The Queen Who Fights Back (by Lily Hastings) novel Chapter 185

**A Symphony of Shadows by Evelyn Hart**

**Chapter 185**

In the end, Mr. Powell’s hands settled firmly on Mrs. Powell’s shoulders, a silent yet resolute barrier against her instinct to pull Nova back any further into the fold of their family.

“Not worthy to go home?” Nova’s mind echoed the thought, a bitter taste lingering on her tongue.

“Maybe I’m not,” she murmured under her breath, the weight of her own words pressing heavily upon her chest.

Since her harrowing escape from Devil’s Isle, Nova had been acutely aware of the burden she bore. It was a burden that could easily place those she loved in peril. The hunger for family, for connection, had clouded her judgment, even if only for a fleeting moment.

She had allowed herself to be swept away, to act like just another schoolgirl in Zoria, indulging in the warmth of her parents’ affection. It was a moment of reckless abandon, one that had led her to forget the cardinal rule of her mercenary life:

Never let emotions cloud your judgment.

“I’m sorry,” Nova whispered, her voice barely audible, the words hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

Her once-bright eyes dimmed, shrouded in a veil of sorrow, reflecting the turmoil within her heart.

Her apology extended beyond Mrs. Powell; it reached back to her own parents—Charles and Fiona Blake.

She had made a grave rookie mistake, one that had endangered everyone who held a place in her heart.

“Never again,” she vowed softly, the words resonating with a solemnity that filled the space around her.

This would be the last time she would allow herself to be swayed by her emotions. She had resolved to leave, to break free from the chains that bound her to this place.

“Please, look after her,” Nova implored Mrs. Powell, her voice laced with a bittersweet urgency.

Her thoughts were of Yoro, the innocent child who deserved protection from the chaos that surrounded them.

Mrs. Powell was right; if she lingered here any longer, she could very well become the catalyst for tragedy—Charles, Fiona, Hannah, or Maxwell could all suffer because of her presence.

All of them could be dragged into the storm that was her life.

Leaving was the only course that made sense. In truth, she had never should have returned.

In that moment, as she gazed back at her parents, her eyes lacked their usual sparkle, as if she were bidding a final farewell.

“Dad, Mom, thank you for taking care of me these days,” Nova said quietly, her voice thick with emotion.

After uttering those heartfelt words, she refused to look back.

With determination, she turned and strode toward the hospital entrance, her heart pounding but her resolve unshaken.

“Nova… Nova, what on earth are you talking about?” Fiona’s voice broke through the haze of the moment, filled with alarm and confusion.

“Why are you thanking us? Your dad and I—of course, we’ll always look after you; that’s what parents do!”

“Nova, where are you going?!” Fiona cried out, her voice quivering as panic surged within her.

‘No, something’s not right—she’s leaving,’ Fiona thought, her heart racing as she gripped the wheels of her wheelchair tightly, spinning them with frantic urgency in a desperate attempt to follow.

“Aria will heal your leg, Mom. You don’t have to worry,” Nova assured her, though her voice carried a hint of sorrow that lingered in the air.

She paused, casting one last lingering look at Fiona and Charles, as if she wished to etch their faces into her memory forever.

“As for me…” Nova began, a wry smile curling her lips, a smile that held the weight of bittersweet irony.

“I’m just returning to the world I’ve always belonged to,” she said softly, her words barely above a whisper.

“The world Nova says she belongs to?” Fiona’s heart skipped a beat, confusion and worry swirling in her mind.

What kind of place is that? What does she mean? Fiona’s unease deepened, gnawing at her insides.

Mrs. Powell had never anticipated that her own words would serve as the catalyst for Nova’s departure.

Inside, she felt torn apart, but each time she thought of her beloved daughter lying there—silent and unresponsive—the pain became almost unbearable.

Tears welled in Mrs. Powell’s eyes as she turned away, unable to witness the heart-wrenching scene any longer.

“Nova… Nova!” Fiona called out, her voice trembling with panic as she watched her daughter walk away, slipping further from her grasp.

“Charles, hurry! Bring her back! Nova!” Fiona shouted, desperation spilling over in her frantic cries.

Charles bolted after Nova, with Fiona racing behind him in her wheelchair, her movements a blend of frantic determination and fear.

But once they burst into the crowded street outside the hospital, Nova’s figure had already disappeared, leaving no trace behind.

*****

Nova had vanished.

It was more than just her absence; it felt as though she had dissolved into thin air, as if she had never set foot in Zoria at all.

Just when the Blake family had finally begun to taste a semblance of peace, Nova’s departure swept it all away, plunging their home back into a shroud of gloom.

Time slipped by swiftly, and in what felt like the blink of an eye, three months had passed.

Winter break had arrived.

The New Year had dawned.

Yet within the walls of Blake Manor, the remaining four Blakes found it impossible to summon even a hint of holiday cheer.

During dinner, Charles rushed in from outside, his phone still clutched tightly in his hand. Fiona could hardly contain herself, her voice laced with anxious hope as she pressed him, “Did you find any news about Nova?”

“Boss, did Rogue give the green light?” the doll-faced woman whispered, her tone low enough to evade the ears of those nearby.

Rogue was the puppet master of this realm, his name alone enough to send shivers down the spines of even the most hardened hustlers. He was the undisputed kingpin—the mastermind behind every illicit deal and every dark enterprise in town. Nothing was too twisted, too brutal, or too ruthless for him.

Today, Nova had come to negotiate a deal face-to-face.

“He agreed to collaborate with us behind the scenes, but he demands a forty percent cut of the arms trade,” Nova replied quietly. It wasn’t cheap, but it was a price better than a bullet.

In the past three months, Nova had not been idle.

While others floundered in panic, she remained composed, unfazed by the chaos surrounding her.

She had established a new mercenary group within the international underworld—the Blood Doll Corps.

Moments ago, adopting a new persona and answering to the codename Blood Reaper, she had sat down with the black market kingpin to finalize an arms deal.

“Sure thing. I’ll go inform the others,” Yellowcat nodded, pulling her cap lower to obscure her face as she slipped away in the opposite direction.

Nova made her way back to her temporary lodgings, her expression calm and unreadable, revealing nothing of the negotiations she had just completed.

It was a small, unremarkable motel—simple and clean, the kind of place that would never draw a second glance from passersby.

But just outside her room, she encountered an acquaintance she hadn’t seen in ages.

It was Damien Thorn.

After leaving behind Zoria, the Blake family, and every remnant of her former life, Damien had come searching for her, refusing to let her fade into the darkness without a trace.

His unexpected arrival ignited a flicker of warmth within her, a sensation she feared she had lost forever—a fleeting glow, like a distant beacon of humanity shimmering in the depths of despair.

It was the kind of warmth that only those swallowed by darkness could truly share.

As she gazed at Damien, with his impossibly handsome face, high-bridged nose, flawless skin, and tousled black hair, an outrageous urge welled within her—why did she suddenly want to tease this perfect man?

‘Seriously, with genes like his, having a child together wouldn’t be a loss at all,’ Nova mused, half-amused by her own thoughts.

She had never been one to overthink things—when she wanted something, she pursued it with boldness and reckless abandon.

Back in Zoria, she had always suppressed her own desires, prioritizing her family and those around her over herself.

But now…

With a newfound determination, Nova strode right up to Damien, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him straight into the pristine room.

She pushed him down onto the only bed, pinning him beneath her, her heart racing with exhilaration.

Nova’s lips brushed against Damien’s ear, her breath warm and lingering as she whispered, her voice playful yet sultry, “I want to change the mood—and I want you, now.”