Just Mercy Novel Novels & Stories

The fire burned low as the hours passed, and the room grew dark, and the door did not open, and no one came, no guards and no nobles and no king, just me alone in the darkness waiting for something I could not name. I did not know if this was mercy or cruelty, because mercy was a word I had learned to distrust, and cruelty was the only thing I had ever known. But I was still alive, and somehow against all the odds and all the years of pain and all the people who had tried to break me, that felt like the beginning of something, though I did not know what, though I could not have named it if I tried. I only knew that I was going to find out.

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.”

"Mum." "Mercy!" She yelled, her eyes wide. I drew back a bit, but I held on to her still, determined to hear it till the very end. "I killed you softly. It was painless. You were tired of being alive anyway. You hated life. You hated that you could see the flowers from the closed space and blood everywhere around you. You kept throwing up because of the stench. You hated that man! You hated everybody! I gave you mercy! I helped you!"

After a contaminated drug supply triggers a pandemic that collapses civilization, a young woman named Mercy finds herself stranded in the ruins of Doomcaster. Rescued by the Godless Brothers-a brutal, male-dominated survivor faction-she trades her freedom for survival. The Brothers' leader, Ash, agrees to protect her, but the price is steep: she becomes property, collared and branded. But after Ash is gravely injured and dies, the camp plunges into chaos. A new leader rises through bloodshed, announcing a return to the Brotherhood's roots: women exist to bear the next generation, and every brother has the right to claim one. Mercy endures relentless humiliation and violence as she struggl

Beside the frame sat a glass vase containing the single item the ocean had surrendered: the soot-stained crimson silk scarf. I stared at that photograph until my eyes burned, my chest trapped in a vise that tightened with every tick of the cathedral clock. I was dressed in a tailored black suit, but I felt like a corpse wrapped in wool. The dark gash across my forehead throbbed with a dull, constant ache beneath my dark hair, a bitter physical reminder of the fire that had consumed my life six days ago off the coast of Florida. The archbishop’s voice boomed softly through the vaulted arches, delivering a practiced, hollow sermon about grace, tragedy, and God’s mysterious plan.

“Did that disturb you?” I swallowed. “Yes.” His smile widened. “Good.” The way he said it sent a tremor down my spine. “What you witnessed,” he continued, his thumb pressing slightly into my jaw, “was mercy.” Mercy? Justin’s head had separated from his body in a blink. Laura had collapsed screaming. If that was mercy, what was cruelty? He leaned closer until his breath brushed my cheek. “That was the beginning,” he murmured. “More will follow. You should watch carefully.”

A fire that was spreading down the hallway, forcing doors open as it went. There had been no pain that compared to Jordan’s turning. Emily had felt lost at sea, tugged this way and then that by dueling currents, whilst from below reeds snatched at her ankles and dragged her down; and the more she flailed the more entwined she became. Now there was light in the water, shimmering and indistinct, lights mounted on heads screwed into bodies covered in clothes with the Ministry’s insignia woven into its fabric. Stitched in. Not with love, but with diplomacy, with good intentions. Mercy. I knew this would happen, came a voice from the darkest part of her. And at the sad, strange end of the day may

Maybe losing her was the only way to wake me up, to pull me from the abyss of sin and violence I’d been drowning in for so long. Mercy believed in God’s love, in His mercy. She believed that if we repented, if we turned to him, we could be forgiven. That we could be saved. I never would have repented without her. Without losing her. She was my mercy, in every sense of the word. “I’m not letting you go,” I whisper fiercely, my arms tightening around her. “I’m never letting you go.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve already handled everything. Don’t worry about Joe. He’s got enough charges to fill a book, and with his sentence, he won’t ever breathe fresh air again.” The sunlight outside was warm and golden. Spring was coming. Under the shade of lush green trees, someone waved at me. “Miss Moore, would you like to go on a walk with me?”

Lydia could hear her own frantic heartbeats in her ears and tears started to stream down her eyes, "Please, have mercy. Spare me and my unborn child. We're innocent." Zena growled, "Mention that word innocence again and I'll make your death even more painful!" Her angered words sliced through the air. Lydia's hands clasped together in plea, "I'm sorry, please. All I ask is mercy. I know—" a sniffle paused her words, "—I know I'm not innocent but at least, have mercy, please." She tilted her head, "Mercy?" She mused, speaking the word like it left a better taste in her mouth, and it did. "Mercy is something you won't find in my heart tonight. Not at all."