Mutant Assassin (Philip Browne Series Book 1)

Book summary

In a world where allegiances are tested and destinies intertwine, "Mutant Assassin" follows Philip Browne, a scarred assassin, as he's tasked with protecting Ava Hayes from the clutches of the infamous Zane Zadiach. Torn between duty and affection, Philip faces inner demons, external threats, and tempestuous emotions while battling for their lives. Choices must be made, battles fought, and destinies realized in this gripping tale of danger and passion.

Excerpt from Mutant Assassin (Philip Browne Series Book 1)

The silent ones are the fiercest ones. He had heard that phrase numerous times since he was born. Those words assisted in carving out the unknown person that his cruel father predicted but couldn’t comprehend.

Holding his backpack tight, Philip strode through the halls, calculating the next route to take to reach his locker. The three tall boys ahead of him hadn’t noticed his presence, but no doubt they would catch a glimpse of him before entering the class. He wanted to avoid getting upset, even as he recalled absorbing the harsh strokes from his father the previous night. Tears had streamed down his red face, but there was no strength left in him to wail.

Discovering that there were no escape routes for him, he walked stealthily, eyes set on the locker, while ignoring the chattering of the boys. The other students who passed by, each talking with their mates, did not seem to notice what was revolving in his head. Reaching his foreseen destination, he opened his locker and searched for his rectangular box of pens. It was somewhere there; he knew it. Surprisingly, it wasn’t. There was this conviction in his mind that he had left it in the locker a day ago, but the reality was that it was nowhere to be found.

For heaven's sake, he didn’t want to turn around and confront the boys behind him, because they might be innocent. Contained in that box was a pen, among other pens, the last gift his mother gave to him before she died. He carried it everywhere he went during each lesson and kept it in the locker whenever school had closed for the day. It was possible that someone broke into his locker and noticed the box, thinking something shiny was in it. His heart rate steadily climbed higher as he heard pronounced footsteps behind him.

“Are you looking for this?” Wisdom’s voice resounded in Philip’s ears. He didn’t want to know what the boy was referring to, but he wanted to pretend to care.

Philip turned at once and instantly felt the impact of the sturdy punch on his nasal ridge. His eyes went blank for a second, hidden from the brightness of the environment. The intense whistling sounds disrupted his hearing system. The red fluid that he despised seeing began to trickle down his nose. Withdrawing from Wisdom, he bent down to touch his painful nose with a shaky hand. Before he could soothe the injury, the heartless boy threw the opened box on the ground, and pens scattered.

He watched Wisdom bend down and select that special pen from his mother. “This is it, right?”

The world had stopped revolving for him at that moment when Wisdom dropped the pen on the floor and stepped on it forcefully, destroying the pen instantly. The other students had stopped to watch the drama; some giggled, and the others were silent. Their reactions didn’t bother Philip; he was aghast by the soft, cruel move made by Wisdom. Furious tears traveled down his eyes as he looked up at Wisdom. The other two boys wore triumphant smiles on their faces, filling Philip with profound hate.

“Give it back,” Philip uttered. The fact that he actually meant it gave him the courage to take a step toward Wisdom with teary eyes.

Looking shocked at the type of intimidation he was receiving, Wisdom let out a soft laugh. “What do you wanna do? Beat me up?”

“Give it back.” The pain was real and driving him insane. Holding it within him was taking up too much space and energy. Not long after he uttered those words, Wisdom attacked with another punch. This time not on his nose, but in his belly. Though it didn’t have as much effect as the blow to his nose, Philip couldn’t resist the urge to cough up blood.

“Say it again?” Wisdom spat out in a menacing tone. Philip had no doubt that if he dared say anything again, he might be the victim of a vicious group attack. Talking was not the way of his father; violence was.

Notwithstanding the pain, Philip grabbed one pen that had rolled to his side and stood up, wiping leftover blood from his lower lip. Since words couldn’t be spoken, at least his actions could be heard. Recalling the lessons he had learned from his father about accurate hits, Philip lunged at Wisdom willfully and dug the pen into his eye.

The loud screech from Wisdom didn’t move Philip one bit as he withdrew the pen and stabbed his right shoulder with it again. The teachers who had arrived screamed in horror as they separated the two, making him leave the pen in Wisdom’s shoulder. Blood splattered everywhere, especially as it flowed freely from Wisdom’s eye, even as he cried and tried to cover it.

Take him to the principal’s office now! The head teacher bawled. Philip hated that they chose to send him to the principal’s office while offering their special attention and care to a bully. At least he didn’t regret anything, and he didn’t care if they sent him to the juvenile detention center or expelled him from the godforsaken school.

When the male teacher led him into the principal’s office, it felt like stepping into a world of asinine statements. “You, of all people, have just desecrated the school ground. You’ve already cost us our image, Philip,” the principal said, standing and approaching him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Philip held his breath, determined not to say a word to the man.

“Have you suddenly become mute?” The principal’s eyes were wide open, as if ready to beat someone to death, but Philip kept his mouth shut. In addition to the unwarranted attack he had received from Wisdom, the principal slapped him across the face with considerable force. “I won’t send you to juvie, but I will make sure news of your actions here reaches other schools. Your father will surely be pleased with the killer he’s raised.”

Philip felt the burning sensation on the side of his face where he’d been slapped, but speaking up wouldn’t solve anything. Being a killer was better than being treated like a weak victim.

David Hayes sighed as he sat down. The workload that afternoon wasn’t overwhelming, but an intangible burden weighed heavily inside him. Standing up, he moved to the window and marveled at the view. An unsettling premonition settled in him, a dread that misfortune would soon befall his family.

“Mr. David,” Mina, his personal assistant, called.

“Yes, Mina?” He turned to face her after closing the window.

“Your daughter…” she began.

“Don’t mince words, Mina. What is it?” David interjected sharply, feeling no need for patience.

“I received a call from someone at her college. They said she fainted during her lesson.”

David caught his breath, struggling to remain composed. “Prepare the car.”

“Yes, sir.” Mina left promptly. As she departed, David swiftly dialed a number on his phone.

His drive to the hospital was a blur of distressing thoughts. Once there, he hurried to his daughter’s bedside.

“Her body temperature was extremely high when she arrived, and her breathing was irregular. We’ve managed to stabilize her. When she was admitted, her condition was grave,” the doctor informed.

“What do you think is wrong with her?”

“We’ve run tests, but they’ve revealed nothing. The symptoms are evident, but the cause remains elusive.”

David nodded, brushing a hand over his daughter’s forehead. “Thank you, doctor.”

“My pleasure, Mr. David.” The doctor departed, softly closing the door behind him.

David gently held his daughter’s hand, kissing it before setting it by her side. Memories of her birth surged. She had been born in a dire circumstance; her mother died just before her birth. Doctors had performed an emergency procedure to save her. Being alive and well inside her deceased mother was nothing short of a miracle. From that moment, David had lavished her with unparalleled love and protection.

“You’ll be alright,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Later, back at home, David slumped into a chair in his expansive living room. His past pursuits of wealth and romance flashed through his mind. After the tragic loss of his wife, his sole focus shifted to their daughter. The immense love he felt was mirrored in the opulence of his living room, adorned with portraits and fragrant flowers. Though he had initially planned a simpler abode, he had built a grand duplex, all for his daughter. Yet with all his riches, he was powerless against this mysterious ailment.

“Prepare my bath,” he instructed a servant, who nodded and scurried off.

Recently, David had been reluctant to seek a cure for his daughter's condition. Now, however, it was imperative.

A disturbing dream startled him awake. It was the same nightmare he had endured for two weeks, each more vivid than the last. Disregarding these visions wasn’t an option; they were part and parcel of his seer's gift. He was compelled to seek solutions.

Recalling an unfinished conversation with a man from another city, David grabbed his phone and dialed.

“Where can I find him?” David inquired, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Why do you want him? The guy isn’t human,” a voice replied skeptically.

“I believe he has the answers I’m seeking. I can’t continue like this, Tyler.”

“Alright, I’ll connect you. But remember, you asked for this.”

“Just send the information quickly,” David responded, hanging up. Desperation colored his thoughts; he didn’t care about the nature of his informant, only the knowledge they possessed.