I don't own The Selection.

i hope you guys like this :)

(also, there's been a slight change to the epilogue, but it should work!)

i love you all!

Five Months Later

July

Five months had flown by.

Between Kota and Mia's death, the twins' second birthday, and all of the chaos that had come with the news of yet another royal baby, I'd almost forgotten the best day of the year.

The day I'd finally gotten to call America Singer my wife.

Of course, that day had actually been exactly six years ago, but it still counted.

America walked into the room, wearing the most beautiful dress. It was a dark blue, which complimented not only her hair but her eyes and skin tone too. As always, Mary had outdone herself.

Six years of marriage to this wonderful creature.

Perhaps we'd make it to ten someday.

I took her hand and led her onto the dance floor, where the rest of the room joined us. We swayed back and forth, enjoying the warmth of each other's body.

It was more difficult to do, now that she was about twenty-seven weeks pregnant and all, but we managed. That seemed to be one of our best qualities. We always managed to get through the rough patches and find our ways back to each other. I wasn't sure that all marriages had that.

But I was starting to understand that America was more than my soulmate.

She was my queen, my wife, my best friend. I was sure that, even if the Selection had ended differently, we would've drifted back to each other someday.

"What are you thinking about?"

America's simple question brought me back to the present, and I kissed her softly.

"I was thinking about how lucky I am, America."

"Well, if you're lucky, then I've won the lottery five times over, Your Royal Husbandness."

"Good to know," I teased. "You look like an angel."

She frowned. "You always hold me to the highest standards. They're getting hard to live up to, Maxon Schreave."

I laughed, and she cuddled closer to me. The only thing keeping us apart right now was the baby inside of her uterus, but that hardly bothered me. That baby was a physical representation of our love for each other. How could I have a problem with that?

We'd chosen not to find out the gender of this baby. It would be a surprise. And hopefully a good one.

"Six years," she sighed. "That's a lot of years."

"I'm amazed you've put up with me for this long."

"Oh, trust me. It hasn't been easy. You are an absolute handful, Maxon Schreave. I applaud your mother."

"I'm not that bad,"

"I was joking," she said, slapping my chest playfully. "You are the angel in this relationship. I'm the grumpy old woman that hits kids with her cane."

I laughed. "Spot on, darling."

"You weren't supposed to agree!"

"In that case, I meant to say that you have our roles reserved. You are the angel."

"Better."

"I'm learning."

In celebration of our anniversary, we'd taken the kids to the gardens for a picnic.

Today, the weather in Angeles was splendid.

The sun was out, glowing amongst the bright blue sky, clouds spread out around it. There was no threat of rain or storms in the immediate future. The many trees and shrubs that lined the pathways of the gardens were a healthy green, all of their leaves flowing smoothly in the gentle gusts of wind.

America, the organizer of this lovely occasion, was spreading sunscreen onto Roman's bare chest. She claimed his tan skin was too delicate to not protect it.

"There you go, little love," America said, freeing Roman from her grasp. She sat down on the blanket with an exaggerated, "Umph."

Estelle put an arm out to help her. "You good?"

She grunted as she tried to get comfortable. "Yep. Just twenty-seven weeks pregnant. Thank you for your concerns."

I'd forgotten how much I'd missed pregnant America.

"And I'm as big as a house," America huffed. "I look more like I'm having twins now than I did when I was having twins! Stupid uterus."

"Mommy pretty," Avery said, adding her opinion to the conversation.

Estelle nodded. "Yes, Mom is gorgeous. Right, Rome? Dad?"

"Mommy pwetty." Roman said, nodding aggressively. "Very pwetty."

"You're the most stunning woman on Earth, my love." I said, kissing her softly. "Pregnancy looks beautiful on you."

She grinned. "Better."

It took us half an hour to finish eating most of the food, and then Estelle and the twins went to make themselves more flower crowns since their others had wilted. America crawled to sit between my legs, her head resting on my chest. I kissed the top of her head.

"I wasn't lying, love," I whispered. "You do look stunning."

"If you like extremely fat women, sure."

"You aren't fat."

"I've gained thirty pounds since I got pregnant! It's insane. I'm going to look—"

"Like a queen." I interrupted, and she pouted. "America, you'll never be fat. Not to me, anyways. Yes, perhaps you've gained weight, but it's keeping both you and our child healthy. This," I touched her stomach lightly. "is where you are growing a baby. Give yourself some credit."

She smirked. "I am pretty awesome, aren't I?"

"The awesomest," I amended and kissed her softly.

Over by the small patch of daisies, Estelle was still helping the twins make crowns out of flowers. From the looks of it, it seemed that Avery and Roman had wasted several flowers in their many attempts. Petals were fluttering to the ground around them.

"We made the right decision," she whispered.

I nodded and kissed her head again, enjoying the moment. The gardens had always been our favorite place, and now we had four children to share them with. If things went well, perhaps we'd have more kids to share with.

"I want to apologize in advance," America said, twisting around to look at me. "When I'm in labor, if I say anything rude, please don't listen. I'll always love you."

I kissed her. "Alright. I won't listen if you insult me horribly."

"You're the best."

"Thank you."

You broke your promise, and now I'm breaking mine.

Kota's little farewell message was something I wasn't willing to give up on. I was sure that there was something in this note. Something that could help us.

Or maybe I was desperate.

Maybe I was grasping for some sort of closure.

Either way, Kota was dead and I still had a group of murderous rebels to put an end to. The biggest problem was that we had no idea of where these rebels were located. Did they even have a base? I wouldn't know.

I was completely zoned out of the conversation my family was having.

I'd tried reading it backwards, upside down, and diagonally. None of them revealed anything. Truthfully, I hadn't expected it to, but my hope was still there.

America sighed. "Maxon, are you still—"

The note, which I was coincidentally holding over a lit candle, began to show something I'd never seen before. I didn't want it to burn, but it definitely said something. I kept it to the heat for just a second more.

"Does.. The Starry Night Campsite, 1400 Apple RD. mean anything to anyone?" I asked.

Gerad frowned. "That place is in Carolina. We used to go camping there when we had enough money coming in."

"And it's huge," Kenna said. "It could easily hold five hundred people."

May nodded. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?

"I got to rent a gun there once," Gerad said. "The owner guy taught me how to hunt."

"Is it hard to get to?" I asked.

America nodded. "It's like in the middle of the woods. I'd say it's a two hour drive, easily. And they always had these big tents we weren't allowed to go in."

"Didn't they hold food and weapons?" May asked.

This camp—

Oh, holy hell.

This was a rebel camp.

"Maxon?" America asked.

"Kota gave us the last Southern Rebel camp location," I said. "The storage for weapons and food, the space, and it's not easy to get to. It all adds up."

I looked back at the note.

From what I could see, another line of writing had been revealed. It read:

They screwed me over and now I'm returning the favor.

I was knocking at Stavros's office door in less than five minutes. He answered almost instantly, and dropped into a surprised bow at my presence. I handed him the note. After reading it, he looked back up at me, slightly confused.

"According to my family, that's a campsite large enough to hold hundreds of people," I said. "They have tents full of food and weapons."

"This wasn't there before,"

"It's some kind of invisible ink. I accidentally held it close to a candle."

"I'll have someone check it out immediately," he said. "Though, I'm not sure we have the kind of manpower to fight hundreds of trained soldiers right now."

I nodded. "I know someone who does. Tell me what they find?"

"Of course, sir."

I asked August and Georgia to meet me in my office, which they did.

"I need a favor," I said, wasting no time.

August crossed his legs. "What kind of favor?"

"We've found a location for the Southern Rebels. It's been confirmed that it's where all of them are. It's odd that they're all there, but apparently they are."

"That's awesome, Maxon." Georgia said. "What can we do?"

"My military doesn't have enough men, but—"

"But ours does," August said.

We rarely spoke of their leadership within the Northern Rebels. The group had been nothing but helpful to America and I since our crowning, and I was hoping that after all we'd tried to do for them, they'd be willing to help us out. We needed to put a stop to the Southerners.

"I need manpower, August." I said. "I'll provide the weapons if you could provide the soldiers."

"How many soldiers are we talking?"

"One hundred or more."

They both shared a glance.

Despite being my best friends, they had their own issues. I knew that. I knew that this was a lot to ask for, but it was for the good of the country. For the good of our people.

"I know it's a lot," I said. "And that's why I'll understand if your answer is no."

August rubbed his chin. "You'll provide the weapons?"

"All of them."

"You're sure you've found them?" Georgia asked.

To answer her question, I set down two photos we'd gotten from spies. In both was a large camp, probably large enough to hold just under five hundred people. I suspected that there were less, but I wasn't going to take the risk. At the moment, I had five hundred men willing to go. I was aiming for six hundred.

"I'm sure."

August nodded. "One hundred and fifty men, but they stay under my orders. You provide the weapons and food, and they'll fight."

"Of course."

He stood, and I did the same.

In one swift motion, we'd shook hands and he and Georgia were off to inform their soldiers of the news. I was over the moon. We'd gotten more soldiers than expected.

Perhaps this would be the last year we dealt with the Southerners.

Ever.

As we walked down the hallways to the hospital wing, I explained the situation to America, who had another ultrasound today.

August and Georgia had stuck to their side of the deal. They'd had their soldiers prepare themselves to face the rebels, and had sent half of them to the nearest base of mine.

"What if a civilian gets killed?"

"We can't warn them, America. Anyone could be a rebel. They'd send word to the camp and they'd evacuate."

"And you're okay with this?"

"It's either this or we lose the rebels again."

She nodded.

I understood why she was against putting innocent lives at risk, but I had no real choice. We'd spent years trying to find this camp. It was most likely the last one that still stood in Illéa. If we lost this opportunity, I'd never forgive myself.

We walked into the hospital wing and Dr. Ashlar immediately directed us to a private room.

This room was different from the last.

Cabinets lined one wall, and I could see medical supplies lining the insides of them. There was a kitchen sink beside that, which I assumed was for hygiene purposes. The walls were painted a gentle yellow and the floors were tiled.

Dr. Ashlar had us sit down, and like always, he let me rub the gel onto America's stomach.

I tried my best not to tickle her or hurt her, but it was always difficult not to. Almost every time I touched her, the baby would kick, making me jump. She was having a blast laughing at me.

"Alright," Dr. Ashlar said. "Are you ready?"

"Very ready." America said.

The screen flickered for a moment before the black was replaced with the picture of our blob baby. Their little body was bigger than last time. I could clearly pick out the feet and hands.

"Now, Your Majesty, have you been experiencing any odd symptoms?"

America shrugged. "Just the same as last time, but the cravings aren't as bad. My feet always hurt and I'm tired."

"Remember, ma'am, don't overdo it."

"Maxon won't let me," she huffed.

He smiled as he wrote the symptoms down. "You're about twenty-seven or twenty-eight weeks, so I'd say you have about two or three months left. I suppose you'd like a copy of the image?"

"Yes, please."

After he left to go get the images, America kissed my cheek. The baby was moving again on the screen. It was fascinating that my touch excited him or her so much.

Either that or the baby was actually trying to kick me due to hatred.

"All healthy," America said proudly. "See? I'm good at this."

"At what? Growing humans?"

"Yes."

"Then you're right," I said, taking her hand. "You are the best at growing little humans in your belly."

She beamed.

I had been right.

The Starry Night Campsite had turned out to be a rebel camp.

Most of my advisors seemed to think that it was the last one.

Over the last six years, we'd wiped out several camps. Now, looking back, some of the evidence we'd found at those pointed directly to this camp.

The fact that Kota was betraying these people was insane.

I mean, on his worst days, he did indeed strike me as someone who would betray hundreds of people just to better himself. That was the kind of person he'd been. Very selfish.

"Our men are infiltrating it now," August said, sitting down on the couch next to me. "Thank you."

"For what? You helped the most."

"Thank you for finding these morons. Illéa may have a much more hopeful future if this goes well." he said.

We had hours until we'd know how things had gone.

Our spies had informed us that no one in the camp knew anything about our plans to destroy it and the people in it, which raised the chances of success. If we could keep them clueless, this would be a total surprise.

Surprise was good.

No one expected to be murdered while safely hidden in the woods, did they?

"We make a good team," August laughed. "Even if it is when we team up to murder several hundred people."

I shrugged. "They've taken so many innocent lives that it's hard to call it murder."

"Justice, then?"

"Better."

Hours passed.

August and I sat in the same parlor for all of them, watching TV and talking and discussing more things we could work together on. I had to admit that he was right. We did, in fact, work well together.

Stavros entered the room with a smile on his face. "We've gotten word from the troops, Your Majesty."

He told us there was a meeting in the war room.

August and I walked to the room with him, which luckily, wasn't that long of a walk. Only a few doors down. When we entered, everyone silenced and stood at once.

Aspen, August, Stavros, and Carter were at the spots closest to me.

"Casualties?" I asked.

Aspen nodded. "Over four hundred, sir."

"Fifteen rebels were taken into custody," Greggs added. "All of them seem to have been important leaders within the camp."

"Were there any survivors that aren't in custody?"

Everyone shook their heads.

Good.

If we had all of the surviving rebels in custody, then we could use them to get information. From everything we knew, that had been all of the rebels in the country. Even if that was false, we still could make enough of a statement to put an end to this.

"And the camp?"

Carter handed me three photos. "The troops raided it and found nothing, so they burned it."

"Good," I said. The photos were proof of the camp's end. "You're absolutely there were no escapees?"

"Soldiers were on all sides of the woods, sir."

A maid entered the room and handed me a letter, which was sealed with wax. She bowed and left, leaving me with every head turned in my direction. I opened and read it quickly.

You win.

You win, but we didn't go down without a fight.

Let the monarchy burn in hell.

I passed it around the room, and then the meaning of this sunk in.

We'd won against the rebels.

I wasn't sure what the second half of the message meant, but the first half was worthy of one hell of a celebration. These rebels had been around since the time I'd been born, and I think I—with the help of many others—had just put an end to them.

This would, in fact, be the last year we dealt with them.