Chapter 78: Reaper Awakens

Seated in the chair, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit that barely concealed the bandages beneath his collar, was Prince Darius. His face was still pale from the month he had spent in a coma, but his eyes were wide open, burning with a lethal, absolute authority. "I dare any one of you leeches to lay a hand on him." his voice rasped, cutting through the silence of the chamber like a blade.

A collective gasp swept through the chamber, and several councilors scrambled to their feet in sheer disbelief. The King shot to his feet so quickly that his chair scraped violently against the floor. He hurried around the table, his hands shaking as he approached his son. "Darius? My God... My boy, Darius! You’re awake? What are you doing here? When did you wake up? Why didn’t anyone tell me? What is happening?"

"Calm down, Father," Darius said softly, raising a hand to gently steady the King’s arm. "I am fine. The doctors cleared me an hour ago."

"How is that possible?" The King’s voice cracked with disbelief. "You were unconscious. You were in the hospital. You were—"

"Father, breathe. I said I’m fine," Darius interrupted gently, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. The King stared at him for several seconds, his face still filled with disbelief, before looking uncertainly at the heavily tattooed man and the other equally intimidating men standing like statues behind the wheelchair.

"Who... who are these people with you, son?"

"My people, people I trust," Darius replied simply, his tone leaving no room for further questions. "I will explain everything later." He glanced briefly at the men behind him before turning his attention back to his father. "Trust me, Father."

The King looked as though he had no idea what to make of the situation, his gaze moving between Darius and the men surrounding him.

Darius signaled for Tractor to roll him farther into the center of the room, stopping just a few feet away, where he could see Basil clearly.

Basil stared down at Darius with stunned disbelief, his chest heaving as the massive, invisible weight lifted from his shoulders. A long, quiet breath escaped his lips, his hands finally unclenching at his sides.

Darius looked up, a faint, familiar smirk touching the corner of his lips as his eyes met Basil’s. "It’s nice to see you again, brother," he murmured, a teasing note creeping into his voice.

"Did you miss me?"

Basil stared at him for a long moment, then slowly rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp, exasperated sigh. "You’re unbelievable."

"I missed you too," Darius replied with a faint grin, his eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction.

Field Marshal Thompson could not believe what he was witnessing.

Prince Darius was out of the coma?

A cold, sharp panic flooded his chest, threatening to break through his composed exterior. His pulse hammered in his throat as he stared at the pale young man sitting in the wheelchair. It made no sense. Prince Darius had been lying in a vegetative state with his life hanging by a thread, and there had been no news of him waking. Thompson knew that very well because he had people everywhere, including inside the hospital. So how was he awake already, and why had no one alerted him?

More importantly, how had Darius managed to leave the hospital at all without anyone knowing? From the prince’s frail, sickly appearance and the dark shadows beneath his eyes, he was obviously not fully recovered and had clearly dragged himself out of a hospital bed through sheer, reckless force of will. But none of that mattered now. What mattered was that he was awake, sitting inside the council chamber, effectively destroying his meticulous political maneuvering in a single moment.

Thompson’s mind raced, desperately searching for an escape as the quiet murmurings in the room shifted around him. Why now, of all times? The entire council had been seconds away from forcing Basil into custody. His carefully constructed narrative was beginning to crumble before his eyes. With Darius now conscious, he could publicly clear Basil, dismantle the suspicion surrounding him, and redirect the court’s attention toward finding the real conspirators.

No. He would not let that happen.

Forcing his mouth into a practiced, sycophantic smile, Thompson bowed his head from his seat, making sure his voice sounded rich with relief.

"Your Highness... Prince Darius. What a profound blessing to see you awake and among us. I speak for the entire council when I say we are overjoyed that you are unharmed."

Darius tilted his head, his dark eyes fixing on Thompson with an unsettling, unblinking intensity. "Oh, really? Then why is it that I don’t feel particularly welcomed?" A strange smile touched his lips.

Thompson’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he quickly recovered, dipping his head respectfully. "Your Highness, I assure you, your return is a blessing to us all. I only meant to express my relief at seeing you awake and well."

"If I remember correctly," Darius began, a faint, humorless smile pulling at his lips, his voice raspy but echoing clearly through the chamber, "the last time I walked into this chamber, you were the loudest voice insisting on punishing Basil for a crime he didn’t commit. You accused him of stealing the fortunes and title that belonged to me."

The room went still, and Thompson’s smile stiffened slightly. "Your Highness, I—"

"And here you are again," Darius interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, "orchestrating another trial to lock him in a cell because, to you, he’s trying to have me killed so he can take over what’s mine."

"Your Highness, you have completely misconstrued my intentions," Thompson said quickly, raising his hands in a placating gesture as he looked around the table for support. "I was merely seeking justice for the attack on your life! Everything I have done in this chamber was strictly for your benefit, to ensure your safety and secure the crown!"

Darius let out a faint, dry laugh that turned into a quiet cough. "Right. For my benefit."

Basil watched him in silence. He had never seen Darius this serious, this cold, or this openly threatening. And for some odd reason, the only thought running through his mind was, Damn, he’s fucking hot. He really was. Basil almost mentally slapped himself for even having the thought. He must have completely lost his mind after everything that had been happening in his life lately if he could find this situation hot.

Darius shifted in his chair, wincing slightly as he adjusted his weight. He looked small in the large wheelchair, his hands visibly trembling against the armrests—a stark reminder that he had only just escaped a coma. Yet the atmosphere in the room remained completely subdued under his presence. "I don’t know how you gentlemen have been running this kingdom," he began, his eyes sweeping across the frozen councilors, "but moving forward, I am setting new ground rules. Anyone who makes Prince Basil uncomfortable in this kingdom will be eliminated. I don’t care about your rank, your title, or your family line. You will be removed."