Chapter 4

Evelyn Compton POV:

The world swam back into focus in jagged, agonizing bursts of pain. My head throbbed with a relentless rhythm, each beat a hammer blow against my skull. My eyes fluttered open, struggling against a suffocating darkness, and then snapped shut as a wave of nausea washed over me.

My wrists burned. My ankles ached. I tried to move, but thick, cold restraints bit into my skin. I was bound, spreadeagled, to a metal chair. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate for flight.

The air was heavy, metallic, smelling of disinfectant and fear. A single, harsh light bulb hummed overhead, casting stark shadows across the concrete walls. This was a black site. An Aegis interrogation room. And I was the prisoner.

The door hissed open, and a figure stepped in, silhouetted against the dim hallway. My vision cleared just enough to recognize the broad shoulders, the unyielding posture. Hazen.

"What the hell is this, Hazen?!" I snarled, my voice hoarse, raw with anger and disbelief. "What kind of sick game are you playing?"

He ignored my question, his face a cold, unreadable mask. "Bianca' s diagnosis came back," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Severe PTSD, acute anxiety, and a debilitating trauma response. All exacerbated by your... aggressive behavior."

My blood ran cold. He was blaming me. For everything. "That' s a lie! She' s faking it! She' s manipulating you!" I struggled against the restraints, their bite intensifying.

His eyes, cold and distant, met mine. "You violated Aegis protocol, Echo. Multiple times. You publicly assaulted a fellow operative. You refused direct orders. You attempted to sabotage a mission. And now, you' ve caused significant psychological damage to an asset we have invested heavily in."

"An asset? Is that what she is to you? A pawn in your game?" My voice cracked. The pain in my head intensified, a searing fire.

"As the head of Aegis operations, it is my duty to ensure the stability and security of this organization," he continued, his voice chillingly professional. "And you, Echo, have become a threat to that stability."

The door opened again, and two hulking figures in dark uniforms entered, their faces impassive. Executioners. My breath hitched.

Hazen held up a data pad, his thumb hovering over the screen. "The tribunal has convened. Your sentence has been passed." His thumb pressed down. A digital signature. A death warrant.

My entire body trembled, not from fear, but from a profound, agonizing disbelief. "Hazen..." My voice was a broken whisper. "How could you? After everything... after all these years..."

He didn' t answer. He simply turned, his back to me, and walked out of the room. The heavy metal door hissed shut behind him, plunging me into a chilling silence, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the overhead light.

The executioners moved. One of them, a man with cold, dead eyes, stepped forward, a sneer on his lips. "Looks like the mighty Echo has finally hit her limit. Who knew a little girl could bring down Aegis' s top dog?"

My jaw clenched. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of a scream.

A cold, metallic device was strapped to my head, wires attached to my temples. A low thrum filled the air, growing in intensity. Then, the pain hit. It wasn't physical. It was a searing, agonizing assault on my mind, like a thousand needles piercing my brain, pulling apart the very fabric of my thoughts. My body spasmed uncontrollably, arching against the restraints, every muscle tightening, every nerve screaming in protest.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting blood, forcing back the cry that clawed at my throat. I would not break. I would not give them the pleasure. The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of blinding white light and excruciating agony.

When it finally stopped, the silence was deafening. My body was a limp, trembling mess, my muscles quivering, my head pounding with a dull, persistent ache. They unstrapped me, and I slid to the floor, a heap of broken humanity. They dragged me out, my limbs useless, and threw me into a dark, confined space. A solitary confinement cell.

I lay there in the cold, unyielding darkness, curled into a fetal position, for what felt like an eternity. The only sound was the frantic pounding of my own heart, a drumbeat of despair.

The next morning, the door clanged open, and light flooded in, blinding me. I shielded my eyes, blinking against the sudden brightness. Hazen stood there, his face still grim, but a sliver of something akin to concern in his eyes.

I pushed past him, stumbling out of the cell, my legs weak and trembling. My head throbbed, a dull ache that seemed to underscore the emptiness inside me.

"Echo, wait," he said, reaching for my arm.

I flinched away, my gaze cold. "Don' t touch me."

He dropped his hand, his shoulders slumping. "I... I didn' t want to do this, Echo. But you left me no choice. Your behavior... it was unacceptable. Bianca... she' s still very fragile."

"Her fragility is your weakness, Hazen," I retorted, my voice flat, emotionless. "And it will be your undoing."

"I' ve taken over your current assignments," he continued, ignoring my words. "Until you can get yourself back in line."

Just then, from somewhere down the hall, a high-pitched shriek echoed. Bianca.

Hazen' s head snapped up, his eyes widening in alarm. All concern, all pretense of explanation, vanished. He turned and sprinted down the hall, once again leaving me, discarded, in the wake of Bianca' s manufactured crisis.

I walked to the Aegis administration terminal, my movements stiff, my mind strangely clear. I accessed my remaining accounts, transferring the last of my available funds to the offshore account Alston had provided. It wasn't much, but it was enough to start over.

I looked at the screen, then at the empty corridors of Aegis. The place that had been my home, my family, my entire life, now felt like a prison. My spirit was bruised, my body aching, but my resolve was unshaken. I would leave. I would truly leave this time.

I made my way to the designated rendezvous point for the Clandestine Tech Solutions memory wipe procedure. The clinic was sterile, cold, humming softly with unseen machinery. The doctor, a gaunt woman with detached eyes, explained the process again.

"The procedure is irreversible, Ms. Compton. We will target specific neural pathways, effectively erasing all personal memories from the age of eighteen onwards. You will retain your core skills, your instincts, your general knowledge, but your personal history will be a blank slate."

"I understand," I said, my voice steady. There was no hesitation. No regret. None of the dramatic sadness one might expect from someone erasing their past. Only a profound, desperate need for peace.

I lay on the cold operating table, the device settling over my head. My eyes fluttered shut. I felt a strange sensation, like a part of my mind, a heavy, painful weight, being gently lifted, then yanked away. The images of Hazen, Bianca, Corina, the years of training, the missions, the love, the betrayal-they flickered, fractured, then dissolved into shimmering dust.

The faces became nameless. The voices, whispers. The pain, a distant echo. Then, nothing. Just a vast, empty expanse, clean and quiet.