CHAPTER 1
The entire atmosphere was engulfed in a deafening reticence.
The silence in that room wasn't peaceful—it was suffocating. Heavy. The kind of silence that crawls under your skin and starts whispering to your mind.
And right now, it was far too much for me.
I sat inside the interrogation room, my body surrounded by layers of security as if I were some kind of ticking bomb waiting to explode.
Thick belly chains wrapped around my waist, the cold metal cuffs biting into my wrists every time I moved even slightly. The steel links clinked faintly whenever I shifted my hands.
Two guards stood inside the room with me.
Four more were stationed outside the door.
All of this security… for one black woman.
I slowly placed my hands flat on the cold silver table before me. The surface was polished enough to show my reflection. A distorted version of my face stared back at me through the metal.
Across the table stood the one-way interrogation glass.
I knew what it meant.
Someone out there was watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
Usually interrogation rooms were meant for suspects, people still under investigation. But I wasn't a suspect.
I was already convicted.
Certified.
Stamped and sealed.
A death row inmate.
My thoughts began getting louder and louder inside my head, bouncing around like bullets in a metal cage. The silence only made them worse.
I couldn't sit still.
I lifted my cuffed hands slightly and signaled for one of the guards to approach.
Neither of them moved.
Not even an inch.
Their eyes stayed locked forward like statues guarding a tomb.
I smirked slightly.
Of course they wouldn't come near me.
Inside this prison I had earned quite a reputation.
The most dangerous inmate in Belmarsh.
Or as the inmates liked to call it…
Hellmarsh.
The toughest prison in the entire United Kingdom.
And apparently, I was the monster living inside it.
Truth be told, I guessed the guards were afraid of me.
And honestly?
I liked that.
Fear had always been more useful than respect.
I was just about to rise from the chair when the door opened.
The sound echoed sharply in the silent room.
A man stepped inside.
A huge man.
Broad shoulders. Solid posture. The kind of presence that filled a room the moment he walked in.
He wore a buff-colored coat that looked far too clean for a place like Belmarsh. The fabric looked expensive, untouched by the filth and misery that lived inside these prison walls.
That alone told me he wasn't a regular officer.
Belmarsh was a place where clean clothes died within minutes.
He pulled out a chair and sat across from me calmly.
Then he straightened his coat with careful precision before pulling out a small notebook and a pen from his pocket.
The room instantly felt different.
His presence carried a strange balance of authority and quiet kindness, something rare in a place built entirely on brutality.
His eyes lifted and landed on me.
Stern.
Sharp.
Those eyes alone were enough to shake the confidence out of most people.
I had stared down killers, gang leaders, corrupt cops, and men who thought they ruled the world.
But for some strange reason…
This man made me uneasy.
He cleared his throat.
"Brandi Knowles, right?"
I nodded slowly.
For a brief moment his expression softened slightly.
Then his eyes dropped to the notebook.
"Why is your surname Knowles?" he asked.
I leaned back slightly in my chair.
"Why is your surname yours?" I fired back.
The smirk that had been forming on his face disappeared instantly.
His jaw tightened.
His face turned pale for a moment, and his left hand clenched into a fist.
That reaction made a small laugh escape my lips.
He took a slow breath before continuing.
"You were sentenced to seven hundred and eighty-four life sentences and a death sentence."
His voice was steady and professional.
"Meaning you are going to be executed."
He paused slightly before adding,
"Your body will be cremated, and your ashes will be locked inside your cell."
None of that was news to me.
I had already heard that speech more times than I could count.
He flipped a page in his notebook.
"You will be executed on Wednesday," he continued.
"But not in this prison."
His eyes lifted to mine again.
"You'll be transferred to a notorious Russian prison known as Black Dolphin. Your execution will be carried out there."
Another pause.
"Your twenty-four-hour suicide monitoring will also be conducted there."
His eyes stayed on my face as if searching for something.
Fear.
Regret.
Anger.
Anything.
But to his disappointment…
He found nothing.
My expression remained as empty as the walls around us.
He stood up and began pacing slowly around the room.
Back and forth.
His shoes echoed softly against the floor as if he were searching for the right words to continue.
After a few moments he stopped and sat down again.
"You know," he said quietly, "your story amazes me."
I raised an eyebrow slightly.
"I don't believe you committed all those manslaughters alone," he continued.
His voice carried genuine curiosity now.
"I believe something pushed you to do what you did."
He leaned forward slightly.
"I mean… there is no way a human being could be this vile."
I watched him silently.
"Look," he continued, his voice softening, "I know you don't know me. But I would really love to hear your story."
So that was it.
He wasn't here for protocol.
He wanted information.
He sighed again.
"I know you're expecting me to ask you what you want for your last meal."
He closed the notebook slightly.
"And I will."
"But first… tell me what really happened."
His voice lowered.
"Tell me what drove you to this point, Ms. Knowles."
Silence returned to the room.
I studied his face carefully.
I wasn't someone who enjoyed talking.
Words had never solved anything in my life.
But strangely…
This man made sense.
And maybe…
Just maybe…
Someone deserved to know how a person like me came to exist.
I slowly gestured for him to sit properly.
Then I leaned forward slightly.
"I never chose to be this heartless," I said quietly.
"I became what I am because I had to."
My eyes locked onto his.
"I am just a reflection of how the world treated me."
I took a slow breath.
Then I began.