Novel & Cerita Chapter 7 Just Mercy

I just needed to kneel here. It hurt so much. On my knees, there were still bloody holes made by those kidnappers with thin steel needles. They blamed me for not getting money. To Jeffrey, I was nothing. They took it out on me to vent their anger. I couldn't stand up and simply sat on my knees in that small space. Jeffrey got angered, "What are you doing? Go back to your seat!" He ordered me, but he didn't bother to help me. I listened to his words. I used all my strength to hold my body up and sit back down. My tears fell due to the pain and weakness.

“I wouldn’t mind the company” Hardin smiled then. “Great” He glanced down at the book in his hand then opened it. It took about two minutes to go from admiring Hardin to recognizing the book with him. Too late he was reading it, reading her failure of a prologue. “Wow this is nice and different” Hardin finally said looking up. She raised a brow at him doubtfully. “Nothing like your usual but it’s great, giving some tragic ending vibes though” “Is it that obvious?”

MIRA Pale light filters through the curtains, touching the edge of the world like a blessing. Jackson sleeps beside me, one arm stretched where I had been. His brow is creased, even in rest. He carries the war into his dreams too. But something in me is different. Quieter, and settled. Seeing everyone happy gives me hope. I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of my decision lock into place like a final puzzle piece. This doesn’t end with guns. It ends with mercy, it ends with truth, It ends with me. I won’t let this story devour another generation. I won’t let Nora grow up haunted by ghosts she never created.

Order above all. Yet as I watched them prepare, memory surfaced uninvited... A burning village. Bodies everywhere. An alpha who believed compassion made him strong had opened his borders. By dawn, his pack was gone. Mercy killed them faster than any enemy. I learned what the world keeps trying to forget: Kindness without structure is slaughter. “Elara,” I murmured to the wind. “You think you are freeing them.” But freedom is only beautiful from a distance. Up close… it looks like panic.

I will make whoever made this pay for ending someone's life that he has even no rights to do so. "Franklin Weston," I whispered with gritted teeth as I stared at a certain person who is being held by two cops on his both arms with a handcuff locked on his both wrist. Daniel seemed to notice since he diverted his eyes on me, but I didn't waist much time anymore. Despite of your family sitting just next to me to the line of monoblock chairs here against the wall just across the table of the cops, I immediately stood up and ran to the man. "Damn you, asshole! How dare you kill someone like him! He don't deserve it, you freaking asshole! Damn your mind freaking needs to rob someone's house and

Traitors Do something. Say something. They were waiting for me. I swallowed and set my jaw. “I will decide soon… when I am ready.” Elder Abram cleared his throat. “Justice cannot wait.” he said looking away. I narrowed my eyes at him. The audacity to talk. I nodded.I don’t answer. Because I don’t know what justice looks like anymore. I just can't…can't… Even thinking about it felt like I was doing some heinous crime. And for the first time in forever, I am new to an emotion called pity. Mercy. Empathy. So this is what it feels like?

I picked up a flat piece of rusted iron hoop—sharp, rough, and stained with orange decay—and touched it to the cold, frost-hardened silt on the flagstones, carving Chapter 183 into the dirt: They do not come for your freedom in a single, dramatic blow. They take it in small, reasonable installments—a tax here, a permit there, a stolen hour, a confiscated lamp—until you are stripped so bare that survival takes every drop of your courage, and there is none left for truth. Chapter 183 is the ledger of small losses: the warning that if you do not draw the line at the first inch, you will lose the whole world mile by mile. Julian dropped his tiny canvas squares into a wooden box, his thumbs raw a

Sweet Jesus have mercy on me. I can't tell you what those seven years were like. Between the time when the police come round my house to tell me that my boy'd been arrested to when they called me to tell me that a date was set for the execution. It felt like every day I got broken again. Every time I woke up, it was like I was learnin' it again for the first time. Wasn't a single day in seven years that I didn't cry. That's the truth. But it wasn't always from sadness. Lots of times, I was crying from anger. Anger at my boy's daddy, angry at my parents for dying before I got pregnant, angry at the police, angry at that other boy, angry at the judge, the jury, and the law. And angry at Tyler

“Today it doesn’t.” “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but–” “You don’t,” she says, and there is no cruelty in it, which makes it worse. “You don’t deserve it. Because in your selfish quest for street justice, you allowed my eleven-year-old brother to be dragged into a warehouse and tied to a fucking chair. That boy looks up to you more than anyone in his life, and he had to eat stale burgers off a dirty floor wondering what he did wrong, and he is going to carry that for the rest of his life.”

“My sister stayed at a shelter like that. Ten years ago. After her husband put her in the hospital. If someone like you had done that then, maybe she wouldn’t have had to go back to him twice before she could leave for good.” Elena: “Mercer—” Mercer: “That’s why you’ll win,” he said simply. “Not because of the stocks or the lawyers or the court. Because you’re the only one in this whole mess who remembers what it’s like to have nothing, and you’re doing something about it while everyone else is playing chess with buildings.” Elena looked at him for a long time. Then she looked back out the window. “Don’t tell anyone.” Mercer: “No, ma’am.”