A/N: Thank you for coming on this journey with me! I have never written for this series or these (much beloved to me!) characters before, so I hope I do them justice. We've always known that America Singer was a badass... I hope I can bring that further into the light in these chapters. Trigger warning for some violence and thematic moments. I will upgrade Rating if it calls for it later. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: America

Dear May,

I'm so pleased to hear you and Mom are loving the house. I hope the others have a chance to visit before we sell it. I can promise now that I will make it out there in time for us to play in the pool together and make a real mess of the place for the buyers.

I wish we could keep it, for your sake. Part of me wants that, even if just to have a piece of the prince with us forever. It was his last gift to me. To all of us. But it is much too close to the palace and to that life so far out of my reach now. It would not be appropriate to live so close as he and Lady Kriss plan their wedding.

Plus… I don't think I could bear it.

I will make our home here wonderful again, I swear it. The portrait you did of Daddy deserves a beautiful home to surround it.

I'll use my status as a Three to make you, Gerad, and mom the happiest Fives in Carolina.

If Aspen and Lucy happen by again, send them my love.

I love you most. Please give Mom and that brother of ours plenty of kisses from me,

America

I sighed as I put down the pen, glancing out my window into the backyard. A sad smile teased my lips at the sight of the old tree house, once my favorite place on earth. Had it really been that recently that Aspen and I had spent our stolen hours there, sneaking heated kisses and making plans for our life together? So much had changed. My world had changed… and my heart had changed.

I had been back in Carolina for a month now, and had spent most of that time in our home by myself. It was comforting somehow, after the final heartbreak at the palace. Small and cramped, perhaps. But warm. Safe. I felt protected; From the cameras, from the other girls, and from Maxon.

I couldn't bring myself to go back when my family had decided to use our gift from the Prince as a vacation home, since I had insisted on not keeping it. The money would serve my siblings and mother well. I knew he would not take the money himself if I were to offer it, that he would probably refuse any correspondence from me for the rest of my life.

He never sent word after that last day. I knew from Aspen that he had shown mercy and never said a word to anyone else about us, and that gift had allowed him to stay on at the Palace. I mentally thanked Maxon for that kindness every day. I know it was because he knew Aspen would be killed if our indiscretions had come to the light. Perhaps I would have been, too.

And it would have left Lucy devastated. I smiled as I thought of the sweet girl that had always been so kind to me during The Selection, becoming my friend more than a maid. I was grateful that Aspen, my first real love, had found someone to make him as happy as Maxon, however briefly, had made me. That he had found something real. And true.

For above all else, I knew what Maxon and I had shared had been just that. True love. Adult love. The kind of love women dream of and men fight for.

I knew what he felt for me had been real. That's why his heartbreak had made the end so final. The higher the climb, the harder the fall.

I pushed back from my desk and rubbed my eyes, refusing to let myself cry another tear over my lost life at the palace. I had to push that part of my existence to the back burner. I would allow myself the memories, but I couldn't hope for a future.

I turned off my lamp then, just as a gunshot rang out down the street. I leaned forward, peering out the window. Cruel laughter echoed off the dark windows of sleeping homes, and I jumped when something aflame was thrown through the front window next door.

Rebels. And definitely not our friends from the North.

I swore, knowing only my presence would have brought them here. I scrambled to find a robe to sling over my shoulders before remembering I was back at my house in Carolina; all of my finer clothes and night things had been left behind, except for the bracelet Maxon had bought for me while abroad with his father.

That would, now and forever, always belong on my wrist.

I jumped when I heard Mrs. Culver scream, the flames taking hold on their old home. I turned without further thought and flew barefoot down the stairs in my green sleep shorts and t-shirt, too cool for the 40 degree night, desperate to help the family next door. Mr. Culver was away at an art show, and I knew the pregnant woman wouldn't be able to save her older two without my help.

Sure that the rebels would be watching the front and back doors for my presence, counting on my call for citizens to fight them, I snuck into the garage and out the side door, half-hidden by overgrowth and vines. I swung myself over the low fence, hissing when I felt a bullet graze my arm.

Again. Perhaps lightning does strike twice.

Lowering my body, I crept along the side of the burning building, then craned to peek in the door. I spotted Mrs. Culver on the stairs, her face soaked with tears as she clutched her two boys close.

"Here!" I breathed, relieved she had been able to hear me above the crackling of the flames. Without hesitation, she dragged her sons to me, thanking me in hushed tones as she handed them out into the cold February air.

I helped her out next, praying that the rebels would have a hard time getting around the artist's mess and sculptures surrounding the Culver home.

"Quickly," I mumbled as the young mother hugged me, "Go. Run to the tree line, and then knock on doors, any doors until you get help. I'll be-"

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Maxon's spurned whore."

I spun around, coming face to face with a Southern rebel. He leered at me, gun swinging at his hip.

"Go! Now!" I turned and ran after Mrs. Culver as she half dragged her youngest son, the older boy keeping an impressive pace at his mother's side. We sprinted across the field that backed up to our homes.

A gunshot zinged past me, kicking up mud to my left. Another, to my right, so close I could feel its heat against my cheek. Another. And another. And Another.

Then one found its mark, lodging into my shoulder. I screamed from the searing pain and stumbled, but somehow, by some miracle, managed to stay on my feet.

The older Culver son tripped, falling to the dirt.

"Don't stop!" I screamed to his mother as she faltered and reached for him. "Quickly, honey." I urged the boy as I helped him up. "Get up." I panicked as I heard the rebel's footsteps gaining speed, hurtling toward us. As soon as the child's feet were under him, I pushed him towards his mother.

"RUN!" I screamed, "Run, and don't look back!" As the little boy charged towards the trees and grabbed his mother's outstretched hand, I turned.

I asked Maxon's people once to stand their ground and fight. Riddled with pain from the gunshot wound, and aware that I was welcoming my own end in order to save the small family now lost in the sanctuary of the forest, I turned to do the same.