The Queen Who Fights Back (by Lily Hastings) novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Ghost-Hammer’s voice rang out with a confident, almost boastful edge. Though his tone seemed blunt and rough around the edges, there was an underlying precision in his words. He was aware Nova was in Zoria and thoughtfully spoke to her in the local Zoriaien language, showing a level of respect and care that wasn’t immediately obvious.

At first glance, Ghost-Hammer appeared reckless and wild, but those who knew him understood there was more to him. After every battle, he would don an apron and cook meals for his fellow mercenaries, a small act of kindness in a brutal world.

Among all the mercenaries Nova had ever encountered—aside from the brother she had depended on in her childhood—Ghost-Hammer was the only one who had ever shown her genuine warmth.

Thinking of him brought a faint smile to Nova’s lips as she gave her address. “Ravenport, Morales, Zoria. Text me once you get here,” she said before ending the call.

As a mercenary, Nova was cautious about what she discussed over the phone. Sensitive topics were avoided to prevent leaving any trace that might attract police attention. This was also why Ghost-Hammer had kept the details of his “big discovery” vague during their conversation.

Those few cryptic words left Victor standing beside Nova, frozen in disbelief. He replayed the caller’s message in his mind: Ase Conflict, enemy forces, rocket launcher, battlefield… Terms he rarely encountered in his life.

Victor had once owned the Frostwave Bar in Ravenport, a small-time establishment far removed from the dangerous and complex world Nova inhabited. The sudden glimpse into her secret life left him stiff and overwhelmed, as though he had stumbled into a hidden world he had no business knowing about.

His limbs felt numb with fear, and after a long pause, he forced himself to lick his dry lips and muster a weak, bitter smile.

Nova held a high rank in Crimson Web, a network of powerful, international figures. Compared to her world, Victor’s struggles in Ravenport seemed insignificant.

He couldn’t help but think, I’ve really managed to latch onto someone powerful. That was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“What’s wrong?” Nova glanced at his tense expression, concern flickering in her eyes.

“N-nothing…” Victor stammered, beads of sweat forming at his temples. Though shaken inside, he dared not reveal his true feelings.

“I’m leaving now. I’ll contact you next week,” Nova said, turning away and stepping out of the Frostwave Bar’s headquarters.

Autumn was on the horizon. The days still held the lingering warmth of late summer, but the night air carried a sharp, cool bite.

Wrapped in a light jacket, Nova felt no chill as she walked.

She hadn’t forgotten her promise to heal Fiona’s injured leg, but the delay was necessary. She needed to find one particular person—a doctor with deadly expertise in poisons.

The reason she hadn’t reached out to this doctor yet was simple: he was a subordinate of Damien, her only rival and enemy. To contact the doctor, she had to go through Damien first.

The very thought of that formidable, unpredictable man brought a sharp headache.

Nova never acted impulsively. Knowing Damien’s strength surpassed hers, any negotiation had to be carefully planned. One wrong move could jeopardize not only herself but also Fiona’s chance at healing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ringing of her phone. She pulled it from her pocket and saw Jordan’s name flashing on the screen.

Jordan never called without a serious reason. This call meant the operation to capture the fugitives was about to begin.

“Nova, I need your help. Come to private room C19 at the Tidal Sing Club. My team and I are waiting there,” Jordan’s voice was direct and urgent.

Ten minutes later, Nova pushed open the door to the private room and found Jordan already inside, his face lighting up with surprise at her quick arrival.

“You’re here already!” he exclaimed.

While Jordan spoke, Nova scanned the unfamiliar faces in the room and gave a brief nod. “Hey.”

Jordan quickly filled her in. “We’ve got intel that the fugitives hiding at SLRA plan to make a move tonight. We want to catch them in the act and gather evidence. But we’re short on people, so I thought of you.”

Waylon snapped, pointing at Nova as he glared at Jordan. “Have you been at school so long your brain’s gone soft?”

“Sure, she’s the champion of a campus tournament, but how does that help us? We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t hold us back.”

“Let me ask you—has she ever held a gun? Does she know how to dodge bullets? I bet she’s never even seen a real weapon!”

Suddenly, the sharp sound of a pistol being chambered echoed through the room.

Everyone who had been looking down on Nova froze, their eyes snapping to her in unison.

Nova now held a Type 92 semi-automatic pistol, loaded and aimed directly at Waylon’s forehead.

“Bang,” she whispered, mimicking the gunshot with her lips, startling everyone. Her voice was icy cold. “You’re dead.”

Waylon jerked back, eyes widening as he recognized the pistol in her hand. He instinctively patted his holster—it was empty. His weapon was gone, and he hadn’t noticed a thing.

Stunned, Waylon thought, If Nova were an enemy, I’d already be dead.

Cold sweat drenched his back as he stared at her in terror.

“You… When did you…” he stammered.

Nova’s playful smirk vanished, replaced by a ruthless, piercing glare that shattered his arrogance.

“Hmph. You can’t even protect your own weapon. You’re the one who’ll hold us back.”