Perry's POV
"What did you say?" I narrowed my eyes at my royal beta, releasing my grip on his throat just enough so he could draw breath. The pressure around his neck eased slightly.
"Pregnant... Phoebe is pregnant..." Timothy gasped, sucking in air desperately. He'd thought death was coming for him in my hands. From the way I stared at him now, he might have preferred it—my glare burned like hellfire itself.
"No. She's not."
"Marcela confirmed it," Timothy managed, still tense beneath my loosened but present grip. One surge of rage and I could snap his neck in an instant. "Phoebe's pregnant and she's in terrible shape. We have to get her out."
My expression remained stone. Whatever thoughts churned in my mind stayed locked away.
I went still, and Timothy didn't dare move—afraid I'd decide he was making too much noise and end him right there.
Slowly, I climbed off him and settled beside my royal gamma.
