Chapter 45: Chapter 45 Exactly What You Want
Phoebe’s POV
I stared at the empty page before me—as void as my thoughts. What could I possibly write?
I couldn’t betray Mason. I couldn’t risk my own destruction either. Still, I understood why I’d agreed to this deadly mission.
War destroyed lives—not just the soldiers bleeding out on battlefields, but the families left to grieve in their wake.
And for what? This nightmare existed solely because the Mad King couldn’t control his bloodlust. He craved violence, started this war for his twisted pleasure.
Because of his madness, countless people like Mason suffered.
I grasped her desperation to end this insanity. Of course people opposed him, but they stayed silent—the Mad King’s relationship with violence was legendary.
Cross him, and you died. Simple as that.
Perry probably expected resistance, but he hadn’t realized how close his enemies lurked.
"Why do you have to wage war?" I scribbled the question and handed him the paper. His brows furrowed as he read.
"What? Suddenly interested in warfare?" He returned the paper with a dismissive gesture.
"Many people died during the war," I wrote back, gnawing the pen’s tip nervously. His expression darkened at the topic.
Perry crouched down, bringing his eyes level with mine. I instinctively pulled back.
His hand clamped on my shoulder, preventing escape. At least he avoided gripping my chin—no fresh scratches today.
"What’s this about? Did Cameron tell you this?" His voice carried a dangerous edge. I shook my head. "Why this sudden interest in war?"
My newfound curiosity obviously seemed suspicious. This was the last conversation Perry expected with his mate.
"Speak up. Is it Cameron? Your father feeding you ideas?" His eyes narrowed menacingly. I shook my head again, reaching for the paper and pen.
Perry hurled both items across the room. "Talk. I want words. You’ll discuss war with your father but not me?"
No—I’d never discussed war with Father. Cameron never mentioned it, though he shared Mason’s ultimate goal: the king’s death.
Mason had taught me about the war’s reality.
"Tell me!" Perry roared, his patience evaporating. This woman unraveled his control.
He’d promised himself better behavior around me. He’d keep his temper leashed, especially during our private moments.
Last night and this morning had filled him with hope. We’d seemed closer, finally finding our rhythm together.
Now everything crumbled—worse than a setback.
"Talk to me!" he bellowed in my face.
If I revealed even a hint that Cameron had discussed war with me, tried to convince me to sway Perry—I could picture the Mad King’s fury. He’d incinerate the Obsidian Claw pack.
I didn’t care about those who’d tormented me. Most pack members either ignored my abuse or participated for Kevin’s approval.
But the other half was different.
They’d never hurt me. Some secretly offered help, and I couldn’t forget their kindness.
However I analyzed it, Perry’s death would benefit this kingdom.
Besides, he didn’t treat me much better than my abusers. Especially now, screaming at me with that hair-trigger temper. I wanted to stab him with that discarded pen.
But Perry was my mate.
I couldn’t betray my destined partner. My only hope was changing his mind, stopping this war.
"Refusing to answer?" His voice dropped to a lethal whisper.
Before I could react, Perry slammed me to the floor, my back hitting cold tiles. In one violent motion, he tore my dress away, exposing skin and bra.
Shock paralyzed me momentarily. I stared up at him, confused, until he ripped away my bra too.
No. Not again.
"Really testing my patience, aren’t you?"
Perry watched me shake my head as tears spilled down my cheeks. Still, I wouldn’t speak. "I tried treating you right, but you want to destroy everything."
He pinned both my arms above my head with one hand while the other stripped away my underwear. Heat flushed my skin—breasts, stomach, core—all exposed under his gaze.
"Want me to treat you badly? Is this what you need? Want to relive how that bastard took you? That why you’re desperate to return to him?" His fingers pinched my nipple harder, drawing a pained yelp. "Miss being treated like trash? I can oblige."
A predatory smirk twisted his features as he forced my legs apart, positioning himself between them.
"Don’t want gentle treatment because this is what you crave? Should’ve told me from the start." His zipper rasped open.
"If you love being used as a toy, a plaything only good for fucking, then I’ll give you exactly what you want. You like being forced?"
I shook my head, biting my lip as he pinched my clit. No pleasure—only pain. My mind dragged me back to those dark memories when Kevin had treated me exactly like this.
"No... please," I whimpered, my voice raw and distant.
