Chapter 1: The transfer
My name is Rossalianne. I am twenty years old, and this is the story of how I began to find my voice—even if I never spoke a word.
The college semester ended a week ago. Instead of the quiet break I had prayed for, my life was being rearranged again. It started with a message from my eldest brother, Silas, the head of our family’s "headquarters."
○ Rossalianne, be at the base at 15:00 sharp. No delays.
Another day, another "job" to keep me hidden. I sighed, adjusted my face mask, and pulled my long bangs lower over my eyes. If people couldn't see my face, they couldn't see my fear.
The Meeting
When I arrived at the base the next day, the air was heavy with the scent of gunpowder and expensive cologne. Standing near the entrance was a phalanx of six men—each over six feet tall and built like granite walls. But it was the young man leading them who drew my attention.
He didn't look like a mobster. He looked barely twenty-two, with a smaller frame than his giants, though he still towered over my 5’4” height. He had messy, jet-black curls and a pair of emerald green eyes that seemed to glow against his pale skin.
He stepped forward, pulling a hand from his pocket and extending it toward me. "Hello. My name is Sasha."
He offered a smile that was far too bright for a place like this. I froze. My skin crawled at the sight of his open palm. I didn't move. I simply stared at his hand until the silence became heavy. Even though he couldn't see my eyes through my hair, he felt my gaze. He slowly withdrew his hand, his expression shifting from confusion to a sudden, sharp realization.
"Rossie!"
My brother Bastian (Sebastian) stepped in, sensing my panic. He took me gently by the shoulder—one of the few people I allowed to touch me—and guided me to the side. He then shook Sasha’s hand with a wide, forced grin.
"Good to see you, Sasha! Last time I saw you, you were just a kid."
"It's good to see you too, Mr. Bastian," Sasha replied, though his green eyes kept darting back to me. "How is the family?"
"Doing well. Keeping busy," Bastian said shortly.
As they made small talk, my mind drifted back to the argument in the office yesterday. I had signed my fury at my brothers.
/Why am I being sent away?/ "It's for your own good, Ross," Silas had told me. "The Lions Organization is sniffing around. You know what they did. We can't let them get close to you again."
The Long Drive
The ride to City S was five hours of suffocating silence. Sasha sat across from me in the back of the luxury SUV. For the first hour, he simply stared. It wasn't the way a predator stares; it was the way a scientist looks at a puzzle he can't solve.
Finally, I couldn't take the pressure of his gaze. I lifted my hands.
/Mr. Sasha, is there something you need?/ "So you really don't speak," he murmured. His voice was deep, lacking the mockery I expected. "I thought your brothers were exaggerating. Why don't you talk?"
It was the question I hated most.
/Because I don't want to./
He smirked. "Fair enough. You don't want to tell me that. But what about the mask? Your brother said you aren't sick. And the bangs... I can't see your eyes at all."
/I don't need to be sick to want privacy. My hair is my choice./
Sasha leaned in a fraction, his emerald eyes dancing. "Then it seems I’ll have to find the answers myself."
Before I could process the threat, he slid closer on the leather seat. He reached out, his hand hovering just inches above mine. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I yanked my hand away, pressing myself against the car door.
"Can I have your hand, please?" he asked. His tone was suddenly calm, firm, and—strangely—gentle.
/Why?/ I signed, my fingers trembling so hard the gesture was almost unreadable.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "You're shaking. You let Bastian touch you, but you're terrified of me."
/You are a stranger. Why would you think I’d let you touch me?/
"Take my hand," he insisted, his voice dropping to a soft plea. "Please."
I felt the hot sting of tears behind my bangs. It wasn't that I hated him—it was that my body physically wouldn't obey. The trauma of the kidnappings had locked my skin behind a wall I couldn't climb.
/I can't./ I signed, a single tear escaping and disappearing into my mask. /I just can't./
Sasha recoiled as if I had struck him. His confidence vanished, replaced by genuine horror. "Wait—no. I’m sorry. I didn't mean... please, don't cry."
The Arrival
To my relief, he backed off. For the next few hours, I buried myself in my laptop, coding complex encryption keys for my private clients to drown out the world. Sasha watched me work, surprised by my skill, but he didn't try to touch me again.
As we crossed into the Volkov estate—a massive forest surrounding a fortress-like mansion—I realized my life was about to change.
When the car stopped, a young bodyguard opened my door and reflexively held out a hand to help me out. I darted past him before he could make contact. I heard Sasha sigh behind me, patting the guard's shoulder.
"She doesn't like being touched, Leo," Sasha said quietly. "It’s not your fault. Give her space."
I walked toward the massive front doors of the Volkov mansion, feeling his eyes on my back. He knew my secret now. He knew I was broken. But for the first time, someone outside my family looked at me like I was something worth protecting, rather than something that needed to be hidden.
