"Out! Get out!" Yelled what seemed like he leader of the crew. His voice was strong and intimidating. It sounded so familiar. But I couldn't pinpoint where I had heard it. I gripped Maxon's hand. He gave it a quick squeeze then let go. Confused, I quickly grabbed it again. "America," he looked me in the eyes. I could see his fear. It wasn't easy to see, but it was there.

"I need to go talk to them."

My eyes widened. "No! Maxon, I know we've been fighting. But it doesn't' change the fact that I won't forgive myself if you went out there and got shot. It might be hard to see but, i don't want to lose you. I need you. Maxon, don't leave me. Please."

Halfway through my statement my eyes welled up with tears. Even though he could not physically see anything there, I knew he could feel me beginning to shake. As I felt warm tears stream down my cheeks, I realized that I was done fighting. I was done waiting. If he asked me, I would not stop to think. I would simply reply, "yes."

And that was the end of it. I wanted to be Maxon's alone. I needed to be his. If didn't know any better, he needed me just as much as I needed him. But, I couldn't feel these feelings if he was dead. I couldn't let him go. But what if he didn't go? Was letting him talk to the rebels dangerous or maybe a good thing? If they were Northerners, we could gain new trust.

Though my thinking process felt like hours, it only took a few pausing moments for me to know what to say, "I can't live without you. You know that, right?"

It was quiet enough to hear his hair skid against his tattered shirt as he nodded quietly and whispered into my ear, "I know. And I, you. But—"

I let his hand go and pressed my lips against his ear. "Go."

Maxon took my face into his hands. "America Singer, I love you." Shocked at what I'd just heard, I wasn't prepared for his lips to be harshly pressed against my own. I was startled for the first moment, but then feelings overcame me. I had felt them before, but I couldn't pinpoint when. With Aspen? No, it was a different feeling. A feeling of hope and absolute and utter love.

We kissed as if life had no end. But a hard bang on the door startled us into reality again.

"OUT!" The man shouted, getting angrier and more worrisome by the minute.

Maxon let me go and squeezed my hand. He opened the sliding door on the side of the enclosed van. As soon as the door opened, a pair of large hands grabbed Maxon out of the van forcefully, taking him by the front of his shirt, and from what I had heard, had smacked his back against the outside wall of the car.

"What are you thinking, you idiot!" The man shouted. I heard a loud SLAP! I squinted my eyes, racking my brain to remember who's voice it was. Then it clicked. I knew that voice all too well. It was the King.

He dropped Maxon, as I saw the slightest bit of his hair brush by the small opening of the door. "Get out, Singer! OUT!" I reluctantly climbed out of the vehicle, my head dropped, eyes wandering to find Maxon. I saw him on the ground holding his face in his hands. Clarkson had obviously hit him. I ran to him, cradling his head in my arms.

As I removed his hands from his face, I had to let out a small gasp. It was worse than I imagined. A red handprint was outlined on Maxon's left cheek. His nose was bleeding and blood was dripping onto Aspen's clothes, staining them a crimson red.

Anger pulsed throughout my whole body. I could feel it coursing through every cell in my blood. I stood, my fists balled up. "How dare you? That is the Prince! That is your SON!"

I was breathing heavily, as if the anger inside me was forcing air in and out of my lungs faster than usual.

Clarkson stomped up to me, his eyes for of spitefulness and pure evil, "And how dare you! I am your KING!" He grabbed my wrists and squeezed them, so his fingernails dug deep into my skin. I could feel a few of them pierce through. I bit my lip to keep myself from screaming out in pain as fire flooded through my wrists. I couldn't take it for more than a few seconds, "Stop! It hurts! Stop!" I yelled.

"Father, stop it! It was all my fault! Stop! STOP!" Maxon yelled from off the ground and he wiped his face on his sleeve. Clarkson let go of me and drew back his hand. I braced myself for the impact of his hand on my cheek. I closed my eyes. Let it come! Let him see I am strong!

It never came. I opened my eyes, and Maxon was on the ground still, but in a new position, as if he had been hit again. He was curled up, groaning, blood still flowing freely out his nose. I looked up. Clarkson had a look of disappointment in his eyes as he looked down at Maxon. I suddenly realised it. Maxon had jumped in front of me, and taken the hit. And though Clarkson didn't intend to hit Maxon again, he was still pleased with himself that he did.

As Maxon lay in agonizing pain on the ground, the King began to laugh. "Idiot. And you think this hurts. Just wait. I hope Miss America doesn't mind your back because it still has a long ways to go. Eight should be sufficient," he growled. Maxon groaned aloud. I was frozen. I couldn't believe what I had just seen. I wanted to go over to Maxon and cradle him in my arms again. I wanted to take away every ounce of pain he was in. But I couldn't. And that fact tortured me.

What did he mean, eight? I didn't mean to put any anger or hurt in my voice. It was pure curiosity that brought my mouth to open and begin to speak, "Eight, what?" I blinked my eyes. Maxon had groaned as he said it, so it couldn't have been good. Clarkson just grinned, savagely. His devil eyes met mine. He stared a me for a few moments, then dragged his eyes over to Maxon.

"That's none of your business." He growled. I took a deep breath. Though it was scary having him hear, the silence was starting to get a bit awkward. "Come with me, Miss Singer. We will arrive at the palace and you will pack up. You leave tomorrow morning," he looked down at Maxon, 'I'll deal with you later."

What. Just. Happened? My mind flashbacked to when I treated Maxon's back. I knew the King was harsh and beat Maxon. But, was he really mentally capable of doing this? Worry crept into my mind. If I was queen, would I have to allow this to happen to others? For justice? No. This wasn't right. He's the KING for goodness sake!

Clarkson grabbed my wrist, luckily not as hard this time, and pulled me into the van he arrived in. It was fairly large. The black outer parts shined even in the night-time moon. We didn't really get cars as Fives. We rarely had anywhere to go, anyway. I had never seen a car this fancy. Under different circumstances, I would be giddy with excite to ride in something like this. But, not now.

As the King pushed me into the car, I took a glance back at Maxon, still curled up on the ground. I was worried about myself, but I was more worried for Maxon. The King had just left him behind on the streets, alone and bleeding out. No other cars or people could see him. No one would recognize him. He might as well be laying there left to die.

I suddenly remembered I would be going home on the next morning. This might be my last time I would ever see Maxon. My eyes widened, and anger and adrenaline pulsated through my whole body. I elbowed Clarkson in the ribs, making him double over without breath for a few moments in shock.

I ran, through blurred vision from my tears, back to Maxon on the ground. I grabbed his hand and rested his bleeding head on my lap and in my arms. I squeezed his hand barely, jus so he would know I was there. The first hit wasn't too bad, but the second one must have hit him hard enough in just the right spot. His head had a small indent, just large enough to be Clarkson's ring. THe hit must have given him a concussion.

"I'm here, Maxon. I… I'm…..h-here…" I started to choke up with tears. Maxon squeezed my hand back. He opened his eyes into small slits, just wide enough to see me.

"America…. I won't let him. I won't let him kick you out. I promise. You're staying. I promise." His hand shook and he brought it up behind my head. He pulled me into his own face and his lips met mine.

I closed my eyes. Nothing in the world mattered anymore. It was just me and Maxon. Just us, there on the street. We lay there in the middle of the road, lips together and hands clasped tight. I would have sat there all day. I knew, in the moment, that I wouldn't mind being the princess. As long as I had Maxon, I would be okay. And I was ready. I was ready to marry him, to become his.

I felt a rough hand on the back of my shirt pull me backwards. As I stumbled back, Maxon sat up, looking a bit dizzy. He took my hand again. What was he thinking? If he stood up, Clarkson would surely hit him again!

I looked behind me, expecting to see a big, angry face of Clarkson. But it wasn't Clarkson. In fact, Clarkson was nowhere to be seen. It was a guard, who's face was hidden in the dark. I was one of Clarkson's guards, probably sent over to take me away. "Get away from me! You aren't taking me away! GO AWAY!" I yelled. I pulled my free arm back and swung at him. He dodged my blow, and grabbed my wrist.

"Lady America, stop!" He yelled at me. "No! Not until you let me go!" I countered back. I swung again, landing a hit straight on his nose. He stumbled backwards. I raised my hand again. He put his hand up to stop me, "America stop! It's me!"

I shook my head. I had no clue who this could be. But it was truly improper to call one of the Elite simply by their name without addressing them as a Lady. Who did this guard think he was? By this time, he was back on his feet, his sleeve a bit red from wiping his nose.

"Mer." he said to me. I shook my head again. There was no way this is who I thought it was. "Excuse me?"

"Mer, I'm sorry. I meant to tell you, but I thought…" I cut him short. I dropped Maxon's hand and ran to hug Aspen. I could feel my eyes start to fill with newly found tears. I hugged him for a while, but I only felt like a few seconds.

I let him go, and looked into his eyes. "Aspen, I thought you died. No, you did die." I was so overwhelmed with confusion, that I didn't see Aspen's eyes widen. "What? What is i-" I stopped short. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking behind me. At Maxon. I had just showed Maxon that this was Aspen.

Aspen took a step back, and lowered his head, "Your Majesty." He bowed.

Maxon took my hand, "America, is that- is that Aspen Ledger? Your former-"

I cut him short, my eyes not looking directly into his. "Yes. Maxon, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I wanted to, but I could never find the right time. But we don't have those feelings for each other anymore. We're just friends." I winced. Surely I was going home after this.

Maxon took my hands in his own, "No more secrets?"

I nodded, "No more secrets."

Maxon looked at me deeply. He took my head in his hands and kissed me again. When we parted, I immediately said, "I love you Maxon."

Maxon lifted his head. "You what?"

I smiled, "I said I love you. And I would be honored to be your princess if you want me to be."

Maxon looked at me, right into my eyes. "Well, then. America Singer. Will you do me the honor of being my wife? My beautiful princess?"

My eyes welled up again. Gosh. This was too much crying for one day. I looked him back into his gorgeous blue eyes. "Of course." He kissed me again. And again. And again.

He finally let me go and turned to Aspen, who looked super embarrassed. "Aspen, thank you for protecting my America. I owe you the world."

"Your welcome, sir. It was truly my pl-" Aspen froze mid sentence. His eyes widened. There was something, no someone behind us. I knew the breathing pattern all too well. It was Clarkson.

We both turned around. Clarkson grabbed Maxon by the front of his shirt lifting him an inch off the ground. "Get in the car. Now!" He yelled. He looked at me and Aspen. "All of you!" I beat him once, but it didn't mean I wanted to chance it again. Aspen picked me up and placed me in the car, like a real gentleman. Maxon followed closely behind and sat next to me. Aspen sat on the other side of me. I grasped both of their hands.

It smelled a little weird. A few minutes later, everything started to double. Then, I blacked out.