Chapter 1: Birth and Blood
It was a cold and blissful evening; the merry celebration of the New Year intertwined with the first birthday of their child. The cold breeze rattled the windows while the heavy downpour screamed against the roof, as though the universe itself was sending a warning. Yet, nothing could interrupt this moment of happiness.
A small family of three sat together at the dinner table, singing songs of adoration to their infant, who cheered them on with innocent laughter, unaware of the significance of the moment. Softly, the couple held the child’s tiny hands and together sliced the edge of a brown honey chocolate cake.
It was an adorable, unforgettable moment for the Philips family, a small yet deeply emotional celebration. But just as they were finishing the last bites of the cake, a loud ring pierced the air from the sitting room. It was the landline.
Surprised and uneasy, Juliet rose from the table. They hadn’t expected any calls not out here, miles away from the city, in their quiet farmhouse on the countryside. Moving cautiously, she picked up the receiver.
“Hello? Please, who’s on the line?” she asked politely, her voice trembling.
A troubled voice answered. It was her brother-in-law, Timothy. He urgently asked to speak with his brother.
“Hold on,” she said softly, then called upstairs, her voice shaking. “Drew! Andrew!”
“Yes, honey?” came his reply.
“It’s Timothy,” she said.
At once, Andrew sprinted down the stairs, snatching the phone from her hand with little gentleness. His expression hardened; anger flickered in his eyes.
“Why would you call this house? I told you to stay out of this family’s life!” he snapped.
Timothy’s voice came back, strained with fear. “We don’t have time for your sentimental bullshit right now, Andrew, they’re coming.”
Andrew frowned. “Who’s coming?”
“The Committee, brother. They’re after you.”
Disbelief washed over Andrew. He gave a bitter laugh. “That’s impossible. The Committee can’t come after me. We had a deal sealed with blood. Whatever game you’re playing, it’s not going to work.”
“The deal is off!” Timothy shouted. “They burned the seal and made you their top target. I’m not lying to you. They know where you are. You need to take your wife and child and leave. Now!”
Fear flooded Andrew’s chest, not for himself, but for his wife and son. He ran upstairs, checked on his infant, and hid him inside one of the cupboards. He had no weapon; he’d buried that violent past long ago. But it seemed his past had found him again.
Panicked, he reached for the first thing he could find, a Japanese steel knife on the kitchen slab. But before his hand touched it, a deafening explosion sent him flying across the room. His head smashed against the glass-ceramic table, nearly knocking him unconscious. Through blurred vision and the smoke from a C4 blast that tore through the kitchen, he saw shadowy figures three, maybe four men emerging from the haze.
Juliet, half-conscious and coughing from the fumes, cried out, “Drew! Look out!”
One of the men kicked Andrew hard in the jaw, then dragged him up by the collar. “Vengeance has found you again, Mr. Philip,” a cold voice said.
Andrew’s blood ran cold. Through the haze, he recognized the voice. “Dimitri…” he whispered.
He turned just in time to see a bullet tear through Juliet’s forehead.
“No!” he screamed, his voice echoing through the burning house. Tears of pain and fury blurred his sight.
A sudden noise outside drew Dimitri’s attention. Andrew seized the chance. Grabbing the Japanese steel blade, he drove it into Dimitri’s leg, just below the knee. Dimitri screamed in agony and fled through the door.
Andrew staggered to his feet and turned toward the sound of the approaching car. His heart sank and then lifted slightly. It was Timothy.
Timothy, a skilled fighter and weapons master, had already fought through the small army of assassins to reach the house. When he entered the living room, he froze at the sight of Andrew cradling Juliet’s lifeless body.
“I, I’m so sorry,” Timothy said, his voice trembling.
“It’s not your fault, Tim,” Andrew murmured, eyes hollow. “You warned me, but I didn’t listen. The illusion of a perfect life blinded me. People like us don’t get that. I should’ve known my past would cost me everything.”
“Where’s the baby?” Timothy asked urgently.
“In the cupboard, left wing, beside the sink,” Andrew answered weakly.
Timothy rushed into the kitchen, flames now creeping across the walls. He opened the cupboard, lifted the crying infant into his arms, and whispered, “You’re adorable, little one.”
Then a gunshot echoed.
Timothy’s eyes widened. He slipped out the back door, placed the baby gently in the passenger seat of his black Audi, and turned back toward the house.
Inside, Dimitri was gone, but his brutal enforcer, Aegus, remained. The giant assassin stood over Andrew’s lifeless body.
Before Timothy could react, a crushing blow slammed into his abdomen, sending him flying back into the kitchen. Gasping, he drew his silenced Glock and aimed. Aegus charged. Timothy fired, hitting him in the leg and stomach. The man roared, swinging again. Timothy dodged, slammed a fist into Aegus’s wounded side, and drew a pocketknife, stabbing into the brute’s hand.
With a howl of pain, Aegus released him and Timothy fired three shots into his skull. The giant collapsed, dead.
Panting, Timothy stumbled to Andrew’s side. His brother’s voice was faint. “Jason,” he whispered.
“What?” Timothy asked.
“Jason… Jason Nikolai Philip. That’s his name. My son’s name. Make sure he knows.”
Those were his last words. Andrew’s hand fell limp beside his wife’s.
With grief burning in his chest, Timothy lifted his brother’s body one last time, then turned away as the house began to collapse. Outside, the baby’s pale blue eyes glistened with tears as he murmured softly, “Ma… ma… pa… pa…”
Timothy gazed at him and whispered, “You’re going to be something great one day, kid. Great… and dangerous.”
