The Queen Who Fights Back (by Lily Hastings) novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Meanwhile, Nova was already making her way deeper into the heart of Frostwave Bar.

Despite the earlier disturbance at the entrance, the commotion hadn’t seemed to ripple through the rest of the club. Inside, the atmosphere remained electric, the music pounding and the crowd undeterred.

Frostwave Bar was renowned as Ravenport’s hottest nightlife destination, boasting everything from thumping dance floors to secluded private booths, underground nightclubs, and hidden rooms tucked further inside. The incident at the door had only scared off a few patrons near the entrance; the rest of the venue buzzed with life as usual.

Nova took her time winding through the various sections, navigating past groups of revelers lost in the music and laughter. It took her a solid five minutes to reach the very back of the sprawling club.

There, standing guard at the entrance to the bar’s inner sanctum, were two burly men with rough, intimidating faces.

The taller of the two spotted Nova approaching and immediately frowned, waving her off with a sharp motion. “Hey, sweetheart, you’re in the wrong place. This isn’t for you. Turn around and head back,” he warned, his tone dismissive.

He clearly assumed she was just another lost girl wandering into a part of the club she didn’t belong.

But Nova’s expression hardened, shedding any trace of delicate innocence. Her eyes grew cold and resolute.

“I’m here to see your boss,” she stated clearly, her voice cutting through the noise with a sharp edge.

The two men exchanged surprised looks, caught completely off guard by her boldness.

The shorter thug snapped back gruffly, “What could a girl like you want with our boss? He’s not the kind of guy you just walk up to. Last chance—get out before this gets ugly.”

He rolled up his sleeves, clearly preparing to shove her out if she didn’t back down.

Nova’s voice was steady and unyielding. “Sorry about this,” she said, as if warning them of what was about to come.

The two thugs froze, confused and unsure what she meant.

In the next instant, Nova swung her left leg in a precise, swift arc, then snapped it back. Without hesitation, she followed with a powerful front kick, driving her right foot straight into the door behind them.

The impact sent both men flying backward, crashing hard against the door.

Their combined weight slammed into the flimsy barrier, tearing it off its hinges with a deafening crash.

Nova didn’t spare them a glance as she stepped over the fallen door and the sprawled thugs, striding confidently inside.

Beyond the shattered doorway lay a wide, bare room. In the far corner, a staircase led up to the second floor.

Around the space and on the stairs were several rough-looking men, lounging, smoking, and exchanging crude jokes. The air was thick with the smell of tobacco and trouble.

It was obvious these were the boss’s enforcers—the muscle hired to keep order in the club.

No doubt, the real action, the bar’s headquarters, awaited upstairs.

“God damn it! Someone’s trying to invade our turf! Get her, boys!” a thug near the stairs shouted, flicking his cigarette aside as he rallied the others to charge at Nova.

But Nova remained unfazed, glancing down coolly as the men stormed toward her.

Upstairs, in the Frostwave Bar’s headquarters, a quiet meeting room held a stark contrast to the chaos below.

At the head of the table sat a middle-aged man, lounging comfortably as if he owned the place—which, in fact, he did.

Victor Stone was in his forties, his right thumb adorned with a chunky gold ring. His face was otherwise plain, except for a massive X-shaped scar etched deep into his left cheek, giving him a menacing presence.

Victor was the undisputed ruler of Ravenport’s underworld, a shadow lord whom no one dared challenge.

He was a predator among predators, a nightmare for anyone involved in the city’s dark dealings.

Seated around him were key members of Frostwave Bar’s inner circle. This was no casual gathering—they were deep in a serious meeting.

Below, the sounds of fighting echoed through the floor—crashes and shouts punctuated by angry curses.

Victor and his men caught only fragments of the commotion, unable to make sense of the chaos unfolding downstairs.

“What the hell is going on down there?” Victor narrowed his eyes and shot a sharp glance at the man beside him.

None of them knew that Nova was the founder of the Crimson Web.

All they saw was the destruction she had wrought downstairs and the fierce confidence radiating from her.

One middle-aged man with a beer belly slammed his hand on the table, jumped to his feet, and barked, “Who the hell are you? You storm in here, trash our turf, and even spit out our boss’s name? You’ve got a death wish, girl!”

Before the man could finish, Victor grabbed his arm, silencing him.

Victor studied Nova carefully, as if trying to unravel a mystery. “Young lady, who are you? Why have you come looking for me?”

He assumed she might have a problem she wanted solved.

But seeing how she had taken down his entire crew and marched up here unscathed, he kept his composure, even adopting a slightly more cordial tone.

He was already considering how he might recruit such a formidable young woman.

Then, unexpectedly, Nova’s gaze sharpened, her stare icy and unwavering.

Right there in front of everyone, she spoke the code phrase in flawless Aurevian: “On crimson night, we’re connected.”

Victor’s mind reeled. He barely processed the words.

That was the highest-level code of the Crimson Web.

His body froze, every muscle tense.

His eyes widened as he stared at Nova like she was a ghost from his past.

“Wait… so her true identity, and the reason she’s here…” Victor’s thoughts spun wildly, trying to piece it all together.