Chapter 154: Chapter 154 A Familiar Intruder
Phoebe’s POV
Sleep wouldn’t come. That’s how I knew the instant someone slipped into my bedroom—but the corridor outside stayed eerily silent.
Two guards stood watch at my door. If an intruder had forced their way to me, I’d have heard the clash of steel, the sound of a struggle.
The silence left only two possibilities racing through my mind: either the guards recognized whoever had entered, or...
They were one of the surviving Movement members—those who’d burrowed so deep into the palace that even the king’s bloody purge had missed them.
I couldn’t bear to consider the second option. It was too terrifying. Because it meant this person had come to kill me.
My mind was spiraling, but I couldn’t stop it. Not after everything I’d endured.
Without hesitation, I rolled out of bed, snatched the fruit knife from my nightstand, and dove underneath. I curled into the smallest ball possible, wishing I could simply vanish.
Just in time. Footsteps entered my sleeping area and paused—probably because the bed was empty.
The shoes were definitely a man’s. I watched them move toward my bed, my heart hammering against my ribs.
My fingers wrapped around the knife handle until my knuckles went white. I had no idea how to fight, but with a weapon, maybe I could make it to the door and scream for help.
Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me.
I pressed my palm over my mouth to muffle any sound, even though it had been forever since I’d heard my own voice anyway.
Then he stopped right beside the bed. My heart nearly stopped when he crouched down and peered underneath.
This was it. I had to strike first—it was my only shot. I gripped the knife tighter.
When his head lowered to look at me, I swung.
But I missed. Instead, his hand caught my wrist.
"Phoebe, it’s me."
The voice sounded familiar, but panic clouded my brain. I kept fighting to break free until he effortlessly pulled me out from under the bed.
"It’s me. It’s me. You’re safe, you’re fine."
I stopped struggling when Perry’s face came into focus. A thin line of blood marked his cheek where my knife had grazed him, though the wound was already healing, leaving only a crimson stain.
"It’s me. Perry."
My breathing came in sharp gasps as the knife fell slack in my grip. I stared at him like he was a ghost I couldn’t quite believe in.
He pressed his lips to my forehead, grounding me. "I came a day early. It’s me. You’re fine."
Only when that familiar electric spark shot through me at his touch did reality finally crash back.
I dropped the knife and threw my arms around him, holding on like he might disappear.
Tears streamed down my face while he wrapped me up, his hand stroking my back in soothing circles.
"I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise you, but not like this," he murmured against my hair, pressing my face to his chest.
He’d expected happy tears, not terror.
"Seems I made you cry again." He kissed the top of my head, and I pulled back to look at him with confusion. "I left them to handle the aftermath so I could get back to you sooner. Turns out I outdid myself—I’m two days early."
The distance from Obsidian Claw pack to the central city was half a day’s journey. But Perry had done it in seven hours, running without a single stop.
He chuckled at my shocked expression. I couldn’t wrap my head around that kind of speed, but then again, this was the king we were talking about.
I couldn’t even imagine how fast he’d been in his beast form.
The blood on his cheek caught my attention. Frowning, I wiped it away with my thumb, the wound already completely healed. I gave him an apologetic look.
"Don’t worry about this." He leaned down to kiss me. "This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to kill me, after all. I’m getting used to it."
I couldn’t believe he was joking about it, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be angry either. So I just smacked his chest in annoyance.
"Come on, I’m exhausted. I need some rest."
He hadn’t felt it before, but now with me safe in his arms, back in this bedroom, the exhaustion hit him like a wall.
He stood and lifted me onto the bed.
Perry curled against me, his head on my chest while I ran my fingers through his hair.
He definitely needed a haircut.
Within minutes, he was out cold. Completely drained. He’d shut out everything except my scent, focused only on the fact that I was safe in his arms. Nothing else mattered.
When morning came, I woke to find him still dead to the world. His face was buried in the crook of my neck, arms and legs wrapped around me like I was his personal body pillow.
Even unconscious, he was possessive as hell.
He reminded me of an octopus. I tried to untangle myself but gave up quickly—I’d just have to wait for him to wake up.
