The Echo She Chose To Erase

I was Aegis's top operative, betrayed by my fiancé, Hazen, and the very woman I had rescued and mentored, Bianca.

They conspired against me, framing me as unstable and jealous. Hazen, the man I was supposed to marry, chose to believe her calculated lies over my raw pain, even after he caught them together.

He pushed me, causing a head injury, and then publicly condemned me when I tried to expose Bianca's manipulation. My own partner, my friends, everyone I had saved and fought alongside, turned against me, siding with the "fragile" victim she pretended to be.

Hazen's final betrayal was the coldest. He had me tortured, then left me broken in a cell, all to protect Bianca's fabricated innocence. "You are a liability, Echo," he had said, his eyes devoid of love, "a dangerous, unstable liability."

I was left with nothing, my spirit shattered, my entire life a lie. The accusations, the abandonment, the sheer injustice of it all-it was a poison I couldn't live with.

So I did the only thing I could. I walked into a clandestine clinic and had them erase it all.

Now, I am Evelyn, a quiet bookseller in Vermont. I remember nothing. And today, three years later, a man with haunted eyes just walked into my shop and called me by a name I don't know: "Echo?"

Chapter 1

Evelyn Compton POV:

The world felt soft, muted, like a favorite sweater pulled over sharp edges. I ran my hand over the worn spines of first editions, their faint, papery scent a comfort I barely registered but deeply understood. This was my life now. Quiet. Predictable. It was everything I hadn' t known I needed, everything I never remembered wanting.

I remember nothing before eighteen. That' s what the doctors told me when I woke up. A clean slate, they called it. A fresh start. I didn' t know what I was starting from, but the emptiness didn' t scare me. It felt more like freedom.

My past was a blank page, devoid of names, faces, or the weight of shared memories. Hazen, Bianca, Corina-these names meant nothing. They were just sounds. The clandestine security firm, Aegis, was a whisper from a dream I couldn' t recall, a ghost in a machine that no longer recognized me. It was all gone.

They say I faked my death. That I meticulously erased myself from a dangerous, high-stakes life. I don' t know how. I don' t know why. But I woke up in a quiet room, with a new name, a small sum of money, and a burning desire for anonymity. Vermont, with its sleepy towns and endless green mountains, felt like the perfect place to disappear.

My bookshop, "The Quiet Corner," became my sanctuary. Hours melted into pages, and years drifted by like dust motes in the afternoon sun. People here knew me as Evelyn, the gentle woman who always had the right book, the perfect cup of tea. They saw peace, and they saw happiness. They saw a woman content to live within the quiet hum of her own making, unaware of the brutal operative she once was. Some probably thought I was running from something, a broken heart perhaps, or a bad debt. They were half right, I suppose. I was running from everything.

Then he walked in.

The bell above the door chimed, a familiar sound, but it felt like a discordant note in my carefully constructed symphony of calm. A man stood framed in the doorway, his silhouette blocking the late afternoon light. He was a stranger, yet my instincts, dulled by years of peace, instantly flared. My hand tightened on the antique paperknife on the counter.

He moved, stepping further into the shop, and the light caught him. Broad shoulders, a sharp, unyielding jawline, eyes like flint. Raw. Dangerous. My breath hitched, a faint tremor running through my veins.

"Echo?" His voice was a low growl, rough with something I couldn't place. Grief? Anger? I felt a shiver, an echo of a forgotten fear.

I frowned, clutching the paperknife tighter. "I' m sorry, you must have the wrong person. My name is Evelyn."

He stared, his flint-like eyes raking over me, a strange mix of disbelief and despair on his face. He looked like he' d seen a ghost, or perhaps, like he was a ghost.

"Evelyn?" He scoffed, a bitter sound that scraped against my eardrums. "Who the hell is Evelyn? You' re Echo. You always were."

I shook my head, my confusion genuine. There was no recognition, no spark of memory. Only a growing knot of unease, a cold dread seeping into my bones. This man, with his demanding gaze and his strange names, was a tear in the fabric of my quiet life.

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing, searching for something I didn't possess. "You don't remember, do you? Any of it?" His voice was laced with a disbelief that slowly morphed into something akin to horror. He looked utterly shattered, as if my simple words had just ripped his world apart.

A strange prickling sensation crawled up my spine. My peaceful bubble felt fragile, threatening to burst. There was a raw intensity in his gaze that bypassed my conscious mind and whispered to something deeper, something dormant and dangerous within me. I felt a primal urge to flee, to barricade myself behind the rows of silent books.

Just then, movement at the edge of my vision. Outside the window, a familiar car pulled up. A low-slung, black sedan. And in the passenger seat, a figure turned, looking directly at the bookshop.

A flash. Not a memory, not exactly. More like a sudden, jarring image, unbidden and brutal.

The scent of jasmine and betrayal hung heavy in the air, a sickening perfume. The clink of champagne glasses, the muffled sounds of a party, all fading into the background as I stared, frozen in the doorway.

Hazen, my Hazen, his dark head bent low, his hand tangled in Bianca' s golden hair. Her soft laughter, a sound I had come to associate with innocence, now echoed with a chilling, triumphant note.

My engagement ring, heavy and cold on my finger, seemed to mock me. Weeks from our wedding, years of shared danger and whispered promises, all dissolving into this single, sickening tableau.

My voice was a raw whisper, barely audible above the blood roaring in my ears. "Hazen?"

He pulled away from Bianca, his eyes, usually so sharp and controlled, wide with a fleeting moment of surprise, then something colder. Bianca, feigning innocence, clutched at his arm, her eyes wide and wet, a perfect picture of vulnerability.

I lunged, a flash of pure, unadulterated rage coursing through me. I didn' t aim to hurt, only to tear that angelic mask off her face, to expose the viper beneath. But Hazen was faster. He caught my wrist, his grip like iron, twisting me away from her delicate form.

"Echo, stop!" His voice was a command, not a plea. A command issued to an enemy, not a fiancée.

I ignored him, struggling, my eyes locked on Bianca' s smug, terrified face. That fleeting smirk she couldn' t quite hide, even as tears welled up. She knew.

Then came the shove. Hard, unexpected. My feet slipped on the polished floor. My head hit the marble fountain with a sickening thud, and I plunged into the icy water, the champagne bubbles mockingly dancing around me as the world spun into a blur of pain and disbelief.

This wasn't the first time. The pattern, etched deep into my soul, was undeniable. The innocent victim, the protector, the outcast. Always me, always on the outside, always disposable.

Bianca. Bianca, the fragile girl I' d pulled from the jaws of a human trafficking ring years ago. A child, trembling and broken, her eyes wide with terror and gratitude.

I remembered the long nights I spent with her, teaching her to defend herself, to navigate the shadows of our world. I' d seen her talent, her sharp mind, her surprising resilience. I' d nurtured her, protected her, brought her into Aegis, into our family. Hazen had been cautious at first, but I' d vouched for her, treated her like the little sister I never had. We' d shared secrets, laughter, dreams of a safer future for her.

I introduced her to our friends, our colleagues. Corina, my partner, had been wary at first, but Bianca' s calculated charm had won her over, piece by piece. Bianca was always so sweet, so eager to please, so appreciative of every small kindness. She became everyone' s favorite, the bright spot in our dark existence.

And now this. Hazen, my fiancé, the man who was supposed to be my anchor, my partner in every sense of the word, choosing her. Choosing her feigned vulnerability over my raw pain, her calculated innocence over my undeniable truth.

The water closed over me, cold and suffocating. The pain in my head throbbed, but the pain in my heart was a crushing weight. He had chosen her. They had all chosen her.

I awoke in the Aegis medical bay, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling my nostrils. My head ached, a dull, persistent throb. Hazen stood over me, his expression stony, his jaw tight.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice devoid of warmth, professional and distant, as if I were just another casualty of a mission gone wrong.

Not even a touch. Not a flicker of concern in his eyes. Just that cold, detached question.

"How do you think I' m feeling?" I bit out, my voice raspy. "After being thrown into a fountain by my fiancé, for a girl who was literally kissing him on the eve of our wedding?"

He sighed, a long, weary sound that spoke of impatience, not regret. "Bianca has been through a lot, Echo. You know that. She' s fragile. She needs protection."

My laugh was hollow, humorless. "Fragile? She was practically grinding against you, Hazen! And I' m the one bleeding." I touched the bandage on my temple.

He flinched, but his resolve didn' t waver. "She' s easily overwhelmed. Your... reaction... it was extreme. You frightened her."

"I frightened her?" My voice rose, cracking with disbelief. "She' s manipulating you! All of you!"

He shook his head, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "You need to calm down, Echo. This isn' t you. Your judgment is clouded." He paused, his gaze hardening. "Alston is not pleased. This public display, the... incident... it reflects poorly on Aegis. You know the rules."

The rules. Always the rules. The unspoken code of loyalty, the unspoken understanding that I had broken by daring to expose their carefully constructed facade.

"We' ll need to postpone the wedding," he stated, his voice flat, emotionless. "Until things settle down. Until you can get your head straight."

My hand shot out, pushing against his chest when he tried to touch my arm. A cold, visceral revulsion. "Don' t," I whispered, hatred poisoning my tongue. "Don' t you dare touch me."

Just then, his comm unit buzzed. A frantic voice, Bianca' s, tinny and panicked. "Hazen? Hazen, where are you? I... I think someone' s following me! I' m scared!"

His eyes, which had held not a single shred of concern for me, instantly softened. All the coldness vanished, replaced by a fierce, protective urgency. "I' m on my way, Bianca. Stay calm." He didn' t even look back as he strode out of the room, leaving me alone in the sterile silence.

Alone. Betrayed. Broken.

My gaze fell on a digital advertisement cycling on the wall-mounted screen. "Tired of your past haunting you? Erase the pain. Reclaim your future. Clandestine Tech Solutions, Memory Wipe Procedures." The words blurred, then sharpened, coalescing into a single, irresistible thought.

Erase it all. Erase him. Erase her. Erase the pain, the betrayal, the memory of ever loving anyone so deeply, only to be discarded.

I got dressed, my movements stiff, my mind already made up. I was done. Done with Aegis, done with Hazen, done with the life that had devoured me whole and spit me out. I would find Clandestine Tech. I would become someone new. Someone who had never known this kind of shattering agony.

The first phase of the memory wipe procedure was just a consultation. A series of questions, scans, the cold, clinical assessment of a life I was desperate to shed. They asked if I understood the permanence, the risks. I simply nodded, my gaze distant. What could be riskier than living with this gaping wound in my soul?

I returned to our shared safe house, a place that once felt like home, now a tomb of shattered dreams. Laughter and music spilled from the living room, a jarring contrast to the hollow ache in my chest. They were celebrating, no doubt. Celebrating my downfall.

I pushed the door open, and the noise died. Every head turned, faces that had once smiled at me now held wary, guilty, or outright hostile expressions. Hazen was there, of course, Bianca clinging to his side, looking pale and fragile, the perfect picture of a damsel in distress.

"Echo," Hazen said, his voice flat, his eyes avoiding mine. "You' re back."

"Yes," I replied, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil inside. "It seems I am." I bypassed him, my gaze sweeping over the familiar faces, now strangers.

Corina, my partner for years, stepped forward, a forced smile on her face. "Echo, good. We were just... talking. Bianca' s been so brave through all of this. We really think you should apologize to her."

My eyes flickered to Bianca, who managed a small, trembling sniffle. "She' s so upset," Corina continued, laying a hand on Bianca' s shoulder. "Maybe you could... offer her something. A peace offering?"

A peace offering. For the woman who had systematically dismantled my life. The bitter irony almost made me laugh.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out the small, intricately carved jade elephant I' d carried for luck since my first mission with Aegis. It was a gift from my grandmother, a symbol of strength and wisdom. I held it out to Bianca, my hand steady.

Bianca' s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine surprise in them before she composed herself into a mask of hesitant acceptance. She reached for it, her fingers brushing mine. But just as she took hold, my grip seemed to loosen, and the elephant slipped. It hit the polished floor with a sharp crack, shattering into a dozen pieces.

Bianca gasped, a high-pitched, theatrical sound. "Echo! How could you? That was my grandmother' s!" she sobbed, burying her face in Hazen' s shoulder.

"It was an accident," I said, my voice flat. My gaze met Hazen' s, daring him to believe her performance.

But he didn' t. "Accident? It looked pretty deliberate to me," Corina muttered, her eyes narrowing.

Others chimed in, their voices a chorus of condemnation. "You' re just jealous, Echo." "She didn' t mean anything by it." "You' re being unreasonable."

Hazen pushed Bianca gently behind him, stepping forward, his face a mask of anger. "Enough," he barked, silencing the room. He knelt, gathering the shattered pieces of jade, his movements careful, almost tender. He stood, holding the broken fragments. "Echo, apologize." His voice was a low, dangerous rumble.

I stared at him, at the shards of my past clutched in his hand. This shattered symbol. It was me.

"Apologize for what?" My voice was barely a whisper.

He took another step, his hand shooting out, grabbing my upper arm with a bruising force. "For hurting her. For breaking this. For making a scene." His eyes blazed, not with passion, but with a cold fury.

He was trying to intimidate me. To control me. The familiar weight of his power, once a comfort, now felt like a cage.

I met his gaze, unflinching. Then, with a sudden surge of strength, I ripped my arm free from his grasp. The air crackled with unspoken tension.

"I' m done apologizing," I said, my voice clear and cutting through the silence. "I' m done with all of this. I will not work with Bianca. Not anymore."

Hazen' s jaw dropped, a flicker of shock finally crossing his face. "What are you saying?"

"I' m saying I' m leaving this safe house. Tonight." I looked around the room, meeting their stunned and guilty gazes one by one. "And soon, I' ll be leaving Aegis. For good."