A/N

The Devil Wears Westwood: This chapter should satisfy your Didasko information, and Maxerica are still alive... :)

arabellaABrose: So glad you're enjoying this. Your compliments are so sweet! Hope you enjoy this chapter, too. :)

Totalbooknerd13: Seems that way. :)

MyWorld MyWords: Thank you. I appreciate it! :)

dumbfrogs123: Awww... very sweet. Thanks! :)

waterpolo3: Thanks-hope you like the next chapter, too. :)

jthornestudent: Thanks! :)

This chapter is a little shorter, but a lot is going on. So, it seems to be a good breaking off point. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading, whether you R/F/F or not. I appreciate it! Now, on with the story... -SJ :)

Kota stands quietly beside me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I don't shrug it off. My eyes give him the "thank you" that I can't speak. Not without breaking down. I look down at Calix, and he buries his head in my arms. His face is drawn, but there are no tears. Using a voice hard for anyone but him to hear, I reassure him by repeating, "It's okay. You're okay now. You were so brave."

He nods his head into my arm, and after only a minute or two stands and straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. I suddenly see Maxon in front of me. What it must have been like for him as a little boy. "Why don't you go check on your friends?" I direct him toward Ben and Everett, because Lucy is clinging to Marlee. Her girls look up with relief as Calix approaches, and they all move to make a circle on the floor together. Abrielle crawls into his lap, and Calix doesn't resist. Happy birthday to them. A quick scan of the room shows some of the tension broke when Calix arrived. It is like my exhale was collective. But no one is relaxed. The worst part of being in the safe room is the not knowing. We could be in here for another five minutes of five hours. Even after the destruction is over, the royal guard must clear the building. Before the safe rooms are released, clean up begins. Especially if there are deaths. I put my hands behind my back so that I won't wring them.

Georgia and Nicoletta stoically join Kota and me in the center of the room. We turn our backs to the majority of the crowd. I reassure Nicoletta that her body guard is most likely safe. What a night to give him off. Then, I direct my attention at Kota and ask the question I really don't want an answer to, "What did you see?"

He answers just as quietly as the question is asked, "Very little. I heard two shots a little after I realized that Calix was following me. We hid in the alcove until the hallway was clear enough to make our way back. All we saw were men with their heads covered, dressed in black from head to toe."

"Maxon?" My voice is steady.

"I didn't see anything, Ames. We were focused on getting back to the closest safe room."

"I understand." Georgia and Nicoletta link arms through mine, and I depend on their strength to keep my composure. The children are safe. I'm sure Maxon is, too. "Thank you, Kota. For helping Calix." Kota just nods in response, a pensive look on his face.

As we stand there, silently, we hear footfalls on the stairs approaching. I straighten and face the door. No signs of weakness. The keypad responds, but the door doesn't open. I hear a curse and someone tries again. Marlee and I share a look. We know the voice. And it doesn't belong here. "Get back from the door," I hiss. People scramble to do as I say, and huddle against the far wall behind me. Marlee is making sure my children can't see me. Georgia responds to my sudden change in demeanor and moves for her weapon. I can hear her struggling with her holster, so I slip my gun into my hand and stride towards the door. I have to be sure. I block out all thoughts except repelling the intruder. Kota follows.

I fill the doorway, because I will block him with my body if I have to. Didasko lunges for me, and manages to wrench me out into the stairway by my wrist, forcing me to drop my weapon. I hear Georgia screech behind me. She races for the door, gun finally drawn. I smack the keypad with my fist, triggering the emergency response that slams the door shut behind me. Even if he tries, the only way back in the room is with a key. His fingers press into my flesh. I am suddenly in a headlock, my back to his chest and my left armed pinned. I stiffen, and he breathes into my neck, "I've waited a long time for this my Queen. My America." The sneer as he says my name makes my spine shiver. "I was hoping for more of a struggle."

Stoically, I try to focus my breathing and think about what Georgia has been teaching me. Ignore his free hand running from my hip to my waist and back again. I clench my teeth. I can't let him take me anywhere. My arms are pinned, so I can't hit him in the gut or face. I only have one other option. He won't expect it—he has no idea I've been training. He's not a guerilla; he's just a second-rate politician playing rebel. If he was anything else, I'd already be dead.

I lift my knee and drive my foot into his left kneecap; he howls and loosens the hold on my neck as he crumples in pain. Pressing my advantage, I twist and drive my knee into his groin and push him with all my strength onto the floor. His head meets the concrete with a sickening thud. His gun drops as his hand hits the floor and I scramble to scoop it up, training it on his midsection. It is him or me. I hear running behind me and don't waste any more time, squeezing the trigger three times. I turn towards the running, pushing my back against the wall and setting my sight on the only entrance. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. My arms are steady, but sweat runs down my back making my dress stick to me. I don't move. Not even to brush stray hairs off my forehead.

The running stops, and Carter and August are framed in the entrance. That is when the shaking starts. I lower my arms and slide to my knees, covering my mouth with my left hand.