Villain’s Favorite 215

Chapter 215 Kill Them 

Finished 

“I’ll pay double!” the man screamed at the top of his lungs when Wendy didn’t respond. “You’re from the Silent Archive, right? I know that’s who’s behind this. Please, I’m begging you. Triple, quadruple, whatever you want, I’ll pay it all!” 

A living wealthy man was worth considerably more than a dead one, and the Silent Archive understood that perfectly. 

The problem was that Wendy had no affiliation with the Silent Archive whatsoever. 

“You really have no idea how to raise a child,” she said, looking down at the man crumpling toward the floor, her expression carrying a mild, displeased edge. “It makes me rather irritated.” 

The man’s legs gave out entirely. He slid down the wall and onto the floor, murmuring over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. 

“Was it my kid who offended you? I’ll discipline him myself, I swear it. I’ll make him apologize properly. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Anything…” 

“I’m afraid that ship has sailed, sir.” 

Wendy’s smile was warm and perfectly pleasant. “Try to do better in the next life.” 

A single shot rang out, and then there was nothing but silence. 

Wendy looked down at the man on the floor. 

His eyes were still open, his expression locked into that final, twisted contortion of grief and desperation. 

She looked away without any particular feeling, pulled out her phone, took a photo of herself alongside the scene, and sent it to her husband. 

She had no choice. 

Without photographic proof, knowing how particular Ned was about documentation, there was no chance they’d see a single cent from the contract. 

Wendy slipped out into the tail end of the night, tucking the gun into her shopping bag with a light, unhurried step, looking for all the world like someone returning from a late-evening errand. 

In her earlier years, the underground had called her the Banshee. Every place she went, she left ruin in her wake. 

On her way back, she and Raymond were still chatting casually about it over the phone. 

Wendy threw out the complaint almost as an afterthought. “Why was my old codename so ugly?” 

“The Banshee? How is that ugly? Birds are adorable.” 

“Really?” 

The name was considerably more terrifying than adorable, but Raymond’s expression didn’t flicker. 

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Chapter 215 Kill Them 

“Absolutely.” 

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Finn.bed 

He was on the phone with one hand and scrolling through the crime scene photos Wendy had sent him with the other. 

He looked past the bodies arranged at various angles throughout the room and fixed his attention on Wendy’s face in the photograph, soft and lovely as ever. He stared at it for several seconds before doing something genuinely unprecedented. He posted on social media. 

The caption read, “She’s this gentle even while working. I’m a lucky man.” 

Raymond currently had zero friends in the conventional sense. 

His former colleagues had been physically removed from the equation some time ago. 

The Silent Archive’s finely tuned intelligence networks had prompted every sharp-eyed contractor to quietly remove themselves from his contact list. 

But social media accounts were a different matter entirely, and Raymond so rarely posted anything personal that the novelty was irresistible. 

An assortment of contractors liked the post and flooded the comments. “Living your best life as always, man.” 

The two boys played their game deep into the night and eventually drifted off right there on the sofa, boneless and oblivious. 

The adults were otherwise occupied, so Maya boiled some pasta in the morning and called them both over 

to eat. 

With the birthday behind them, everyone scattered back to their respective business. Her parents, in particular, were deeply committed to their current project. 

Within a single week, every news channel became impossible to scroll past without encountering another report. Television and phone screens alike were flooded with footage and headlines covering the violent deaths of executives and upper-level figures across multiple major corporations. 

One commenter online joked that the contract killer industry must be rushing to hit their year-end quotas. 

The post collected thousands of likes. 

For ordinary people, wealthy casualties inspired very little sympathy. For the wealthy themselves, the wave of deaths triggered something close to genuine panic. Black-market rates for private security and hired protection skyrocketed practically overnight, and a handful of Maya’s classmates sent her careful, probing messages asking whether she knew anything about the string of high-profile deaths. 

Maya told them all she had no idea. 

During this same stretch of time, Raymond kept posting to his social media, one photo after another from Wendy’s ongoing work, each one more shameless than the last. 

His absolute devotion was not even slightly subtle. 

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Chapter 215 Kill Them 

One afternoon, Maya finally had to ask. “Are you actually her biggest fan, Dad? Like professionally?” 

Every single time Wendy was working, Raymond wore the expression of a man watching his favorite performer take the stage. 

He smiled with complete, unclouded openness. “Evidently.” 

The first time his heart had moved was the day Wendy saved him. 

She’d been standing with her back to him, gun in hand, calling him a useless waste of space. 

Frushed 

The ends of her hair had swayed lightly with the motion, and something about that had settled somewhere inside him that he’d never quite gotten back. 

As the year drew to a close, with her parents absorbed in their ongoing campaign, Maya and Alfred made several trips back to the Clark estate together for specialized training. 

Alfred was turning eight this year. 

Once the new year arrived, he’d be dropped into the survival culling. 

Maya was a year younger, but Philbert had decided she could participate early, without sparing a single thought for how a seven-year-old was supposed to survive being stranded on an island. 

To keep Maya from being eliminated the moment her feet hit the ground, Philbert made a habit of sending both her and Alfred into the mountain range behind the estate to practice. 

“Mountain range behind the estate” was doing a lot of work in that description. It was, in reality, a sprawling stretch of continuous wilderness, complete with running streams and sheer cliff faces. 

The first night she was dropped in and left to manage on her own, Maya had been genuinely unsettled. That feeling lasted exactly one week. 

She adapted to it with startling ease and soon made a habit of locating a suitable cave and curling up inside it to sleep. 

And so she settled into a thoroughly natural, cheerfully primitive existence, with the sky as her ceiling and the earth as her floor. 

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