The Queen Who Fights Back (by Lily Hastings) novel Chapter 191

### A Symphony of Shadows by Evelyn Hart

#### Chapter 191

Nova had always known how to endure, but Marlic back then was a different story; she simply lacked the resilience that came with experience.

Five years had passed, yet the memory remained vivid. Marlie, her face a bright shade of crimson, lay sprawled across the very sofa where Nova now settled.

The same house, the same living room—unchanged, yet so much had shifted in the currents of their lives.

In her mind’s eye, Nova could still see Marlie, her cheeks flushed as if she had been scorched by flames, her soft skin like cotton candy, utterly exhausted and nearly crumpled against the cushions.

She was teetering on the brink of her limits, barely managing to keep herself together.

“Boss, are we really gonna die here?” Marlie’s voice trembled, the question escaping her lips with a mix of fear and disbelief. Now a stunning young woman, she looked at Nova with hazy eyes, yet the fierce trust that sparkled within them was something Nova would carry with her forever.

“I’m so sorry, I dragged you all into this mess,” Nova replied, her voice heavy with guilt.

Back in those days, she was not the composed leader she had become; she was still navigating the treacherous waters of leadership, struggling to find her footing and claw her way to the top.

Mistakes had littered her path, and many decisions she made had turned out to be catastrophic.

Like that one time, after meticulously checking the food for poison, she had urged her four most trusted teammates to partake in the dinner prepared at the training ground.

Ghost-Hammer, a mountain of a man, was wielding a ZB53 heavy machine gun, cutting down mercenaries who attempted to storm through the door, while Snowfang provided cover.

Snowfang, usually sharp and shrewd, had his face flushed a deep scarlet.

Neither of them possessed Nova’s tenacity; in their desperation, they shot themselves in the thighs—carefully avoiding nerves, arteries, and veins—just to maintain their composure.

“Boss, if this keeps up, Snowfang and I aren’t going to last much longer,” Ghost-Hammer gasped, his back pressed against the door, breath coming in labored gulps, sweat cascading down his forehead.

They were trapped, besieged by enemies closing in from both inside and outside.

To make matters worse, they had succumbed to the effects of the drug as well.

Outside, mercenaries had descended into madness—eyes wild, reason stripped away. The moment they caught sight of the two women inside, they charged like a horde of zombies, ravenous for flesh.

“Our only option now is to get two of us sober and have them guard the door,” Snowfang suggested, his voice steady despite the chaos.

“That’s our only chance to make it until morning.”

Those were Snowfang’s words at the time.

But reality was far more brutal than any of them could have anticipated.

The only way to break the drug’s hold was for them—people who considered each other family—to engage in an act that only lovers should share.

“I…” Marlie stuttered, her voice quivering with desperation.

She gripped Nova’s arm tightly, her small body tense with anxiety—Marlie was the kind of girl who would hurl herself into danger for Nova without a moment’s hesitation.

There was no way she would allow her boss to endure such humiliation.

“Boss, I really can’t take this anymore. Please, just let me…” Tears brimmed in Marlie’s eyes, her voice barely holding steady.

And in that moment…

There was a raw, desperate hunger for survival that pulsed between them.

In that time, Nova had kept her head bowed low, consumed by the weight of her failures.

Her family, the ones she cherished above all, continued to suffer under the cruelest torments that life could unleash—all because she felt too weak to shield them.

“Which one of you… will be with Marlie?” Ghost-Hammer’s voice was low and grave, almost a whisper.

Ghost-Hammer, always the stalwart protector of his family, would never cross that line with Marlie.

His question hung heavy in the air, directed at Snowfang and Falcony: which one of them would step up for Marlie?

A suffocating silence enveloped them, thick enough to shatter.

For the sake of survival, they had no choice.

Snowfang, ever the voice of reason, had always prioritized the team.

With an air of class and a hint of wildness, when no one else found their voice, he stepped forward.

“There’s no time to hesitate,” he asserted, determination lacing his words.

“If you guys can’t make a decision, then I’ll do it…” Snowfang declared, his voice heavy with resolve.

But just as he began to approach Marlie, Falcony—who had remained silent throughout—suddenly intervened.

With careful precision, he lifted Marlie from the sofa, his strong, well-defined arms making it look effortless.

Holding her close, Falcony carried Marlie into the other room, the tension in the air thick enough to suffocate.

Driven by the cruel hand of fate and an urgent need for survival, Falcony and Marlie crossed a line that no family ever should—their actions irrevocably altering the course of their lives within that tiny, suffocating room.

*****

Nova jolted back to the present, shaking off those haunting memories.

She had received a message from Yellowcat not long ago.

Yellowcat was holed up in Fierce Python’s room, so Nova felt a flicker of relief; she didn’t have to storm into Fierce Python’s camp to retrieve her.

Sham, Eder, and the other rookie Blood Dolls mercenaries huddled nearby, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

When Nova shared her news, they were rendered speechless.

It turned out their boss had already made an appearance at the International Mercenary Training Ground!

Everyone looked as if they had just been boiled alive—faces flushed bright red, panic etched across their features.

“They’re here,” Nova muttered, her eyes cold and piercing.

She sat on the sofa with an air of authority, exuding confidence as if she owned the place—like a queen on her throne.

With her left hand, she hefted the MK-48, her gaze fixed on the mercenaries who transformed into frenzied beasts the moment they spotted a woman inside.

“This year, we’re launching the 79th round of mercenary training at the grounds,” Lionel’s voice crackled through the speakers.

“Before we begin, I have gathered a few individuals eager to join the underworld.

“They hail from all corners of the globe—some from Machie, others from Eria, Zoria, Yoria…

“Whether they become your allies or mere dead weight is entirely up to you!”

Lionel’s sinister laughter echoed through the speakers.

From this moment forward, the 79th round of training at the grounds would differ greatly from the 74th round five years prior.

Nova remained silent.

She waited with bated breath.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Yellowcat, who had been missing throughout the night, pursuing a tall figure, sprinting after him as if on a mission.

Yellowcat was furious, her anger palpable.

Last night, Fierce Python had actually shot himself multiple times in the thigh and stomach, gritting his teeth and enduring the drug’s effects—just to avoid having to touch her.

‘Is he truly that desperate to avoid joining my boss’s crew?’ Yellowcat seethed.

“Hey! Wait!” Yellowcat shouted, her voice brimming with frustration.

“Hold up! I need to talk to you, hey!”

With her hands firmly planted on her hips, she chased after him.

The sun blazed overhead, a relentless inferno that ignited everyone’s nerves.

Time dragged on, stretching endlessly.

Finally, the so-called “new recruits” for the underworld that Lionel had mentioned appeared ahead.

Wide-eyed and bewildered, it was evident at a glance that they were fresh meat in the underworld.

Most of them likely had no clue about the rules of the game.

Nova narrowed her eyes, sizing up the newcomers with a sharp, contemplative gaze.

It was like looking back at her younger self—just another clueless rookie trying to navigate the treacherous waters of survival.

But then…

When she spotted a familiar face in the crowd, her heart raced with sudden recognition.

An icy, strikingly handsome man with razor-sharp features stood out among the rest.

He was the founder of the taekwondo club at Saint Laurel Royal Academy, who had left to study abroad.

One of the academy’s top three heartthrobs, always on the lookout for someone who could match his ideals—Zane Morgan, the guy she hadn’t seen in ages, was actually here, in the unforgiving underworld she had fought so hard to survive in.