Kneel Your Grace Novels & Stories

“And how did you feel afterward?” “Guilty,” I whispered. “But not enough to stop me from coming back.” He nodded once, like he’d expected exactly that answer. “Kneel.” I dropped to the stone floor in front of the table. The cold bit into my knees. The open book waited. The new chapter was titled *Deeper Repentance*. “Read,” he ordered. “From the top. Loud and clear this time.” My voice shook as I began. “I renounce the weakness of my body. I offer every impure touch to God as suffering. I reject the pleasure that pulls me from grace…”

Whitney gritted her teeth and yanked backward hard. I clearly heard the sound of my bones snapping. The pain ripped through my entire body. My vision went dark. Cold sweat soaked through my back, and I nearly passed out on the spot. Before I could even catch my breath, Kelly picked up a wooden bat from the corner. She raised it high and brought it down hard on my right hand. The bat even snapped from the force, and at the same time, an agonizing pain shot up from my right wrist.

Our eyes meet. No words at first. Just the sound of my breathing, too loud in the quiet. He steps forward. Slow. Deliberate. “Close the door, Celeste.” My hand trembles as I obey. The latch clicks shut. The world narrows to this room, this man, this moment. He studies me for a long beat eyes tracing from veil to hem, lingering on the rise of my chest. “Kneel,” he says softly. I sink to my knees on the worn rug before the small altar. The stone is cold through the fabric, grounding me even as everything else spins.

I stubbornly stood up again, but Grace delivered another kick to the back of my knee and forced me to kneel on the ground. "Have you forgotten that Ruth is also staying in this hospital?" she asked cruelly as she pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Stop funding all of Ruth Keaton's medical treatments and kick her out of the hospital." "No!" I shouted as I frantically grabbed Grace's leg. "How can you be so heartless, Grace?" She kicked me square in the chest with a look of disdain. "I'm giving you three seconds. Either you apologize or Ruth dies. Three… Two…"

​Kneel. ​Instantly, like a row of dominos falling to a mechanical whim, the members of the Silver Crescent Pack dropped. Alpha Garrick went down to one knee, bowing his head deeply. Luna Evelyn bowed her face to the cobblestones. Brandon and Cynthia collapsed instantly, their bodies trembling under the sheer pressure of the King’s divine right to rule. Hundreds of warriors and omegas hit the ground in perfect unison, their heads bowed, their eyes pinned to the dirt. ​Except for Seraphina.

“You will do more than just apologize. You will kneel in the dirt and weed the entire section before the elders arrive.” “Yes, Mother,” I whispered, my hands trembling slightly as I dropped to the soil. I dug into the earth, scraping at the stubborn roots with fingers raw and blistered from hours of chores, while the other children watched silently. Some avoided my gaze entirely. Some smirked. Grace leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, her golden hair shining in the sun. “Do you really think kneeling like that will make anyone respect you, little sister?” Her words were soft, almost sweet—but the venom behind them was unmistakable.

Years of them. Dean standing over me during arguments. Dean demanding apologies. Dean expecting me to bend. Dean expecting me to compromise. Dean expecting me to be the one who gave in. Every single time. The realization settled over me quietly. Then I said, “Kneel.” For a second, I thought I’d imagined saying it. The room became so silent it almost hurt. Dean blinked. Once. Then twice. His expression froze completely. “What?” My voice remained calm. Almost frighteningly calm.

Kirill understood a half breath before I said the shape. His eyes flicked, still down, to the cup-smear at his knees. Under the dais the staff-tick hurried, pleased. The priestess’s empty fingers opened as if to catch a falling thing. And I, with Slava’s heat a handspan from my shoulder and the crown cutting my palm, put the next word where it would break the last of his tunic theater. “Kneel.”

“Crawl to her. On your hands and knees. Then beg for her forgiveness.” A massive gasp went through the crowd. The assistant’s face went pale. On my knees? Like a dog? Her mind screamed in protest, but she looked at the manager’s cold face and Alessio’s lethal eyes. She had no choice. Even if she didn't want to do this she had no choice but to crawl. Slowly, she lowered herself until her palms touched the floor. She began to crawl toward the couch where Isadora sat. The sound of cameras clicking filled the air.

Kayla Grace stared down at the table, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. She almost seemed to tremble a little as she tried to gather her courage. I remained silent, giving her the opportunity to speak when she was ready. In the corridor outside, Noah and Nicholas were eerily silent. I knew they were listening to every word. Surely Grace knew that, too. Finally, Grace glanced up at me through her lashes, her eyes welling up with misty tears. She hesitated, and for a moment, I thought she might clam up entirely. But then, with a deep, shuddering breath, she began.