Chapter 53: Chapter 53 His Devastating Fury
Phoebe’s POV
"I... didn’t do anything..." The words tumbled out broken and shaky. I had to pull myself together—this stuttering only made me look guilty. But how could I stay calm when Perry towered over me with that murderous glare?
His fury was written across every line of his face. The more I stumbled over my words, the more unreliable I sounded. Still, I had to make him understand.
"We talked... we just talked... he was being friendly with me."
"Friendly?" Perry let out a harsh laugh, prowling toward me before dropping onto the exact spot where Timothy had been sitting moments before. "He was being friendly, or were you trying to seduce him?"
That did it. That was the final straw.
No matter what I said, he’d never believe me—just like all the others. They’d pin the blame on me. Make it my fault.
I was always the one who drew trouble because I couldn’t speak properly. I was the one who let people twist my silence into guilt. I was the one who got blamed when others refused to understand me.
Everything was always my fault, and now Perry was just like them.
I’d thought we were making progress. I’d almost felt guilty about poisoning him before, but right now, all I wanted was to kill him.
"I didn’t do that. Why do you think so low of me?"
My voice came out barely above a whisper. I flinched at the accusation dripping from his tone.
"Low?" Perry looked absolutely vicious as he leaned closer, then inhaled near my skin. "I can smell Timothy on your body. Did he touch you?"
Yes, the royal gamma had touched me—but not the way Perry was imagining.
"Did he touch you?" He repeated the question when I didn’t answer fast enough. He already knew—he just wanted to hear me say it.
Wanted to see if I’d lie to his face.
I bit down on my lip. "Yes, but it’s not like how you think—"
"How I think? What do you think I think?"
Perry seized my shoulder, fighting to control his rage. He knew Timothy wouldn’t betray him like this, but he couldn’t say the same about me.
I was known for trying to seduce my mate who’d rejected me. Perry wouldn’t put it past me to work my way with Timothy.
The mere thought made his stomach churn.
It took everything in him not to crush my shoulder.
He despised this feeling, but he hated our bond even more.
"I... we only talked..."
"What did you talk about?"
I couldn’t answer that.
How could I when I’d struggled to open up even to Timothy, despite his sympathy and patience?
And now Perry stormed in with all his fury, demanding the same thing. This time, I couldn’t force out a single word. My chest tightened—I could barely breathe.
My reaction only fueled his anger. His grip on my shoulder turned brutal.
"Are you planning to get Timothy into bed with you?"
Perry’s eyes turned to slits. "Do you think you can find comfort in him?"
He’d crossed every line.
I don’t know what possessed me, but the next thing I knew, I’d slapped him so hard I thought I’d shattered my own hand. Then I shoved him away, leaping off the sofa to scream at him.
"Fuck you! I wish you were dead!"
Perry looked stunned by both the slap and my words, even though my hit clearly hadn’t damaged him at all.
But after the initial shock faded, his expression twisted into something cruel that made me shake with terror. He smiled, but his eyes blazed with rage.
"Do you think you’re the only person who’s wished me dead?" He tilted his head, rising to his feet. He loomed over me, and I instinctively stepped back. "Your words won’t hurt me. I’ve heard that since I could remember."
I blinked, desperate to escape. My mind screamed at me to run—run as far as possible. He was dangerous.
Yet my feet stayed planted. I couldn’t find the strength to move.
"Phoebe, you’re dead wrong if you thought I’d drop my guard around you and let you do whatever you pleased."
"Are you thinking about fucking Timothy now?"
"The world would be better without you!" I stormed toward the bathroom, slamming the door and turning the lock. I could hear his footsteps following.
"Open the door, or I’ll tear it down. And when I do, it won’t be good for you." Perry let me hide, knowing there was nowhere safe enough to escape him.
Meanwhile, I gasped for air, frantically searching the lower drawer until I found what I needed. The poison. The small bottle felt ice-cold in my trembling hands.
I twisted off the cap and drank more than I’d taken before. The liquid was now half-empty. The burning mint taste flooded my mouth.
How ironic—I could actually taste this poison.
This was the first thing I’d tasted in so long. I shoved it back in the drawer just as Perry lost his patience and made good on his threat.
The door exploded inward, hanging off its hinges as he burst into the bathroom. His eyes locked onto mine as I stared back defiantly.
I pressed my lips together, stubborn to the end.
Perry crossed the space in one long stride and yanked me toward him. Once I was close enough, he leaned down and crushed his mouth to mine.
Once again, he tasted mint on my lips. He didn’t have time to wonder about the strange flavor or why I tasted this way—his emotions had taken complete control, manifesting as raw fury.
His rage was devastating as he bit my lip. He tore my clothes away, hating Timothy’s scent on my skin.
He dragged me under the shower and turned it on.
I cried out as freezing water struck my body.
Perry seemed unaffected by the cold water—even though he was under the spray too, he showed no reaction to the freezing temperature.
"Get up!" He gripped my waist when I tried to curl up on the floor, the water so cold it felt like ice.
"No, please, don’t..." I begged, but Perry refused to listen as he flipped me over.
