The Queen Who Fights Back (by Lily Hastings) novel Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Waylon’s mind reeled, a surge of disbelief and frustration crashing over him as he grappled with the realization that he had never once considered a teenage girl could be so capable in such a perilous situation. His eyes widened, and for a long moment, no words came. Finally, he pressed his lips into a thin line, reluctantly conceding. “Fine. You can come along on the operation,” he said, his voice heavy with caution. “But it’s dangerous. You stay behind us and follow every order to the letter.”

Though Nova had already slipped his pistol from his holster without him noticing, his tone betrayed an undercurrent of mistrust. It was understandable—Waylon simply couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that a girl, especially one so young, could be an asset in a high-stakes mission. To him, Nova was at best a marginal addition, barely useful in the chaos that was sure to unfold.

Nova, unfazed, spun the pistol she’d taken from Waylon between her fingers with casual ease. Despite her obvious enthusiasm for firearms, she handed it back to him without hesitation.

Finn, a seasoned special forces operative, caught the weapon smoothly, his movements precise and practiced.

Ignoring Waylon’s warning, Nova turned her gaze to Jordan. “Is killing permitted during the operation?” she asked, her voice calm and steady.

The question hung in the air, jarring against the quiet tension. Even Jordan and his team—battle-hardened soldiers trained for lethal encounters—hesitated at the word “killing.” Yet this seemingly ordinary schoolgirl asked without a flicker of fear, as if she were inquiring about the weather.

Her question sent a shiver down the spines of Jordan, Waylon, and the others.

A sharp-featured team member answered crisply, “Lethal force is authorized if the targets resist violently or are armed.”

Nova lifted her chin slightly, acknowledging the rule. “Understood,” she said softly.

Though her voice was gentle, a faint, almost imperceptible spark of excitement flickered in her eyes—an unmistakable sign to anyone who knew her well that another wave of bloodshed was imminent.

Swiftly, Nova gathered her long hair into a high ponytail, the motion sharp and deliberate. The change made her appear more focused, more determined. Securing her hair was a ritual she never skipped before an operation—an essential step to avoid any distractions.

Just then, a voice broke the tense silence from the corner. “Jose just texted me. The timing’s perfect. Let’s move out.”

The team was gathered on the deserted outskirts of Ravenport, a forgotten cluster of buildings left to decay amid ongoing real estate disputes. The area was a wasteland of half-finished structures—foundations and skeletal frames left open to the elements and anyone daring enough to enter.

“What?” Waylon frowned, irritation flashing across his face. Before he could respond further, a rapid volley of sniper shots cracked through the air from above.

The team, all highly trained, reacted instantly, instinctively diving for cover.

Jordan shouted, “Snipers! We’re exposed! Take cover, now!”

They scrambled behind the nearest barricades. Out of the corner of his eye, Jordan saw Nova move with fluid grace, sidestepping the sniper fire as if it were a breeze.

Instead of ducking for cover, she stood her ground within the sniper’s optimal firing range, casually twirling the pistol she had taken from Jordan’s holster during the chaos.

Her head tilted slightly upward, a charming smile curved her rosy lips, and her eyes gleamed with the cold, calculating light of a predator ready to strike.

Then, she did something so unexpected, so audacious, that Jordan, Waylon, and the entire special forces team were left stunned—a moment none of them would ever forget.