I had told her.
"Did she tell you that?"
"Yes," Marcela replied quickly.
"And you believed that?" Flynn’s disbelief was unmistakable.
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