Phoebe’s POV
Royal Gamma Timothy showed up with marshmallow sticks, suggesting we share them. His cheerful, laid-back vibe made it seem like nothing in the world could dampen his spirits.
He was nothing like the king or the royal beta. Sothing about him made my shoulders drop, the tension easing from my body.
"Oh, you’re into this show? too!" Timothy grinned as he dropped onto the couch across from . He held out a marshmallow stick, and I took it without thinking.
Honestly, I hated it. No sweetness hit my tongue—just sticky gunk coating my mouth with a strange texture. But I couldn’t bring myself to refuse him and risk hurting his feelings.
Sothing seed off about the marshmallow stick, though. Back in my pack, I rembered the coating being white cream or chocolate, not this red stuff.
I kept my mouth shut. Maybe things were different here in Centra City. I forced myself to keep eating, missing the way his eyes tracked my every move.
"So you’re the king’s mate." It wasn’t really a question.
After what felt like forever— wondering why the hell a royal gamma was here watching cartoons with —Timothy finally broke the silence. His gaze felt like it was peeling back layers, reading secrets I didn’t know I was keeping.
"Yes, I think so..." My fingers found the mark on my neck without permission. I had no clue how to answer sothing so direct.
"But before this, you were mated to Alpha Kevin. He rejected you."
My body locked up like I’d been hit by lightning, but I fought to stay calm. "Yes." The word barely made it past my lips as sha burned through .
"Then why do you still want him?" His eyebrows shot up as he grabbed the remote and killed the sound.
The silence pressed down on like a weight. Unease twisted in my gut. I’d been so wrong about the gamma being easygoing. He wouldn’t hold a royal position if he was soft.
"I don’t." I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth to stop the stutter threatening to break free. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
The pressure rolling off him wasn’t as crushing as what I felt from the king, but it still made my skin crawl.
"That’s not what I heard, though." He tilted his head, studying the panic probably written all over my face. Then he leaned back, letting his posture relax, backing off when he realized I was about to shatter.
"I heard you’d been chasing the alpha, begging him to fuck you." I flinched hard, my nose wrinkling in disgust, but the words stuck in my throat.
His eyes never left my face. "So tell —is that true?"
I shook my head frantically.
"No? Then tell what really happened."
——
"She’s terrified." Timothy slouched deeper into the couch in the king’s study. "You’ve been reading fear as disgust this whole ti. I’m telling you, those rumors are bullshit. She only looked sick when I ntioned Alpha Kevin’s na."
"Or she’s one hell of an actress." Flynn’s skepticism never took a break. He still believed Phoebe was playing gas, because if she wasn’t, then the intel he’d gathered from Obsidian Claw Pack was garbage. And Flynn being played? Not happening.
"You sure about that?" Flynn raised an eyebrow at the royal gamma while dropping more docunts in front of Perry.
"Well, I can’t be completely sure." Timothy shrugged like it didn’t matter.
"I thought you were supposed to be good at reading people."
"Hey, that was my first ti eting her. What did you expect—mind reading?" Timothy shot the royal beta a dirty look, which Flynn ignored completely. "But you’re right about one thing. I think sothing’s wrong with her tongue."
Timothy explained about the special marshmallow sticks he’d brought—the ones soaked in hot sauce so intense it made his eyes water. That’s why he hadn’t touched them.
"She ate them without even blinking. Like they tasted like nothing."
"Maybe she likes spicy food." Flynn wasn’t backing down.
"Or maybe she can’t taste anything at all."
The two of them locked eyes, tension crackling between them. Just another typical day when they shared the sa room.
"Why don’t you just ask her straight up? Start a real conversation for once," Timothy suggested, then sighed at Perry’s complete lack of social skills.
The king didn’t do conversations. He only knew violence.
——
Perry’s POV
I left the study before Flynn and Timothy could start their pointless fighting.
Instead of heading to my bedroom, I went to hers. The door wasn’t locked. When I stepped inside, I found her curled up on the sofa, her body twisted in obvious pain.
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