Disclaimer: I own nothing. Seriously.

Sorry for the extremely long wait between posts, everyone, I've been suffering from a severe case of Writer's Block that seems to have dissipated for the time being. I hope this next chapter is up to par, it's been a while, and I'm a little out of practice...

On with the show!

The paramedics rolled up in the ambulance almost immediately after the call went out.

Good thing too, Jeb was really starting to look worse-for-the-wear.

And the moaning had stopped; I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that yet—I was pretty sure it was a bad sign.

The paramedics burst through the front door—what was left of it, anyways—and their jaws hit the floor. "What happened in here?" One of them gasped as they started attempted to extricate Jeb out from under the massive stainless-steel appliance.

Gazzy shuffled into the room, mouth slack, his blonde hair sticking up in tufts, mussed from sleeping. That kid can sleep through anything.

And apparently, so could Angel, who had yet to make an appearance.

As he surveyed the wrecked kitchen, Gazzy looked almost...disappointed.

"Aw man, I missed all the good stuff, urlchhh!" Gazzy was promptly sick when his eyes came to rest on Jeb's mangled form. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Someone decided to top off breakfast with a grenade." Iggy explained, having backed away from Jeb so the emergency personnel could examine him properly.

"Whoa!" Gazzy drawled for a moment, before realizing that an awestruck gasp was not the appropriate response in this situation. "Uh, I mean...that sucks." he finished weakly.

"Damn straight." Iggy replied.

Angel slouched into the kitchen next, smearing sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Max?" She wondered, still out-of-it. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure." I admitted. There was no point in lying to her, she'd just pick the real answer out of my mind anyway; even though I've told her on several occasions not to use her abilities on me or Fang.

"We were attacked." I said simply; I didn't really have anymore information to give her. "I don't know who by or what for. But, we're okay for now.

The sound of the police cars rolling up the driveway immediately put me on edge; I shifted closer to Fang. I did not want to hang around to be interrogated by the boys in blue, especially considering the reason they were here in the first place.

I glanced at Fang. "Minute bags?" I mouthed.

Minute bags were something Fang and I had developed after the debacle at Anne Walker's place in Virginia. Up until now, we never had a place to keep any 'Minute Bags" since we were constantly on the run.

Once we'd moved in with my mom, and it looked like things were going to be a little more permanent, We'd packed our minute bags—backpacks with a week's worth of clothing and supplies in case we needed to leave in a hurry.

Fang nodded.

I silently signaled the Flock and edged back my bedroom.

Ella helped Iggy with his things and we met back in the kitchen in thirty seconds just as the first officers were getting out of their squad cars..

I snatched a knife out of the holder by the stove and shoved it in my bag—I hate being weaponless—and moved for the back door, motioning for the flock to follow.

Even with my super-spy stealth skills, we couldn't evade the cops. These guys literally had all their bases covered; there was already an officer by the door.

I glanced at Fang as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something wasn't right.

Fang's almost-imperceptible nod told me that he felt it too, and it didn't take long to figure out what it was.

As one of the officers shut the back door to his car after retrieving a clipboard, I saw it.

I jerked by head to the window above the sink and sprinted for it; Fang was right on my heels as I smashed through it.

The last thing I had time to think before the chaos started was: Cops don't carry AK-47s.