No Memory, No Mercy Novels & Stories

I took a deep breath and hit play. The recording began with loud noises in the background, and then I could barely hear Cyril's voice, which was all shaky and weak. "Mommy… Mommy… It hurts…" It felt like a punch to the gut. Tears started pouring down my face uncontrollably. Then came the sickening voices of those two women. "Roxy… do you think they're… dead?" "Ugh, seriously? We finally got our acceptance letters and just wanted to chill for a bit, but then we ran into them. Why weren't they paying attention when they crossed the street? Talk about bad luck."

Not against a person, but against the memory, the helplessness Nick represented. Meredith’s gasp echoed softly in the high-ceilinged room. The older woman stood frozen near the table, one hand still pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide, not just with fear now, but with a dawning, profound apprehension. Torin remained a silent monolith in the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on Novah, assessing, unreadable. The scent of spilled broth, cold stone, and the sharp tang of shattered clay mingled with the lingering ozone-smell of unleashed power.

That’s all I needed. I stayed low, leaning against a wall across the street. I wore a gray hoodie, pulled down over my face. Sunglasses. Gloves. Everything was ready. I didn’t even need to think twice. This was my chance. Mercy wanted this over. She was tired of waiting. She told me to get her so it will be a game over No games this time. Just grab her and go. I checked my phone again. One message from Mercy: “Finish the job Ghost. No mistakes.”

Childhood memories I thought were buried deep, fragments of fear and guilt, of nights spent alone and whispers of things I couldn’t yet name. I stumbled, pressing my hands to my temples as visions surged through me. The smell of smoke, the echo of voices calling my name, the laughter of someone I shouldn’t have trusted. Rowan Mercer’s power wasn’t just physical—he had learned to manipulate memories, to twist them, to make them real in my mind. My Omega senses were overwhelmed. The surge of emotion, the flood of memories, threatened to break me entirely. “You remember your first fear,” his voice whispered, low and sinister. “The night you thought you’d lost everything. The night you realized

I lean him over the black and let him look at his reflection. “Do you know what a river remembers?” I ask. He chokes on air. “You’ll make me a martyr and give Nonna more reason to hate you.” “No,” I say. “I’ll make Nonna careful.” He tries a bargain. They always do. Routes, politicians, someone else’s head. I let him talk because the living deserve their last bad decision. Then I stop listening. I press him down. The water takes him like a debt it was promised. He goes strong, then weaker, then becomes memory. I hold until my arms shake, then a beat longer, because mercy works better when it’s paid for.

UNSTABLE STOCK CLEARANCE. POWER STACK MERCY VENT. Mercy vent. I stare at the phrase until the words stop meaning anything. Damian’s voice is quiet. “That is the lever they intend to put under your hand.” Leo writes: USE IT FIRST. “To kill you.” TO KILL THE CITY THAT MADE ME THIS. “With you inside it.” I AM INSIDE IT EITHER WAY. The unit freezes. Then another line appears, slower. IF YOU LOVE ME, DON'T SAVE ME. I want to smash the screen.

Seren A boy screaming for his mother while his own hands strangled her. A warrior begging his body to stop as it drove a blade through his brother’s ribs. A woman watching her feet carry her forward, step after step, toward people she once called family. The pain didn’t come in waves, but all at once. It had weight, crushing me. It filled every space inside my skull until I could no longer tell where I ended and they began. Memories that weren’t mine flickered behind my eyes—pack markings, burning homes, the copper taste of blood swallowed against protest. The metallic tang of Meredith’s magic threaded through it all, sharp and rotting, binding them together like barbed wire pulled too tight

"Look, it's normal for couples to have their tiffs. They say a spat between husband and wife is short-lived, right? Don knows he messed up. Forgive him, will you? "Our family business is in a real bind, and you're the only one who can sort it out completely. "Besides, you don't want to see the company you built from scratch just vanish, do you?" I looked at the family members who once dodged bullets with me, then all begged me for help, and I could not help but ask, "You all know Sebastian's 'amnesia' is just an act, right?" They all went quiet at my question. Their eyes told me everything, there was no shock there, just regret.

The air was thick with anticipation, as if the walls themselves held countless untold stories. I approached the reception desk, where a young woman with piercing blue eyes and an enigmatic smile greeted me. Her name tag read "Lena." "Welcome to Memoria," she said, her voice soft yet confident. "How may I assist you today?" "I... I've heard that you can erase memories," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Is it true?" Lena nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, it's true. Memoria specializes in memory alteration. We help individuals who seek to escape the pain of their past, to start anew."

“Tell me what is going on. What is wrong with me? Who are you and why are we sharing sex? Is this a trick? Are you being forced into a breeding experiment with me? I want the truth, female.” Her hands flattened on his chest and fear inched along her spine. “Please listen to me. Mercile is gone. You are no longer being controlled by them. An unknown drug has affected your memory. You get confused. You don’t need to hurt me to get me to tell you anything you want to know. Just ask. I’m here because I want to be and I care about you.” His chest vibrated when he snarled. “You care about me?” “Yes.”