Novel Mercy Novels & Stories

his lips quivered. "P-Please…” His voice cracked. “Have mercy. Mercy… please…” Ruby didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Mercy? Where was mercy when her father was dying? Where was mercy when she was kneeling before Selena like a slave because he had paid money to buy her like a commodity? Where was mercy when they took everything from her? She stepped forward, lifting the burning wood. But before she could bring it to him, a hand grabbed hers. She turned, startled.

Tied to its leg was a note. Damien untied it and handed it to me. A note written in Russian. «Милосердие , это клинок. Тот, кто его не проявляет, найдёт богов глухими к молитвам , пока истекает кровью.» The words carved themselves into my brain, colder than the barrel of a gun. “Mercy is a blade. He who shows none will find the gods deaf when he prays, as he bleeds.”

She would claim the pen, the crown, and the dawn. And, for the first time, rewrite mercy as the strongest magic of all. And far below, beneath mirror and root, prophecy and pain, the world itself waited, breath held, to see if mercy could outlive vengeance, and if, in the end, it would be enough...

I frowned. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation at hand. Everyone wants you dead. I’m the only thing keeping you alive. And the only reason I’m keeping you alive is because I want you to suffer.” My eyes widened. “Yes. Aurora, death is mercy for you. I want you to wake up every single day and feel as miserable as I do without my brother. You’re not my guest here. You’ve lost privileges of the bedroom. Nico will find suitable arrangements befitting your status as my slave.” He thundered.

she said. Asher studied her. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” she nodded. “Not for him. For me.” Asher pulled her into his arms without another word, holding her as tightly as he could without breaking her. Behind them, the guards remained silent. Mercy had been chosen. Not because it was deserved. But because Elena had finally reclaimed the power they’d tried to steal from her. And this time, she was free. ---

Red welts marked where her nails had dug in—small, crescent-shaped, already darkening. I pressed my fingers over them gently. So this was what mercy looked like. Not kindness. Not forgiveness. Just pain delivered quietly—where no one else would ever see it. And Sebastian… He had believed her. Because she was smiling. And I was human. ---

I listened to none of it as memories of their abuses flooded my mind, nearly traumatizing me again. “You will live, that I promise,” I said, turning away. “Not as family, but as servants. I’ll make you remember every day what you took from me when I was helpless—every detail, in vivid shades. Mercy was a privilege you never gave me, even when I pleaded for it many times.” Their screams followed me out, but I cared less. I didn’t look back, and I had no intention of doing so. “But mercy I will offer, and that mercy is keeping you all alive—because you would wish I had killed you all.”

His lips trembled slightly, and across the room, he silently mouthed, "I'm sorry." Slowly, I took off my sunglasses, my eyes as calm as a mountain lake. I held his gaze and silently mouthed, "You don't deserve my forgiveness." Then, I curled my lips into a faint smile, turned around, and walked away, leaving behind a past fraught with blood, tears, and betrayal. … Months later, with Uncle Winston's help and care, I made a full recovery. Mom also began to heal from her grief. I legally changed Avery's last name to Monet, completely erasing all traces associated with the Sinclair family.

“Wayne, I was wrong! I’ll never lie to you again. I can’t lose my legs! “I’m sorry! I’ll apologize to you and to Jocelyn. Fine, I’ll give the house back to her. Please, let me go! I’ll leave the country immediately and behave myself. I won’t embarrass myself in front of you again! “Wayne, please let me go. I…” The truck drew closer and closer. Her pleas were swallowed by the deafening roar as black tires crushed down on her legs. All that remained were screams that tore through the sky. “Ahh! My legs! My legs!”

She blamed me for standing in the way of her happiness. Over time, her mind grew more and more unstable. Her depression worsened. And every time she saw me, she would think of the man who died. That was when her hatred toward me began. After hearing all that, the tears that were welling up in my eyes finally fell. I looked at her and asked, "They say that children are born from love. They come to this world because they are wanted. What about me? Was my existence a mistake?"