Turncoat by Megan Derr (the false prince series txt) 📕

again, it was to the soft beeping of medical equipment, the smell of Byron's hospital area, antiseptic and old wood. He drew a breath, winced faintly as that woke all sorts of aches and pains, though thankfully, they seemed mostly muffled by a wall of medicine.

He stared up at the ceiling, spotless and more like it belonged in a pub than a medical ward.

So he'd lived. Barely, probably.

He looked around as best he could from his prone position, saw the monitors that displayed his readouts, the way one had spiked when he woke up. So somebody was probably on their way up.

Fumbling gingerly around the blankets, he finally found the little remote that let him raise the top part of the bed so he was somewhat sitting up.

The door slammed open a couple of minutes later and Greg filled the space. Well, what was left of Greg. The boy looked smaller and thinner than usual. He looked damn near hollowed out, and there were bruises under his red-rimmed eyes. "What in the world—"

"You're finally awake!" Greg said, cutting him off as he rushed over to the bed, tears streaming. His hands fluttered about like birds, from Dixie's chest to the blankets to the stuff stuck in him and then back to the blankets.

Dixie finally captured one of them, though his arm was a bit stiff. "Calm down, kitten."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Greg said, tears running anew. "You've been asleep for almost two months! And you're still hurt, but Byron says he can't fix you until you heal a certain amount on your own, but you're still hurt and it's stupid and doesn't make sense and you almost—" He glared murder over the fingers covering his mouth.

Dixie smiled faintly, sliding his fingers away to thread through Greg's hair and draw him down to drop a soft kiss on his mouth. "I'm fine. The damage that won't heal is because I'm a living computer, honey. We gotta replace all the nanowork, which yeah, I have to be healthy to undergo. It ain't quite as easy as defragging me every few months. And the damage is slow to heal because of the whole living computer thing, too. Suffice to say, Byron is frustrating, but not an asshole. You look worse than me. Ain't you been sleeping and eating?"

"Only when Byron makes me," Greg replied, hand curling around the one still in his hair. "Are you sure you're okay? Because you were going to die, and then suddenly it seemed like you'd live, and then everything went nuts and Byron almost lost you anyway…"

Dixie gave him another soft kiss, tempted to take a deeper one but not succumbing when he knew he must smell something awful and who knew the state of his mouth. "I'm fine, and if I'm awake, then I'm near mended. So you'd better get some damned rest and put more meat on those bones. Hear?"

"Hear," Greg echoed and hugged him as tightly as he could manage with wounds and medical equipment in the way.

"So tell me what I've missed," Dixie said, but before Greg could reply, the sound of someone coming made them both turn. Byron and Leland filled the doorway, Byron smiling more brightly than Dixie had ever seen.

"It's about time you woke up, you lazy, outdated computer," Byron said as he stood next to Greg, Leland going to the other side of the bed. His eyes skimmed over the equipment, though there must have been feeds downstairs. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better, but been worse, too," Dixie said. "Tell me it wasn't for nothing."

Byron and Greg both broke into nigh-maniacal grins. "It wasn't for nothing," Byron said. "Turncoat hasn't been out of the news once since he brought down the Mason System and severely crippled the G.O.D., endangering the lives of everyone in the world while the G.O.D. struggles to recover and their ability to protect the world in the meantime is severely reduced. You are wanted just dead now, and they've tripled the bounty."

"Damn."

"What in the hell did you do?" Greg asked. "Byron says from what he's gathered, the system is fucking gone."

Dixie nodded. "Yep. Daddy and I designed a virus years ago that would destroy the whole system, in basically four stages. The only problem is that it requires three people with master access to carry out. That was something we had to put in place, didn't have much choice about. But there were loopholes to exploit. Daddy was the first requirement, and the first key was turned upon his death. The second key was me letting the virus out. The third key I changed from the original to be Hades, and I made damned sure he never knew it."

"He's dead," Greg said quietly, fingers playing restlessly with the blanket, picking, twisting, smoothing, right back to picking. "The news hasn't said much, but from we've gleaned, they found him lying dead in his office, blood coming out everywhere."

"He'd have felt every moment of the system dying, would have died with it." Dixie gestured to himself. "The same alterations that give us such fluid access to the system also means we feel the system, and suffer in real life when we suffer in there. So he died pretty horribly and I ain't a mite sorry."

"Nor should you be," Byron said.

Dixie nodded. "What about Ariadne? Did the information reach you?"

"Yep, and we're working on that plan now, so stop asking questions and focus on healing." He squeezed Dixie's hand, playfully patted his cheek. "I'll go fix you some food, and no fucking complaining while you eat."

"Make it taste good and I won't complain."

Byron rolled his eyes and left. Leland smiled tentatively. "I'm glad you're okay. I've not been here long, but it's not the same without you. God knows these two are bigger babies with you missing. Welcome back."

"Thanks," Dixie said, and with a parting smile, Leland followed Byron from the room, closing the door behind him.

Greg took his hand, held it tightly. "No more doing