Someone Knew

  ~TIANA {POV}~

A sharp ringing pain shot through my head the moment my eyes opened, causing me to shut them again for a quick second before I slowly opened them once more.

I tried to sit up on what I assumed to be a bed, my brows knitting together as the pounding in my head only worsened with the movement.

It was a dull, throbbing ache in my skull, like someone was hammering against my brain from the inside.

"Careful now."

Someone whom I hadn't noticed spoke beside the bed. My eyes snapped toward the source of the voice, only for them to widen when I saw him, the comatose man from last night.

He was in a wheelchair, his temples resting against his knuckles as he stared at me with a plain coldness in his eyes.

"You hit your head so hard last night I was starting to think you might never wake up," he said, his voice deep with a slightly rough edge beneath it.

So this was what he sounded like.

Registering what he had just said, my hand came up to my head to feel the bandage wrapped around it.

"What is your name?" he asked.

I blinked at him, unable to respond as my knees curled up to my chest instead.

When I didn't say anything for more than ten seconds, a slight frown creased his brows.

"I asked a question. Speak," he ordered firmly, harsher than how he had previously spoken.

All I could do was shake my head at him, which only made him frown deeper. There was no way to tell him I was mute.

He rolled the wheelchair closer to the bed, and as he did so, I shifted until I was at the edge of the bed, almost falling off it just to get away from him.

His frown deepened even more when I did this.

"Don't make me repeat myself," he said, his expression darkening. “You trying to piss me off?”

When I still didn't utter a word, he turned the wheelchair toward the door and rolled forward.

My gaze did not dare follow him, not until I heard him say a name.

"Marcus."

My gaze instantly shot up to see the man who had bought me last night. Marcus was leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

The man jerked his chin toward me. "Your new pet is proving to be stubborn," the man in the wheelchair said.

My stomach dropped immediately, not because I'd just been called a mere pet, I had been called worse after all, but because I was terrified that I had just displeased this man.

I knew well the punishments that followed after a master's displeasure.

Marcus's eyes only swept toward me for barely a second before he faced the man in the wheelchair again.

"What happened?" he asked.

"He's refusing to respond to my questions." I could hear the very clear vexation in his voice as he spoke. He glanced toward me and my eyes instinctively looked away.

"He can't speak," I heard Marcus respond.

There was a brief silence, and I could still feel the man's eyes on me.

"You should have mentioned that before." That was all he said, and after a moment I heard the sound of the wheelchair rolling away.

I finally raised my head to look toward the door, only to see Marcus still standing there staring at me with an unreadable expression.

"Try not to vex my brother again if you want to keep breathing," he said before straightening, turning, and leaving.

The other man was his brother. I was shocked hearing that, but it wasn't completely surprising. They did look a bit alike, especially in the eyes, and both of them carried the same terrifying presence.

I sat there for a moment longer before standing up when I noticed a mirror hanging on the wall. My feet lightly tapped against the floor as I approached it, coming to stand in front of it.

My reflection stared back at me, an unrecognizable replica of myself. I couldn't recall the last time I had seen my own reflection. I touched my face, sunken eyes staring back at me with haunting unfamiliarity and quiet despair lingering there.

I was just about to turn away to find a bathroom when I saw the clothes. My eyes widened when I realized my clothes had been changed.

These were fresh and clean, with no dirty stains or the smell of rust and blood, completely different from the clothes I had on yesterday.

Someone had changed my clothes while I was unconscious. Someone had undressed me and had seen the bandage wrapped tightly around my chest. My heart turned erratic at the thought that my secret had been revealed, that someone in this house knew I was a woman disguising herself as a man.

Panic hit me almost instantly.

My hands trembled as I clutched the hem of the shirt, like I could pull the truth back in if I held it tightly enough. My heart slammed violently against my ribs. If they knew, then what?

Would they sell me off again to an even worse buyer?

Or would they simply end me for my deceit?

I couldn't breathe. The air suddenly started to feel thin, like the walls were slowly closing in around me.

I stumbled back from the mirror, my eyes darting toward the window.

My legs felt weak. I needed to run, or maybe I needed to hide. But how far would I even get? Every previous attempt to escape had only ended with me being caught and subjected to punishments worse than death.

And there was nowhere to hide. Besides what how would hiding even help?

There was a sudden sound of someone clearing their throat behind me.

I spun around, my breath hitching in my throat.

A maid stood by the door, laundry in her hands, staring me up and down with a stern frown on her face.

“Wondering who got you into those new clothes?”