Two weeks later

Maxon and I quickly settled into a routine, working out who was better at doing what, sharing the jobs we both hated. Maxon was a surprisingly good cook for someone who had never needed to do it – apparently it had been a pastime when he was younger and needed to stay out of the way for a while, but had kept it up when he could as he grew up.

We didn't leave the house much – there were still people searching the kingdom for Maxon, and since we still had a fair amount of money, we didn't need to think about getting a job just yet. We could easily manage for another few weeks, just to let the story die down a bit, before getting him a proper disguise that would let us both work. I went into town once a week to buy food, sticking to big shops and busy areas to stay mostly hidden.

That morning, I awoke to sunlight streaming through a gap in the white curtains. Glancing at the clock, I registered it was later than usual, but the bed was so warm and soft that I couldn't bring myself to care.

I shut my eyes again, nestling further into the sheets, but then I felt something brush against my cheekbone. My eyes fluttered open again to see Maxon gazing at me sleepily.

'Hi,' he said, brushing another kiss, feather-light, against my lips.

'Hey,' I murmured, running my hands over his broad shoulders. His lips left mine and started to trace a line down my neck, reaching my collarbone, then travelling back up again. I arched into him, heat brushing through me.

'We don't need to do anything just yet, do we?' he asked against my jaw.

'I can think of a few things that could keep my attention,' I said breathlessly. Maxon's responding grin was mischievous, but I barely caught a glimpse of it before he kissed me, hard, his hands wandering to my waist, then rolling us so I was on top of him, my still-brown hair streaming over both of us.

The feeling of him against me like this was still new, despite sharing a bed for over a fortnight. The planes of his body moving against mine, the caress of his hands… Everything in me wanted more, more, more.

Ring.

We both froze in surprise. We weren't expecting a call for another couple of days – Celeste had got into the habit of calling every few days, wanting not-so-subtle updates on our… situation, but she'd called yesterday. And she never called in the morning. Which meant that something was wrong – either with August, or with Celeste.

I rolled off the bed, eliciting a grunt from Maxon as my elbow dug into his side.

'Sorry,' I threw over my shoulder as I picked up my mobile. I pressed the Accept button, and instantly Celeste's panicking voice hit my ear.

'America! Something's gone wrong, you need to leave, they're coming to look for you!' Her voice was getting shriller by the second, speeding up, the words running into each other in her panic.

'Celeste, back up. What happened? Who's coming?' I shot Maxon a worried glance, then put Celeste on speakerphone so we could both listen.

'It's Philip. He told someone that you were here, and that you were heading to Miami.'

My stomach dropped. 'How did he know?'

'He must have heard us last night, and worked out why you seemed familiar. He probably guessed that if you were in Clermont with a fake name, Maxon would be with you too. He didn't say anything til this morning – I went for a run and heard him on the phone as I got back. I don't know who he told, but it can't be good.'

Maxon's eyebrows drew together in worry. 'If he told… whoever he told that we were staying with you, then you're in as much danger as we are. What are you going to do?'

Celeste's voice faltered. 'I – I didn't think about that. Oh god, what do I do?'

'We need to work out what we're going to do – where we'll go. But we can't stay here. We can come get you, if you want?' I offered, looking to Maxon for confirmation.

He nodded, then added, 'We'll call you in 20, okay? Think it over. We have another call to make.'

'Okay…' Celeste answered warily. The line cut off.

The phone blinked for a few seconds, then went dark. Neither of us said anything, both of us staring at nothing in horror, minds spinning at the implications of what Celeste had just told us.

Eventually, Maxon spoke. 'We need to call August. Ask what to do.'

I nodded mutely, passing over my phone for him to use.

As he dialled, there was only one thought in my mind, repeating on loop.

I thought we'd have longer.

I was shaken out of my thoughts as August's voice came through the phone, louder than I expected.

'Who is this? How did you get this number?'

'August, it's Maxon. I'm using America's phone. Listen, we've got a problem.'

'What? What happened?'

'We had to stop at one of the other Elite's houses on the way here, to stock up. Her… butler? I think? He worked out who America was, and guessed I was with her. Our friend heard him on the phone – we know he told someone, but we don't know who. We need to leave, but where do we go?'

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds. I could imagine August sucking on his teeth, running through different options and discarding them just as quickly.

'Actually… I think you should come back to Angeles. Not to return to the palace,' he added hurriedly, guessing correctly that Maxon was about to protest, 'but because I've heard some worrying things about the Southern Renegades in the last few days, and I would rather have you here, safe and protected, and hopefully involved, than on the run somewhere on the other side of the country.'

Maxon frowned, a deep crease appearing between his eyebrows.

'What's happening with the Southerners?' I asked, suddenly worried for Aspen.

'I can't tell you much. Just that the attacks are becoming more frequent. We have a mole fairly high up the chain of command – apparently something significant is coming. I don't know what it is, but we're starting to move certain pieces into place. And that includes you being in Angeles. So while I'm sorry you've been found, it's also quite convenient for us.'

Maxon and I exchanged a look. August could be really quite conniving, but he usually had good intentions. Maxon nodded, so I focused back on the phone. 'Alright. We'll head for Angeles. But first, we need to pick up our friend. If her butler gave us away, he'll have told them about us staying with her, which means she's in as much trouble as we are. She's coming with us.'

August sighed. 'Fine. But no more stops. You can't visit your family, America. I'll make sure they know you're safe, but you going to them will create a bigger risk than is worth taking.' Other voices filtered in through the background, indistinct but intense. 'I need to go. I'll see you soon. Keep me posted – call once a day until you get here. When you reach Fennley, I'll get someone to come meet you to take you to our base. Stay as discreet as you can. Good luck.' The line clicked off.

The next hour was spent packing – clothes, food, money, anything we could think of. I called Celeste to tell her to do the same. With any luck, we would reach Orlando by late afternoon, and would be able to pick her up and be halfway back to Tallahassee by the time night fell. August had texted us an address where we could stay overnight. I told Celeste to find somewhere recognisable but quiet a few blocks away from her house so that Philip wouldn't see us pulling up to take her away – keeping out of sight was our main priority now. Baseball caps and sunglasses were stashed in the glovebox of the car as a basic disguise for both of us. It wouldn't hold up to any great inspection, but it would at least make detection because of a simple glance less likely.

Twenty minutes later, we were on the road to Orlando, our little haven fading into the distance behind us.