Just Mercy Online Book Novels & Stories

“I had to follow her everywhere to get that damned fingerprint and it was so easy transferring it on the box. Can you believe it? The police actually did believe it!” “How dare you?! How could you involve innocent people?!” I feel my tears streaming all over my face as my heart was pounding hard inside my chest. “I get what I want the way I want it.” She answers so calmly that it’s frightening. “How could you do this to me?!” I cried as I clenched my fists behind me. “I haven’t done anything to you!!” “You do not deserve the better version of Milo and no one else should. He’s a fucking user and only gets the good stuff out from you because he benefits from it. Once the bad things start to ha

He gestured to the warehouse, indicating the people that slept within. “My wife and daughter were both severely altered by what was done to them. Verina has never blamed me,” he swallowed thickly, shaking his head sorrowfully. "Mercy though... Mercy blames me, and justly. What sort of life does she have locked up with her parents, unable to seek her own way, to experience the world, to have friends, a mate… But I cannot free her,” a muscle twitched in the corner of his jaw as his eyes lifted to the second story windows and, following his gaze, Aislen saw that Mercy looked down at them, her head tilted and her expression chilling in its predatory nature. “Because I fear what she will do.”

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A corner of Dominika's lips twitches ever so slightly as she calls out after me, "Wielding authority may seem easy at first, koshka, but using it is hard—especially when you realize there are consequences for every action you take." The Kuzma Fedorov painting, stacks of art books, and plush high-end furniture clash in a conflicting environment—one with tension and luxury intertwined as I enter my old room. Dressed in my jeans, Mercy sits in a chair by the window, her face set inan expression of anger and hurt. Her hostile glare overpowers the room's lavish wealth. "Mercy," I speak cautiously. "You didn't eat anything?" She waves her hand impatiently as if to swat away my annoying concern. "S

Maybe it was the part of me that was desperate to think and deny that it could be serious. After all, why would the merciful God do this to someone like Miracle? My miracle who has been through so much in life, and she's just now enjoying life. Why would he be so cruel to do this to someone finally showing genuine smiles and feeling genuine happiness? To someone who found the will to live again? I was wrong. Damn, I was so wrong and I don't know what to do.

“Tell me, what did your reign achieve for them?” Her eyes snapped to mine, sharp and wet. “You call this justice? Or revenge?” “This is mercy,” I replied, forcing calm into the words. Mercy was easier to claim than cruelty. She looked back at the pit, at Clara’s trembling hands, at Ben’s hunched form. “Let me help them,” she said. The plea was soft, but it struck deeper than any scream. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to order the guards to release them, to stop this madness. Instead, I heard myself answer, “You will join them soon enough.”

“That’s how this started. With a kid hiding in a closet watching his parents die.” She walked over to him. Stood close. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said. “Don’t be. It made me what I am.” “That doesn’t mean you had to become this.” “Yes it did.” He looked at her. “Because mercy gets you killed. Kindness makes you weak. I learned that at twelve years old and nothing since has proved me wrong.” “I have.” He frowned. “What?” “I’ve shown you kindness. And I’m still alive.” She held his gaze. “Mercy hasn’t made you weaker. It’s made you more human.”

"You have a child. You know what it is to love something. Have mercy. Please. For your baby's sake, don't kill me." The words hang in the damp air. Mercy. It is a beautiful word. It belongs in churches. It belongs in storybooks. I lower the gun. The man slumps, letting out a breath of relief. He thinks he has won. He thinks he has found the soft spot in the Queen’s armor. He thinks that because I gave life, I cannot take it. I look at Ciro. He is standing in the shadows behind the prisoner, a silent, lethal monolith. He hasn't moved. He hasn't spoken. He is watching me with an intensity that burns hotter than the single bulb swinging overhead.

"Justice isn't a cage! Justice is the fact that we're still standing despite everything you did to us! My mother didn't die so I could be a prisoner! She died so I could be the Ending!" I flooded the Spire’s protocol with the sensation of Mercy. Not the mercy of a god, but the messy, difficult mercy of a human being who knows they aren't perfect. I showed the Echo the feeling of the 136th chapter—the joy of the twins’ laughter, the warmth of the sun on a scarred shoulder, the taste of bread shared in the mud. I showed it that a world that remembers its pain but chooses joy is more powerful than a world that is "Clean."

The man’s eyes widened in horror, his voice strangled in his throat. “No… no, please!” he cried, thrashing helplessly against the chains that bound him. Liam crouched down, tilting the blade so the man could see his own terrified reflection. “You know I wish I could have mercy ,” Liam whispered coldly. “But mercy doesn’t exist in my world.” With one swift motion, the blade sliced through flesh and bone. The man’s scream was cut short as his head rolled to the floor, thudding heavily before landing sideways, his lifeless eyes still frozen in terror.