Ch 1: The Quietest Animal
Be quiet. Be small. Be nothing.
Elena pressed her back against the hallway wallpaper, the raised pattern digging into her spine through the thin dress. Condensation slicked the wine bottle in her hands, its chill seeping into her fingers, but her gaze remained fixed on the sliver of light escaping the study door.
Her father's voice reached her, strained and unfamiliar in its pleading. "Please… you said we had an agreement!"
"The debt stands, Giovanni," another man answered, his tone flat.
Elena's breathing thinned. The smell of cigar smoke drifted from the study and settled in her throat. It was the same smell that clung to her father before the shouting, before his open hand found whichever part of her was closest. Her muscles tightened, shoulders lifting toward her ears, bracing for a blow that hadn't yet come.
Dangerous. I need to hide.
But there was nowhere to hide. She had been fetching the wine he demanded. Now she stood frozen outside the door, caught between the kitchen and the study, unable to move forward and too afraid to retreat.
"Please," her father wheezed. "Just give me another week—no, three days. I'll bring the money to you in three days. Please!"
"I said the debt would be settled today."
A chair scraped across the floor. Several sets of footsteps moved at once. Her father's terrified scream rang through the room, followed by a desperate, choking gasp.
"Then what do you want me to give you? Please… you don't have to do this! I'll give you everything! The house, the car, whatever you want!"
"That's not enough."
Elena heard her father swallow. The silence that followed stretched for several agonizing seconds before his voice finally broke through.
"My daughter, take her! If you take my daughter, is that enough? Will that settle it?"
They were talking about her. They wanted her. The realization jolted Elena so violently that she nearly dropped the bottle. Her eyes darted to the pool of light on the floor. She couldn't stop staring at it. Someone would appear there any second. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The room tilted. A high-pitched ringing filled her ears, drowning out everything else. She fought it, forcing herself to take in a slow, shallow breath as she concentrated on her father's voice, straining to separate his words from the noise inside her head.
"She's a mute girl," he rushed to say, "but that means she can't tell anyone anything. She can't even call for help."
"Hmm... it'll embarrass him, which makes her somewhat useful," the stranger hummed in amusement.
Her father let out a breath. "Yes. Yes, exactly. And the debt, sir?"
"I’ll take five thousand off your twelve. Alright, have her sign this first."
"Elena!" Her father's voice cracked through the hallway. "Get in here!"
Her feet were moving before she could stop them. She took one step, then another, until she found herself crossing the threshold into the study.
The room reeked of wine and cigars. Three broad-shouldered strangers, bodyguards perhaps, stood silently near the wall. Beside the table stood an older man in a grey suit, one hand resting on a stack of papers. His gaze flicked over her, taking in the worn dress and the bare feet, before he tapped a page on the table.
“Here,” he said.
Elena glanced at the papers. Dense lines of text blurred together with signatures and seals. The letters seemed to swim. She stared without understanding a word. Her mind had gone blank. A part of her had drifted upward, hovering near the ceiling, watching with detachment as the small, dark-haired girl in the worn dress was appraised and sold. The transaction was happening to that girl down there. Not to her.
“Elena! Just do as you’re told!” she heard her father snap.
Her eyes dropped to the line. The pen moved almost before she realized she'd picked it up, scratching out a crooked “Elena Rosenberg.”
The man in grey took back the papers and handed them off to one of the guards. “It’s done. This will cover about half the cost."
Her father released a breath of relief.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
"Three months, Giovanni," the man continued. "I want the rest paid by then."
Without sparing her father another glance, he turned toward the door. The three bodyguards followed, murmuring quietly among themselves as they passed. None of them paused to look at her. The door closed behind them.
Elena remained where she was. She didn't move or speak. She hadn't even noticed that the room had emptied. Her eyes stayed fixed on the place where the papers had been.
“Damn it, Elena!” Her father crossed the room and seized her by the arm. He snatched the wine bottle from her hands and shoved her toward the doorway, causing her to stumble. “Go! Get out! I don't want to see that gloomy face of yours anymore. You're not coming back. Do you understand me?”
Her father’s sharp voice cut through her haze. Her shoulders curled inward. Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she pressed her lips together until they stopped trembling. She took another step, then another, quickening toward the door as though staying still might give him a reason to reach for her again.
She crossed the threshold without a word and did not look back.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The rest dissolved into a blur: grey streets slipping past the car windows, the distant silhouette of a mansion rising from the cliffs. The images slid past without her registering any of it.
But as the minutes passed and the quiet held, a thin calm settled over her. By the time they guided her inside the mansion, her senses had sharpened enough to register the place: the cold stone floors, the sharp scent of polish, and the murmur of staff. One by one, those quiet movements around her stopped. Every face she passed turned toward her, making her feel displayed.
Elena lowered her head and followed behind the man in grey, fear tightening her steps. She kept close behind him as they crossed the room and ascended the stairs. Then, they continued down a long corridor and stopped in front of a closed door.
He took a key from his pocket and opened the door. "Go inside."
She stepped through without looking up, relieved for a moment to be out of sight.
"You belong to the Volkov family now," the man in grey said from the doorway. "Specifically, to Kazimir Volkov. You are to be his wife. Don't try to run. If you cause problems..."
Elena nodded before he could finish, a fast, instinctive gesture meant to show compliance.
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. He dipped his chin once, satisfied, and pulled the door shut behind him. The lock clicked.
Elena kept her eyes on the door, listening until his footsteps faded. Then she turned and looked around.
She was in a large room, its far wall dominated by a window overlooking a violent, grey sea. Her gaze flicked from corner to corner, searching the shadows and the spaces behind the furniture, anywhere someone could be hiding. Nothing moved.
I’m alone.
Relief loosened the tightness in her chest, but only for a moment. The room was still too open. If someone opened the door again, they would see her immediately. She had to get out of sight.
Her gaze darted around the room, searching for cover, and found it: the heavy curtain of an alcove. She snatched a pillow from the armchair nearby and hurried into the narrow, shadowed recess. The moment she was out of sight, she curled in on herself, drawing her knees to her chest and locking her arms around them. Then she drew the curtain shut, leaving a gap to see the door.
She had barely settled into the cramped space when the lock turned. Her whole body jolted, her pulse pounding against her throat.
A figure filled the doorway, pausing on the threshold as his eyes swept over the room. They moved from the untouched bed to the sparse furniture, lingering on each empty corner before settling on the alcove. Then he crossed the room with terrifying speed and tore the curtain aside.
Light flooded her small refuge. Elena recoiled, squeezing her eyes shut as she threw both hands over her head.
Please, I’m no threat! Don’t hurt me, I’m nothing, I’m already nothing!
The man didn’t speak. His icy grey eyes moved over her, freezing her in place. Her father used to pause the same way, deciding what she’d done wrong before grabbing, hitting, or shoving her. Elena's breath thinned as the memory took hold. Another shudder wracked her thin frame.
When he spoke, his voice was low and rough. “You’re the mute?”
Elena swallowed and nodded, not daring to meet his eyes.
For a long moment, the man didn’t move. Then he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face and jerking his chin toward the bed. "Get out and sleep there. I won't touch you."
Elena's mind raced as she lowered her arms, watching him warily. He said he wouldn’t touch her, but she had heard promises before. She didn't know whether to believe him, but she wasn't willing to test him either. If he changed his mind, if she said the wrong thing or moved the wrong way, she had no idea what he might do.
She hesitated for another beat before slipping past, careful not to brush against him. At the edge of the vast mattress, she perched stiffly, hands clasped in her lap as she tried to steady her trembling. She didn't dare look at him directly but continued to track his movements from the corner of her eye.
He looked at her then, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned and walked out. The door closed. This time, the lock did not engage.
Elena remained still, listening to the silence, waiting for the door to open again. But there was only silence. Slowly, she let out the breath she had been holding. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. The silk duvet was cold beneath her, and she shivered despite herself. The room was too large, too quiet. She kept her eyes on the door, watching the slit of light beneath.
Outside, the sea roared against the cliffs, wave after wave hurling itself against the stone with relentless, impersonal violence.
Be quiet. Be small. Be nothing.
The litany rose automatically. It was the only prayer she knew. In this cold mansion, she could only hope that the obedience that had kept her safe in her father's house would protect her here as well.
That she could be quiet enough. Small enough. Nothing enough.
To survive.
Last edited by Feiya Phia 8/31/26 - Final edits