Just Mercy Novel Novels & Stories

How can someone like me recognize something soft… something beautiful… when I’ve only ever known pain? I taught myself everything. How to read. How to write. How to survive. That’s why it’s so fucking hard to show mercy to anyone, because the world never showed mercy to me. I lit a cigarette, the flame flickering briefly before settling. My gaze dropped to the words inked across my knuckles. MERCY NONE. I don’t regret who I am now. If I had stucked being that helpless boy who wanted the world to love him, maybe I would’ve finally died.

More than anything, she was concerned about her friend. **** This book is sequel to the first book Innocence. You have to read the first book to know the story clearly. The first book "Innocence" is available here on my Goodnovel profile. And then comes the second book "Innocence || book 2". Thanks for reading. Please vote and comment :)

“But you chose mercy, and that choice freed you from hatred. You're not carrying that poison anymore.” I leaned into him, letting his solid presence ground me. “Is it really over?” “It's really over. Tom can never hurt you again.” We stayed on the floor for a long time, just holding each other. Eventually, I stopped crying, and my breathing returned to normal. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For what?” “For supporting my decision. I know you wanted him executed.” Christian kissed my forehead. “Your mercy doesn't make you weak, Sophie. It makes you extraordinary. I'm proud of you.”

To the way the body, when deprived long enough, began to simplify its needs. She was aware, dimly, of absence. The village had removed her from itself, with justification, with the quiet certainty that this was kindness. They had given her space. Silence. Time. They had called it mercy. Elizabeth closed her eyes. She understood now. Mercy, as they practiced it, was distance. And distance was how people convinced themselves they were not responsible for what followed. Outside, somewhere beyond the walls, the village slept. Inside, Elizabeth burned.

“Or maybe I’m just tired of pretending. Tired of clapping for her victories when I’ve always wanted what she had.” Conrad’s voice hardened. “So this was your grand plan? Drug her, humiliate her? You think that will erase who she is?” Mercy’s gaze rose to meet his. “No. But it will remind her she’s not untouchable. She’s not the golden girl she pretends to be. She’s flesh and bone. And bones break.” Conrad took a step closer, lowering his voice. “And what then? You think she’ll forgive you after this?”

I was betrayed, manipulated, tortured, and played by the people that I treasure, and here I am, ready to bring them back into my life. I know all of you may hate me, saying that they didn't deserve a chance, but I won't blame you. Everyone has a choice, and I'm choosing the one that I know I'll be happy with when time comes. --------- I wanted to portray Merchaiass as a real-life character. There are some people that have been betrayed by some of their loved ones and still accept them with all of their hearts. But, before that, they need to know and find themselves first before giving forgiveness. This is the time to say goodbye to my first ever novel. I'll see you in the next one. I know th

Only the baby growing between them. Forgiveness did not come easily. It never did. But it had begun. A small seed, planted in the cold stone floor of a prison cell, watered by tears and guarded by mercy. Ela did not know if it would grow. She did not know if Finnian would prove worthy of her trust. But she had made her choice. She had chosen mercy. And she would live with whatever came next.

Scared of what purging our lands of corruption would demand of them. I departed as their words clung to my back. I could have stayed to listen to their counsel, and perhaps I wanted to. But the memory of the yard spurred me forward. I owed my father justice, certainly, but more than that I owed him the knowledge someone remembered what he learned: that mercy in the absence of power is a feast for wolves with nastier teeth. I would push a knife into that foe's throat and say a silent prayer over the wreckage. It would be in payment, and it would be enough. Jennifer knocked on my door a couple of minutes later.

He didn’t stir. I had hated this man once. Not the hot, burning hate I carried for Sandra, but a quiet, bitter resentment. He had sat in council after council and nodded along while my sister painted me as unstable, ambitious, ungrateful. He had never once spoken up for me, never questioned her stories. Yet here I was, sponging sweat from his forehead, checking his pulse every twenty minutes, forcing sips of broth between his cracked lips when he drifted close enough to consciousness. Mercy wasn’t weakness, it was information, it was leverage. And mercy, right now, was the only thing keeping this old wolf breathing long enough to tell us what we needed.

She crossed her arms over her chest in a humph. “What are you doing here?” Jonathan asked. “I told you. I came to audition. This program – it sounds…exciting.” Mercy’s voice was high and tight, the way it always sounded when she was lying. She was hiding something, and Jonathan knew it. “Mercy,” he said softly. “Is everything okay? Back home I mean?” Mercy cast her eyes down to the floor and shook her head. “I just…I can’t stop thinking about him. Locked up in that cage. The black bracelet. He kept it all those years.”