Just Mercy Novel Novels & Stories

Red welts marked where her nails had dug in—small, crescent-shaped, already darkening. I pressed my fingers over them gently. So this was what mercy looked like. Not kindness. Not forgiveness. Just pain delivered quietly—where no one else would ever see it. And Sebastian… He had believed her. Because she was smiling. And I was human. ---

" I said to her with all seriousness, it hurt to know I would be the one to pass judgement on my best friend whom I promise to protect whenever she is in danger. I tried to make a step out of the prison when I felt someone holding my legs around my ankle, I looked down to see Jessica crying and begging. " Please, don't do this to me, I beg of you to temper justice with mercy, please": Jessica cried. I squatted to her level, removing her hands from my ankle as I stared dagger at her " temper justice with mercy" is she kidding me or something. "You want mercy, yet you went about killing mercilessly under the command of alpha Jax"

And still, something inside me ignited. I sobbed. “Stop! Jeremiah!” He didn’t listen. And something inside me burned hotter than pain, far more superior than my sane thoughts. “You don’t deserve my mercy or my fucking cock. You only deserve to be punished and taught a lesson.” ____ A. Gupta

I listened to none of it as memories of their abuses flooded my mind, nearly traumatizing me again. “You will live, that I promise,” I said, turning away. “Not as family, but as servants. I’ll make you remember every day what you took from me when I was helpless—every detail, in vivid shades. Mercy was a privilege you never gave me, even when I pleaded for it many times.” Their screams followed me out, but I cared less. I didn’t look back, and I had no intention of doing so. “But mercy I will offer, and that mercy is keeping you all alive—because you would wish I had killed you all.”

Just nodded once, the kind of nod that comes when a man finally realises he's run out of excuses. Back in my office, I stood at the window, the city grey and slick with drizzle. Justice never feels clean. I'd seen enough justice in my life to know it always leaves someone bleeding, even when it's done right. You fool yourself into thinking it's clean, that truth is mercy, but there's no satisfaction in watching someone drown, even when they built the tide themselves. Dan had never helped Layla. He'd only taken what she offered, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but her strength holding up the life they shared.

A good man who sacrificed his own life like my brother did eighteen years ago. My men have gone over every inch of the building, checking for anything that could signal another attempt on our lives, especially bombs. The tension is palpable enough to make its presence known, and every man is on edge after the attack, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The elevator chimes and sharp screams of obscenities replace the uneasy quiet. I turn my attention to the office door, and Mercy is flanked by two of my men in the open doorway. She fights them like a tornado ripping a house apart. Her red hair is a tangled mess, and her torn yellow dress has a black stain on the front. They must've tossed her

“Give me the punishment. I’ll take it. Let me go to the bathroom. Please… please. Hic, please, hic, please.” I was begging. I didn’t want to defecate on the man’s hand. Earlier, I had barely managed to urinate in the corner of the room after holding it in. I didn’t want to do anything filthier. There was such a thing as human dignity. No matter how extreme the situation, I wanted to hold onto that at least. The man clicked his tongue as if it were a shame and pulled his hand out. Then he picked me up in one swoop.

Deshawn looked at me, snot-faced, wrecked, thirty-one years old and about to learn something permanent. "You're going to keep this hand," I told him, which made him sob with a horrible flood of relief that I let last exactly one second before I finished the sentence. "It just isn't going to work right again. And every time it aches when it rains, and it will, for the rest of your life, you're going to remember that you put it on a woman who belongs to me, and you're going to be grateful, because the men before you didn't keep their hands at all." I adjusted my grip, precise, clinical, finding the leverage the way my father never bothered to teach me and the streets taught me instead. "This i

Jacob nods and runs off, grabbing a slightly delirious and exhausted Hunter by the arm as they fall out of sight, swallowed by darkness. But Mercy is suddenly beside me, clutching the sleeve of my shirt. She swallows so hard I wonder if she’s trying to choke back a sob as she asks, “How is she?” She looks up at me with eyes identical to her father’s. She and Aviva look so different, but that look… that sheltered look that hides the mass of roiling, conflicting emotions, is the same. “She’s adjusting.”

“I don’t like myself very much right now. But I’m just trying to tell you that I tried. All these years, I tried to…to show mercy. “Mercy?” I hissed. “Do you know how many people have died in these games? Hell, I almost died. I still might. What kind of sick mercy is that?” He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. He sighed heavily and then averted his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked genuinely sorry. I didn’t care though. I would never, ever forgive Kalev Moren for any of this. “Calm,” Verity said. “He’s trying to help you.”