The Mercenary Queen Strikes Back (Lily Hastings) novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hannah noticed the shock on Maxwell’s face.

AGE

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Maybe it was Nova’s sudden action that scared her, or maybe something Nova said got under her skin.

Hannah bit her lip, and for once, the pampered heiress didn’t push back.

Hannah stomped her foot and shouted, “Anyway, I’m never gonna forgive you.”

Then, unable to stay there any longer out of sheer embarrassment, she quickly wiped her tears away and dashed off.

“Hannie,” Maxwell called out.

Maxwell shot Nova a searching, conflicted look, his thoughts racing–then he spun around and hurried after

Hannah.

Charles and Fiona both looked shocked at how effortlessly Nova broke apart that move.

They locked eyes, knowing deep down that with all the years Nova had spent away, there was no way she’d had the chance to train with top martial arts instructors like Maxwell and Hannah.

They guessed that she must’ve just learned to fight back after being bullied for so long.

Neither of them believed Nova could’ve had any proper training–they just felt a huge sense of guilt for everything she’d been through.

Fiona took Nova’s hand once more, her words heavy with meaning.

She said, “Sweetie, Hannie is your older sister, but she’s still immature, and sometimes the things she says can really sting.

“Honestly, you’re the mature one. She’s the one who acts like the little sister. Sweetheart, so don’t take it to heart.”

Nova didn’t care one bit. She’d seen it all, and nothing could shock her.

In the international underground, there were all kinds of people gunning for her, and more than a few would throw a fortune at whoever could take her out.

Fiona was right about one thing–Hannah was Nova’s big sister by birth, but she’d been pampered her whole life, so really, she was the childish one.

Nova wasn’t about to waste energy arguing with someone who was, in her eyes, still basically a kid.

What really mattered to her was what Fiona and Charles thought.

“I don’t care,” Nova replied.

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Fiona let out a long sigh, relief flooding her heart.

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Charles and Fiona had already figured out how they wanted to make it up to Nova, so there was no need to talk it through again.

Fiona turned to Nova, her voice gentle and full of regret. “Nova, we deeply owe you so much. Please, let us try to make up for all the years we weren’t there.

“Whatever Max and Hannie have, we’ll make sure you get every single thing too.

“We’ll send you to Saint Laurel Royal Academy, right alongside Max and Hannie.”

Saint Laurel Royal Academy was one of the top elite schools in all of Ravenport.

Only kids from seriously wealthy or powerful families ever got in.

The Blake family was a genuine powerhouse–part of Ravenport’s Big Three, with a ridiculous amount of money and influence.

Together with the Morgan family and the Summers family, they ruled Ravenport as the “Big Three“.

Charles was actually one of the board directors at Saint Laurel Royal Academy.

Getting Nova enrolled at Saint Laurel Royal Academy was basically a word from Charles–he just had to say the word, and it was done.

“But…” Fiona muttered, worry clouding her features.

She said, “Max and Hannie told me those kids at Saint Laurel can be pretty wild. I’ve heard brawls break out almost every other day.

“It’s no wonder–self–defense is one of their main classes. They teach everything: taekwondo, kickboxing, free combat, boxing, and everything you name it.

“A lot of students there grew up in the dojo, just like Max and Hannie did.

“Some of those kids are so next–level. They could probably work as legit international bodyguards. Seriously, they’re scary–good.

“Nova, when you start at school, if you ever bump into one of those fighters, don’t try anything bold with them.

“You haven’t had all that training like Max and Hannie. If you run into trouble with those types, just play it smart and keep your head down. Otherwise, you’re asking to get thrashed.

“And hey, if things get messy, don’t hesitate–go find Max or Hannie right away. They’ll always have your back.”

Nova didn’t pay any attention to Fiona’s worries.

“School?‘ Nova mused, the word felt strangely unfamiliar.

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The whole idea was so fresh that she couldn’t stop herself from raising her eyebrows in surprise.

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She grew up starving in the slums, skin and bones, surviving off the leftovers tossed out by the wealthy. When hunger finally crushed the last bit of her innocence, she dove straight into the world of mercenaries, just for a shot at a full meal.

Everything she’d learned, every skill she had, was carved into her bones in real fights–life–or–death situations were her only teachers.

She’d slogged through the endless swamps, crossed the wastelands, and crawled over corpses on war–torn battlefields.

For 3,651 days, she lived like prey and predator both, teaching herself how to survive and thrive in a world ruled by blood and chaos.

Honestly, just going to school like a regular girl was a first for her.

Nova tilted her lips into that trademark sly grin of hers.

“Well, this should be interesting, she mused, already feeling a rush of curiosity and excitement.

************

A week later, it was the day Nova officially started her journey as a student at Saint Laurel Royal Academy.

After just a few days at Blake Villa, Nova fit right in.

Long before sunrise, she was already up and moving–jogging ten kilometers around the luxury park near Blake Villa, then hammering out a hundred pull–ups straight, barely breaking a sweat.

This wasn’t just a habit—it was survival. For more than a decade, every dawn began with this ruthless drill, a legacy of her years on the edge, prepping her body and mind for whatever hell might come next.

By 7:30 AM, after finishing her morning workout, she headed back to Blake Villa.

Maxwell and Hannah were already set to leave for school.

“Nova, you’re back from your run? Hurry up and get ready. You’re leaving for school soon,” Fiona called out.

She added, “Our driver called in sick this morning, so he won’t be able to drive you today. I’ve asked our

and get

ready.” neighbor’s driver to drop you off with their kids, so hurry up

Hannah was slipping on her shoes when she spotted Nova–her face twisted instantly. With a sharp kick, she banged the shoe cabinet.

“Talk about bad luck–having to see her first thing in the morning,” Hannah grumbled, throwing Nova a dirty look before strutting out.

“I’m off to school.” She tossed back over her shoulder.

Honestly, this little morning drama was just Hannah’s thing–she did it every day, and nobody even blinked

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anymore.

But Fiona quickly called out, stopping her in her tracks, “Wait, Hannie. It’s Nova’s first day, and she doesn’t have a ride. Plus, our driver’s sick. How about you take her with you? That way, we don’t have to bother the neighbors.”

Ever since they turned eighteen, Maxwell and Hannah had ditched the chauffeur and started driving themselves to school in their own flashy sports cars.

Nova had only been back for a week, so Fiona and Charles just assumed she didn’t know how to drive–no car for her yet.

And of course, today was the one day the driver called in sick, and Charles had already left for work early.

Figuring it was Nova’s first day and maybe this would be a good chance for the sisters to bond, Fiona decided to suggest it.

But Hannah shot back like a cat with its hackles up, her voice rising in protest. “No. I don’t have time for this, and my car’s not giving rides to outsiders. If you really want her to carpool, go ask Max.”

Everyone at Blake Villa knew Maxwell was totally nuts about his sports cars.

It was no exaggeration–he treated his private fleet of over a dozen supercars like rare treasures, and had a serious clean freak streak about them.

Not even Hannah, his pampered little sister, was allowed to get close to them.

So letting Nova, who’d only just turned up after years away, even think about getting in his prized car? Forget

1. it.

Silence fell over the room.

Nova leaned back with her arms crossed, smirking as she shot Maxwell a teasing look.

Everyone watched, waiting to see what Maxwell would do next.

Surprisingly, Maxwell nodded. “Fine. You can ride with me.”

Everyone–even Fiona and the servant–was so stunned by Maxwell’s words. They looked at him like he’d just lost his mind.

Hannah shot him a death glare, stomped her foot, let out a frustrated huff, and stormed off without even looking back.

*****

After breakfast, Nova followed Maxwell out to the garage.

Her usually reserved brother barely said a word as he scanned his impressive lineup of supercars, finally settling on a stylish charcoal–gray beast. With practiced ease, Maxwell slid behind the wheel and slowly backed it out.

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The car’s engine let out a deep, almost suppressed growl.

“A Lamborghini Reventón, huh?” Nova said, her voice dripping with casual amusement.

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She smirked, “Sweet choice. Only 21 of these beauties exist, and one’s sitting in a museum. Not bad for someone born with a silver spoon.”

Nova limbed right into the passenger seat, perfectly at ease.

Maxwell gaped at her. “You know so much about cars?”

Nova had shown up dripping in designer labels, with those insane fighting moves that totally threw him for a loop.

Still, Maxwell couldn’t shake the feeling that, underneath it all, life before she came back was nowhere near as perfect as she made it seem.

He thought that maybe Hannah was onto something–maybe Nova really had gone through hell or worse out there.

She was still just a skinny little girl, after all.

But Maxwell was totally floored–his skinny little sister, fresh from who–knows–where with zero high–society experience, actually knew all about cars.

And not just regular cars–she knew her stuff when it came to supercars.

“No way… Is she actually as obsessed with supercars as I am?‘ Maxwell thought, staring at her in disbelief.

“I know a little,” Nova replied, her voice cool and totally unfazed.

She said it with a careless air, lounging back and draping her neck over the seat like she owned it.

With that, she let the words hang in the air.

Suddenly, Nova cocked her head, raised an eyebrow, and a sly, almost mocking smile curled at her lips. Her next words hit Maxwell so hard he couldn’t even pretend to keep his cool–his jaw practically dropped.

She said, “Take your Lamborghini Reventón, for instance. It’s been tinkered with.

“Just by listening to the engine, I can tell you’ve swapped out some parts, opened up the throttle, and lightened the load on both the crankshaft and the connecting rods.

“This kind of upgrade punches up the raw power. It’s the go–to for real race cars. Which means you’re not just into cars—you’re actually a racer, right?”

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