The Queen Who Fight Back Novels & Stories

She says with a small giggle. "You will stop second guessing your abilities to lead and you will rule right beside your mate. That is an order." She jokes with a hint of seriousness. I nod and smile up at her. She holds her hand out and a golden staff apears. I immediately bow down and she dubs me Queen of werewolves by tapping the staff on both of my shoulders. "I now dub thee Mackenzie Roseline Lathen as Queen of werewolves and Luna of the royal pack. Do you accept?" She asks and I look up at her.

But then, watching the same people over and over again gets boring overtime. Diving into the book, I reopen to one of my favorite parts of the lycan battles. It is the chapter where the lycan king was brought to his knees by the queen, and makes she him beg her for his life. He wasn’t expecting her, or that she would even do something like that. It is what makes me like it more. I feel like I relate to the queen well. She has always been undermined and underrated, then she wound her full potential and—

People like I'd been, once, in a black dress at a funeral, with a blood debt I'd never agreed to and no one in the entire world to explain my own rights to me. I'd won the fight, of course. I usually did now. That was the thing nobody warned you about loving the King of Atlanta: you had to be prepared to out-argue him roughly daily, and he liked it, the maddening man, he baited me into it on purpose because watching me win was, by his own flat admission, the second most attractive thing I did.

She was playing his game and rewriting the rules. And as she looked out over the city that had now become her battleground, something seared itself into her brain: she was ready. For her father, for Carla, for anyone who thought they could cross her. Because Victoria Giupere wasn't just a survivor. She was a queen. And queens don't give up.

The Queen staggered, her control faltering as the currents ripped through her precise flow, tearing at her focus and fracturing her rhythm. For a heartbeat, everything froze energy, light, shadow, and intent. Then the Queen lunged forward, eyes blazing fury, ready to reclaim dominance. But we had gained a foothold, a moment of leverage, and the spring pulsed in response to our claim, answering to us for the first time against her. The battle was far from over. The cave trembled, the spring roared, and the Queen’s fury burned hotter than ever. But for the first time, I knew we could fight her, that we could push back, and perhaps even win.

And when she laid out her plan—one that involved cutting off Lucrezia’s remaining safe zones, dismantling her funding network, and exposing her political puppets—no one argued. She was their queen now. Not by birthright. But by battle. By survival. By fire. And this queen? She wouldn’t burn. She would reign.

Esme fixed Silvia with a chilly gaze. Esme acted distant and withdrawn at first. She did not scream or show any other reaction when she was being beaten; in fact, she appeared to be a broken doll. But all of a sudden, she found that she had some strength. She desired to engage in an activity that she would not look back on with remorse. She did not want to be on the losing side at any point in her life, even if it were her final stage of life. She wanted to fight back. She knew there was nothing that could bring her back to her bubbly and energetic self, but at the very least, she didn't want her inner pride to be damaged.

Terry was sick of her attitude and continued, “No, Vivian! She was never wrong. She worked hard and gave the benefits and rewards from her efforts to people like me, who were less fortunate than her." "What did you do? You tried to rape him, and yes, as disgusting as it sounds, you did try to rape her husband. And for what? Petty high school grudge?" "She did not even retaliate for that - despite always having proof against you. You tried to hurt her daughter - an innocent 6-year-old. And she still did not do anything. Her retaliations were more like small pranks before. She only truly retaliated when you tried to harm Mr. Jacobsen and her old gardener.”

I straightened and started pushing her again, but she let out a loud cry. “No! Please, I beg you, Courtney! Please stop!” she cried even harder. “Stop?” I chuckled without humor. “You’re not thoroughly cleaned, Yolanda.” I pushed again, but she tried to push back against my force. She yelled in panic. “Don’t put my face back there!” I laughed, tugging at her and making her face turn to me, pressing my knee harder on her back so she wouldn’t fight much. “But that’s where you belong, right? You shit,” I looked her dead in the eye. “Go on, Yolanda. Fight back. That makes this more fun.”

“You feel that? That’s gravity. I made it stronger around you. I want you to fight. But not win.” Emma tried to stand. Her legs shook. Her hands felt weak. She looked at the queen. “You fight dirty,” Emma said. The queen smiled wider. “I fight smart.” Emma tried again. Her sword felt like a mountain in her hand. She lifted it as she tried to walk forward. Every step was painful and then her eyes blurred. The room spun in circles and she blinked. The queen moved..Emma swung but she missed. The queen hit her shoulder and Emma stumbled back.