This is a continuation of last chapter! Hope y'all like it!

"Love. It's the most wonderful and terrible thing that can ever happen to you. You know that you've found something amazing, and you want to hold on to it forever; and every second after you have it, you fear the moment you might lose it. Love is beautiful fear." - The Elite, Kiera Cass

Four nights into our honeymoon, we were woken up at night by someone knocking urgently on our door. I groaned and threw a pillow over my head. We weren't supposed to be interrupted for any reason except for the world ending. Maxon let out a frustrated sigh and got up, putting on a pair of boxers and a shirt before answering. The pillow muffled out any other sound, I could just hear one of the guards reporting something to Maxon.

The door clicked shut and Maxon was suddenly standing over me, shaking me awake. I pulled my head out from under the pillow and looked up at him in the bleak dawn light. The clouds hanging over the ocean had not yet been burned off by the sun. "America, we have to go," he whispered to me, his voice a strange mix of gentleness and urgency.

I frowned and rubbed my eyes. "What's wrong?" I mumbled, or at least something close to that.

"The New Asians attacked our naval base in Whites. At least three hundred soldiers were killed and who knows how many more were injured. I'm sorry, but we have to get back," he said, putting a hand on my cheek.

My blood ran cold at his words. I felt numb, almost to the point of not feeling Maxon's touch at all. This was my fault. If I had warned someone about that note…"Have the New Asians said anything?" I asked, grabbing my suitcase and walking to the closet. As a second thought, I grabbed Maxon's suitcase so I could pack his things as well.

"I think the attack said enough." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. "Stavros, yes, email me those reports and contact all of the bases…yes, I heard that as well…tell the press that we have more important things to attend to at the moment. I mean, Jesus, we're not even back in the country yet…fine, schedule it then. You just have to tell them upfront that we may not have all of the answers to their questions…Thank you Stavros. Yes, tell them for me, thank you. I'll see you later."

I had Maxon's bag packed and he came over to zip it. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I really am sorry that our honeymoon had to be cut short. But at least we got a honeymoon."

"At least we had that," I responded quietly, watching Maxon walk out of our roomy closet in the bungalow. I hoisted my own bag up on to my shoulder and passed it off to Officer Scopes when I got to our car.

Maxon talked on the phone the whole way to the airport, his phone not leaving his hand until he left it with me so he could use the bathroom before we took off for nearly twelve hours. I settled into a comfy chair in the cabin, opening my briefcase filled with work that I needed to work on. Maxon came back on the plane and within the next ten minutes we were in the air.

He looked away from the window, running a hand through his hair. I had been watching him closely all morning and could see that he was seconds from completely losing it. There was something very scary but still enticing about his anger, like poisonous flowers. Finally he reached across the table between us and held my hand, rubbing his thumb over my hand. "I'm scared, America," he finally confessed.

I nodded, already knowing that he was scared. "We'll be okay, though."

"I just can't figure out why they did it. And especially with no warning. In all of my experience, countries at least threaten each other before they attack. Most of the time they're empty threats though," he ranted.

Guilt nawed at my stomach. It was my fault this was happening. I should have told Maxon right away about that letter. I should have been less selfish and given up my honeymoon so we could put a stop to this. It was so stupid of me to think that the New Asians wouldn't follow through with their threat.

The worst part was knowing that I had let everyone down. My father, who would have been so proud to see everything I had been doing for the country, would be ashamed of me for this. Aspen would probably never listen to a single order I give him again. And Maxon…would he ever be able to look at me the same way? How long had we been married and I had already made a mistake.

I had to tell Maxon, I knew that. I also knew that the longer I waited to tell him, the more upset he would be. Just like with Aspen. Exactly like with Aspen. But as I looked across the table at my husband and saw the way the corners of his eyes sagged in mourning for the men we had lost, I could not bring myself to tell him. I would tell him when the time was right. But not now.

We arrived at the palace as the sun was starting to set and Maxon and I were immediately absorbed into a group of advisers and guards who followed us all the way up to the third floor and straight into a meeting room. Information was being passed around so fast I wondered how Maxon was getting any of it; my head was spinning from information overload.

I jumped when a soft hand fell on my shoulder. I turned and saw Marlee standing behind me, a sad smile on her face. "Come with me, let's get you cleaned up." I didn't have energy left in me to refuse so I went along with her to my bedroom.

Seeing Maxon's belongings right at home there made me sad and only made my guilt worse. As I changed out of my cotton shorts and sweater and into my dress, Marlee picked up on my melancholy. "I know today's been rough, but there's more to whatever is going on in your head aside from this attack. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Could I tell Marlee? Not telling Maxon yet was bad enough but what if he heard that I told Marlee before him? That would surely be the end of the trust I had worked so hard to rebuild. "I don't think I can," I said quietly, following her into my bathroom. Mary was there and wore a somber expression on her face as she started brushing out my hair.

"Will you tell me if I guess?" Marlee asked, excusing Mary from the room.

"Only if you guess." I paused and it finally clicked. "Carter told you." She nodded, not meeting my eyes. "And you don't hate me right now?"

She shrugged. "I'm sure it'd be different if I knew someone who died in the attack. But as it is, I know that in the coming days you're going to need all of the friends you can get." She leaned down toward me and looked at me seriously. "America, you have to tell Maxon about this."

I shook my head, tears collecting in my eyes. "No, he'll hate me."

"First of all, Maxon will never hate you. Think of everything you two have been through; he's never hated you. That man went through a lot for you; I doubt there will ever be a day where he hates you. Second, no matter how he reacts, you will feel a lot better if you tell him. Lastly, he needs to know."

"I know. I know I need to tell him. It's just not that easy. Remember Aspen? He had to practically die in order to forgive me." Shivers went up my spine just thinking about it.

Marlee smiled sadly and nodded. "Yes, that's true. But he's still alive and you two are now happily married, more or less." She hesitated before saying, "You don't want this to get out before you tell him. People will start asking questions and you don't want him to find out about this through a third party instead of from you. That'll just make it worse." She patted my knee. "Now, take a few moments to collect yourself and then you can go down to the meeting."

Being alone only made my guilt worse. I splashed water on my face and straightened my dress, plastering a neutral expression on my face so that no one would suspect anything. I walked down to the meeting room and took my seat next to Maxon, unable to look him in the eye.

The meeting passed quickly, with Maxon and I furiously taking notes of all of the guards' and advisers' reports. By the end of it, my hand felt like it was about to fall off from the aching in my wrist. Stavros told us that the press conference was scheduled for the next morning at precisely nine o'clock. That was all I needed to hear to give me the motivation to tell Maxon that night.

So, on the fourth night of being husband and wife, I went to bed feeling like rocks had settled into my stomach. Maxon sat next to me in bed and rubbed his face with both hands, groaning loudly into them. "Today was definitely one of the longest days of my life," he sighed, reclining against the soft pillows in our bed. I sighed, looking straight ahead. He turned to me, doing just what I was hoping he wouldn't do. He took my hand and kissed the back of it. "I don't know what I'd do without you. You somehow make all of this more bearable."

It felt like an elephant had sat on me. Did he not feel it too? "Maxon, stop," I said quietly.

But he didn't listen. He leaned over and kissed me tenderly, sitting up on his knees so he could push me into the bed further. I felt his fingers brush against the skin of my thighs as he reached for the hem of my nightgown. My heart wanted more but my head was screaming at me to stop. I knew he needed this. He needed me.

Within minutes he was completely at the mercy of his desire and so was I. By then it was too late to stop it. Was it pleasurable? Yes. Was it one of the worst things I had even done in my life? Absolutely. Maxon fell asleep soon after but I was again left wide awake, alone with my thoughts and extremely guilty conscience.

I looked over at my beautiful husband, admiring his profile and reaching over to stroke his cheek. I whispered, "It was my fault." Somehow saying it out loud made me feel worse and better. Saying it out loud at least got it off my chest but at the same time it made it that much more real. It was out there. It was out there and I couldn't do anything about it.

The next morning Maxon and I woke up early to get ready for the press conference. He came to me as we were getting dressed and held up two ties. "Which tie?" he asked, holding them up to his crisp white shirt.

I turned to him, momentarily forgetting about my guilt. "The blue one," I told him, nodding to the one that matched my blue dress. He steppe up to my mirror and proceeded in tying it himself. I turned toward him, making the final adjustment to my songbird necklace so it sat just right. I held on to my rings as I started, "Maxon, I really need to tell you something…"

He faced me and nodded seriously. "I know, America."

That stopped me dead. He knew? "Really?"

"Yes. I know that you motivated James to contact Silvia and Stavros about possibly working here for us. I'll think about it, I just don't have the time right now." He walked out and picked up his folder, flipping through his papers one last time. "Are you ready?"

"No, Maxon, that wasn't…"

He smiled and put a hand on my shoulder. "You look beautiful today, Mrs. Schreave." He leaned down and pecked me on the lips and then pulled me out of the room. There were more guards in the hallway leading to the TV room, probably because security was amped up after the attack. I would never find the privacy to talk to Maxon.

Gavril was waiting for us and got us settled at the table we would be sitting behind. There was a dozen microphones sitting on the table in front of me and nerves settled into me like a swarm of bees. The press was all sitting in front of us, each from different news networks and magazines and newspapers. They talked to each other excitedly but quickly hushed as Gavril waved his hands to get everyone calmed down. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you very much for coming here, especially on such short notice. We know everyone has a lot of questions and our king and queen have been gracious enough to take the time to answer those questions. Just as a reminder, everything said in this room is on the record but that is only in this room. Everything said outside is off the record and cannot be printed or recorded. Clear? Good. Now, without further delay, the panel is open."

Cameras all around the room lit up and I started shaking. I looked across the room and saw Aspen, looking at him for the first time since I had gotten home. Fury burned behind his eyes and I knew that he was blaming me. I wasn't the only one who knew it was my fault. I had to look away before I started to cry. Maxon reached over to hold me hand discreetly under the table.

"King Maxon, what is the current death count?" a reporter demanded. I couldn't locate the source. I felt like I was in a fish bowl or part of a zoo attraction.

Maxon looked down at his papers and then looked at the sea of reporters. "We are up to four hundred and twenty-nine people dead, one hundred and twelve injured. Those numbers are including doctors, civilians and soldiers alike. We believe that there is up to three hundred soldiers dead."

And so the press conference proceeded. We were asked everything from how we expected this to effect the year's draft to if we felt that our soldiers should have had better bunkers to hide in. Finally, just as the hour was coming to an end and I had barely spoken a word, one question rose above all of the other questions being fired at us. "Is it true that you had advance warning of the attack?" Again, I tried to look for the source but was unsuccessful.

The room quieted at the question, everyone curious about what the answer would be. Maxon was obviously taken aback by the question but I was not surprised in the least. I was expecting this to happen. I knew that there was no way that the letter stayed a secret. But now I had a choice. We couldn't lie to the people. If we lied now and they found out later, there would be uprisings. We owed it to the families of the victims to be honest. If I told the truth, I would lose Maxon. If I lied, I would lose the people. And I knew that one of them was much more forgiving than the other. So, cutting off my husband who had opened his mouth to refute the question, I leaned forward into the mountain of microphones and said, "Yes, it's true. We received a written threat from the New Asians five days ago."

There were some grumbles among the reporters and then a woman up front asked, "And was there no action taken after receiving this threat?"

"We stationed more guards and soldiers at all bases and other government facilities but there was no way for us to know where they were going to attack," I told them. I found myself suddenly thankful for this sea of people because it kept me from having to look at Maxon which I knew would break my heart and my composure.

The room grew quiet. The reporters obviously were surprised by this news. Gavril cleared his throat and announced, "Well, time is almost up. We have time for one more question."

"Any plans for the future?"

Maxon was quiet beside me so I leaned forward again to answer. "This is not going to be left unanswered, we can say that. We just got home last night so we will need time to develop something but there will be some sort of retaliation."

Gavril signed everyone off and the reporters were slowly ushered out of the room. As they were filtering out, I still avoided looking at Maxon and said, "Maxon, I am so…"

"Don't talk," he snapped. "We're still on the record and you have said enough."

It was just like with Aspen but worse because I knew that I deserved it. I practically asked for this to happen. Maxon's temper was fearsome; he took after his father and I was dreading the conversation I knew we would be having in a matter of minutes. When all of the reporters were out, Aspen escorted us down the hallway to Maxon's office where he stood in the corner looking through some reports. Maxon walked right up to his desk, pressing his hands down on it and taking deep breaths. It was the calm before the storm.

Finally, with a resounding thud, he slammed his fist down on the desk. Marlee and Carter snuck through the door, lingering along the book shelves. "Can you all leave me alone with my wife, please?" Maxon asked in a dark voice.

I turned and looked at Marlee, pleading her to stay with my eyes but she shook her head sadly. We both knew that she had to leave. When the door shut I turned back to Maxon. This was the first time I could say that I was genuinely scared of Maxon. "When were you going to tell me?" he finally said, still not looking at me but at the wall in front of him.

"This morning. I tried but then you interrupted me…"

"I interrupted you?" he exclaimed, spinning to face me. His face was dark and stormy. "It's not that hard to say, 'Hey Maxon, by the way, I've been lying to you since our wedding night about how the New Asians have threatened to attack us.'" He shook his head. "I was a fool for thinking that you would change."

I shook my head. "I was scared to tell you, especially with what happened with Aspen. And I never thought they would attack us while we were away. You were asleep and I didn't want to upset you."

"You didn't want to upset me?" he repeated. "You didn't want to upset me so you lied to me again? You didn't upset me, I can assure you of that. You just proved to me again that I shouldn't trust you."

I head up a finger to stop him. "Hey, don't you try to pin this all on me. I know that there's tons of things you don't tell me. How about that death count that you didn't share with me until this morning? How about the extra draft you're issuing this fall that you've been planning for the past month and have conveniently forgotten to tell me?"

"Good thing I'm planning that draft because we're going to need it after the soldiers we lost thanks to you not thinking, again! America, you never think things through! When are you going to learn to use your head? How could you have had sex with me last night and these past four days when you've been lying to me the whole time? Did our honeymoon mean nothing to you?"

Tears gathered in my eyes when I knew that he wasn't going to take back anything he was saying. "I'm done with this conversation. I'm sorry." I apologized sadly one last time, walking out of his study with my head hung low.

The hallway outside was empty except for guards and, miraculously, Marlee. "You heard everything?" I asked her quietly.

She nodded her head and that was all it took. I ran to her and threw my arms around her, the tears I had been holding back for over twenty-four hours finally cascading through me. "C'mon, let's get you out of here," she told me, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me to the Princess Suite where she let me lay down on the now-bare bed. She curled up next to me on the bed and stayed there until I finally fell asleep.

Over the subsequent days, Maxon and I had settled into an uneasy routine that essentially consisted of avoiding each other at all costs. I had done things that were unforgivable. He had said things that were unforgivable. Neither of us was ready to forgive and forget. I moved all of my work to the Women's Room and slept in the Princess Suite. After about four days, the press got wind of our argument and it was printed in every magazine and on every news program within twenty-four hours. That only resulted in a phone call from my concerned mother where I forced myself to brush everything off and tell her that everything was just exaggerated. More lies.

About a week after the press conference, Maxon started seeking me out. I hid in the Women's Room while he would come and ask permission to come in every hour. I told my maids to not let him in my room. I knew I would have to face him eventually but I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to fix this.

Finally, after three days of desperate attempts to reach out to me, Maxon found me in a place where I couldn't run from him: my shower. I thought it was just one of my maids coming in to give me my dress for the day but then I heard Maxon clear his throat.

"I know you don't want to talk to me - you've made that much clear - but at least hear me out." He took a deep breath and I waited, staring at the clump of conditioner in my hair that I suddenly had forgotten how to use. "You don't have to forgive me. You can keep sleeping in here and spending all of your time away from me but I really need you back. I know that I said some terrible things to you and that's why I don't expect you to forgive me anytime soon. America, I meant it when I said that you make everything more bearable. I need you back. I need my best friend, my partner-in-crime. But, if you'll have me, I need my wife back. I don't deserve your forgiveness. We were both in the wrong but I should not have lashed out at you. You needed my support and I did not deliver. I am sorry."

His words wrapped themselves around me, warming me. I washed the clump of conditioner out of my hand and ran out of the shower into his open arms. It felt strange hugging him when he was fully-clothed and I didn't have a stitch of clothing on but I hoped to change that in the next few minutes. If not for my crying. "I'm so sorry," I sobbed into his shoulder.

He nodded, his chin brushing the top of my head. "I told you that I'm terrible at staying away from you."

"I believe it." I leaned up to kiss him. "Can you ever forgive…?"

"Already forgiven. With a whole heart and boundless love, you are forgiven."

Told y'all I would be updating this later tonight! The next chapter is jumping ahead a few months but still follows the same storyline.

1.) Guest: I get my quotes from Pinterest (which is my shameless addiction)

2.) ThisGirlActuallyReads: You sure do read! Yes, it is Zoella the Youtuber and yes America has a tattoo! She got it by accident during her bachelorette weekend. It's a tiny crown on her hip. I was writing that chapter but it just wasn't coming out the way I wanted it to and I really wanted to get all of this out of the way first! Maybe if I have the time I will finish and upload it. :)

Sorry it took some time to answer those comments; I'm still on vacation so I haven't had much time for uploading and such, especially since I'm trying to just finish uploading Taking the One. anyways, thanks so much for reading!