Perry’s POV
"My king..." Marcela’s voice shook as she tried reaching him. Her entire fra trembled. "My king... please, calm down..." She tracked the beast’s stare, realizing he was fixated on his mate.
"Marcela... don’t..." Caron’s voice ca out barely above a whisper. He held his breath without realizing it, knowing that one wrong move ant death.
Just like those warriors outside.
"Co over here..." he told Marcela.
Marcela couldn’t tell, but Caron recognized the way the beast watched his mate lying on the ground. Pure obsession mixed with fierce protectiveness.
High-ranking male shifters always displayed this possessiveness. The intensity depended on how dominant they were.
And no one could match the Mad King in that regard. He was beast incarnate.
"Co here, you’ll only get yourself killed." Caron felt torn about leaving his daughter alone with the king, but his instincts told him I would be fine.
Even lost in madness, the king’s beast would rember his mate. That was shifter magic—the mate bond kept your sanity tethered to reality.
But Caron spoke too much, drawing the enraged beast’s attention.
The massive black wolf stalked toward the forr beta, fangs gleaming. The beast crouched low, ready to strike, and Caron knew he wouldn’t survive if the king attacked.
He could barely stay conscious, let alone shift and fight. Even warriors in their pri struggled against the king.
"My king, no!" Marcela watched in terror as the king’s beast lunged at Caron.
This was it.
Caron thought this was his end.
But my voice cut through the thick tension in the dungeon. Soft, barely audible, yet enough to make the beast freeze.
"Perry..."
The sharp pain in my lower abdon made movent agony, but I used every ounce of strength to call his na.
I didn’t understand why I did it. I hated my father so much, but in that critical mont, I saved his life. I couldn’t stop myself.
"No, please..." I curled up, trembling. No matter how many blankets Marcela wrapped around , the cold bit deep.
The beast stopped. He’d been seconds from killing Caron.
For a mont, the black beast just stood there, staring at my pitiful form without moving. He didn’t try coming closer, but I felt his burning gaze.
"Perry..." I stretched out my hand, tears streaming down my face.
Then I felt sothing warm leak between my legs, and the tallic scent of blood filled the air.
I was bleeding heavily.
——
Finally, Timothy killed the last warrior blocking their path.
Through the mindlink, he learned the intruders had retreated and the king was safe. Perry was in the dungeon now, but no one dared check on him out of fear.
Timothy had ordered everyone to avoid the king, not wanting Perry to go on a killing spree against their own people after the enemy had fled.
"Are you going to see Perry?" Flynn asked. He’d shifted back to human form, too exhausted to maintain his beast. Timothy felt the sa—he’d taken the worst of the fighting.
Flynn wasn’t bad in combat, but the royal beta wasn’t built for this. Timothy had to watch out for him too.
"Yes. I’m worried."
"I’ll co with you."
Timothy welcod Flynn’s company. He needed all the help he could get to bring Perry back to reality.
This had happened before—Perry going on rampages, slaughtering palace inhabitants and leaving blood-soaked corridors for days.
Back then, only Flynn and Timothy could reach him.
If it happened again, they’d have better odds working together.
On their way to the dungeon, they surveyed the aftermath of Perry’s fury. Bodies lay mangled everywhere. The brutality alone marked it as Perry’s handiwork.
"This won’t end well..." Timothy dreaded what they’d find, and Flynn shared his dread.
Both quickened their pace as the blood scent grew stronger near Phoebe’s cell.
"No way..." Timothy muttered. His first thought—Perry had hurt Phoebe. He recognized her blood mixed in the air.
Getting closer, they heard Marcela’s panicked voice clearly.
"What’s happening?!" Timothy arrived first, eyes widening at the scene. "No... What happened?" He imdiately searched for Perry.
Still in beast form, standing guard over Phoebe while Marcela tried reasoning with him.
"Please, my king, let check her..." Marcela pleaded, voice shaking.
She worried about Phoebe’s condition but couldn’t get closer—the black beast stood sentinel beside her, snarling viciously.
Not far away, Caron lay bleeding and unconscious. Dying.
"Royal gamma Timothy, please... the lady is bleeding, she’s having a miscarriage. We’ll lose her too if the king won’t let examine her!"
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