Can You Mercy In Mk1 Novels & Stories

"Give it back." He tore the protective charm off, threw it to the ground, and ground it under his heel. "What makes you think anyone would want this piece of trash? I wouldn't want it if Maisie hadn't given it to me." Grandma's kindness and blessings were trampled on just like that. A piece of the protective charm broke off, and the charm's surface was marked with deep scrapes. Anger, grief, and despair exploded within me all at once. I shoved Dash to the ground and punched him again and again until Maisie screamed for us to stop.

And we’re underground. Wrath stands outside the bars. He hasn’t left since Draven gave the order. Chain them. Or she walks. He chained us. He didn’t lock it. The key is in his boot. His jaw is locked too, grinding on duty versus loyalty, and I don’t envy him the math. “Mother,” he says. Low. Just for me. “You hear that?” I do. Boots. Multiple sets. Fast. Not Alpha tread. Mercy rounds the corner with six wolves. Her broken wrist is in a brace, her other hand holds a D.C. sedation kit. Black fluid. Military grade. The kind they use on ferals they can’t kill clean.