A former Special Forces operative, living a quiet civilian life, discovers a stranger has secretly entered her home and vanished without a trace. Now, she must use her lethal skills to hunt a ghost who knows her every move and threatens to dismantle her life from the inside out.
Maya Ashwood is done with her past. After a decorated and dangerous career in Special Forces, she has built a fortress of solitude-a sleek, modern, and entirely secure home nestled in the remote woods of the Pacific Northwest. Her life is quiet, anonymous, and safe. Or so she thinks.
The illusion shatters when a routine check of her video doorbell footage reveals the impossible: a man letting himself into her house the day before. A man who, according to her records, never left.
Plunged back into a world of hyper-vigilance and tactical thinking, Maya discovers the intrusion is not random. It is a message from a ghost from her past, a brilliant and sadistic puppet master named Ethan Pierce, who was the architect of the very program that created her. Pierce has laid out a twisted game of psychological warfare, using Maya's home, her memories, and her deepest fears as pieces on his chessboard.
Forced to confront the trauma she has fought so hard to bury, Maya must unravel the mystery of her final, disastrous mission to understand what Pierce wants. With every clue, another piece of her memory returns, but so does the danger. From the treacherous cliffs of the San Juan Islands to the fortified armories of a military base, Maya is pushed to her absolute limit. She is no longer just a target; she is a player in a deadly game where the prize is her life and the stakes are her sanity.
An Excerpt from The Echo in the Walls
She scrolled forward.
3:47 PM: Motion detected. Person detected.
Her breath hitched.
It wasn't a porch pirate. It wasn't anyone she knew.
The man who approached her front door was unnervingly average. He wore a simple grey jacket, jeans, and nondescript sneakers. No logos, no distinguishing features. He could have been a utilities worker, a lost tourist, anyone. But he didn't move like a lost tourist. He moved with a quiet, fluid confidence that set every one of Maya's long-dormant alarms screaming.
He didn't knock. He didn't try the handle. He stopped at the door, his face turned slightly away from the camera, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out not a key, but a thin, white plastic card. He swiped it over the electronic lock.
The lock, a top-of-the-line magnetic system she'd installed herself, chirped softly. The light turned from red to green.
The man paused. For a fraction of a second, he turned his head and looked directly at the doorbell camera. It wasn't a glance. It was a look of acknowledgment. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips, a look that said, I see you. I know you're watching.
Then, he opened her door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him.
