The Villain Who Stole Hearts
Chapter 133: You Call That a Threat?

Chapter 133: You Call That a Threat?

The next morning.

Veil was roused from sleep by the buzzing of his phone.

Still half-asleep, Blood Mandala fumbled for the phone at the head of the bed and shoved it into his hand with a groggy, annoyed murmur.

"I’m exhausted... Who the hell calls this early? Don’t they know you need rest?"

Veil glanced at the screen—Sierra. Without a second thought, he declined the call.

He powered off the phone and tossed it aside. "Ignore her. Go back to sleep."

He pulled the blanket over them, wrapped an arm around Blood Mandala, and shut his eyes again.

They slept straight through until afternoon. As Veil drifted toward consciousness, he caught the faint scent of food wafting through the air.

Eyes cracking open, he sat up lazily against the headboard and lit a cigarette.

Blood Mandala had already brought over a small folding table, setting it up by the bed. Several dishes were arranged on top, neatly plated.

Catching Veil watching her, cigarette in hand, Blood Mandala spoke with a hint of guilt.

"I ordered delivery. I don’t know how to cook. Just eat something, fill your stomach."

She was a professional killer—stab someone with a knife? No problem. Chop vegetables with one? No clue where to start.

So she had ordered a few dishes and transferred them to plates to make it look homemade. When caught, she fessed up honestly.

"It doesn’t matter who made it. The thought is what counts." Veil gave her a teasing smile. "Funny... I still remember how you used to pull a knife on me whenever we met, like you were ready to go down swinging. Now, look at you—letting me sleep in your home, and even feeding me after I wake up."

He crushed the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray, got out of bed, and reached for a piece of fish with his chopsticks—only to have her smack his hand away.

"Go wash your face and brush your teeth first. Or no food."

Veil raised an eyebrow. "You, a killer, care about hygiene?"

He’d always thought assassins didn’t sweat the details—spending days on a stakeout, living off scraps. Who cared about brushing their teeth?

Blood Mandala didn’t answer. She handed him a bottle of mouthwash, then used a wet towel to gently wipe the lipstick marks off his face.

Only after making sure his face was clean did she finally relax.

For some reason, she felt oddly embarrassed. That wasn’t like her. She wasn’t that kind of person. But last night, she had gone a little wild—throwing herself at Veil, kissing him over and over until his face was smeared with lipstick.

She swore to herself she would never let that happen again.

Totally unbecoming of someone ranked in the top three of the assassin hierarchy. That wasn’t her style.

She had standards. Pride.

Next time... absolutely, definitely... no more lipstick.

"Who was the genius that called this morning, anyway?" she asked, scooping a bowl of soup and placing it in front of Veil.

Veil took one look and started drinking without hesitation.

"Sierra. Who else? I’m guessing she just found out Caspian’s dead. Probably picked up on a clue somewhere and wants to stir trouble."

"Her again?" Blood Mandala frowned, clearly displeased.

Veil smirked. "What, thinking of taking her out?"

Blood Mandala shook her head. "Please. I’m a professional. I don’t just kill people for no reason. There’s gotta be a paycheck involved."

"Even me? I’d have to pay?"

He narrowed his eyes, trying to read her.

Blood Mandala replied coolly, "For others, I might make an exception. But Sierra... I don’t like her either, but she’s close to my sister. There’s a connection there."

Veil paused. "So you’re saying..."

She refilled his soup, speaking slowly. "It’ll cost extra."

Cough! Cough!

Veil nearly choked.

Blood Mandala rolled her eyes, seductive but exasperated.

"I know this stuff’s supposed to help your health, but don’t inhale it, jeez."

What should’ve been a relaxing meal turned into a full-on endurance test. Just because Veil had offhandedly complained about a sore back last night, he’d been force-fed five bowls of soup for his "kidneys."

After lunch, Blood Mandala began dressing—first in casual clothes, then prepping her night gear. She started inspecting her array of deadly tools hanging on the wall.

Veil was just about to leave when he glanced over and asked, "You’ve got a job tonight?"

"Mhmm." She didn’t even turn around. "I’ll tell my sister I’m stepping out to throw her off, then I’ll come back and deal with Sierra."

Veil nearly tripped. "Whoa, hold on! I never agreed to pay for that hit!"

Blood Mandala waved it off. "It’s on the house. Don’t panic." She picked up a sleek black outfit and gave him a look.

"As long as you come back tonight... I’d say it’s worth it."

Holy shit.

Even Veil—a certified villain—felt a little rattled.

Was she the real boss here?

She didn’t want money. She wanted him?

No wonder she’d force-fed him five bowls of "nourishing" soup.

Damn. This had been premeditated!

After spending another thirty minutes helping her calm down, Veil finally left the house.

It had just been a joke. Sierra had already taken the bait. Killing her now would ruin everything.

He stepped into the Bentley waiting outside. Kai was already behind the wheel, calm and focused as always, heading toward the address Sierra had sent.

...

The gated estate.

Sierra’s front door was wide open, as if she’d been waiting.

"You brought a bodyguard? What, afraid a little girl like me’s gonna hurt you?"

She sneered, glancing at Kai with clear displeasure.

Then she turned to Veil, eyes full of resentment.

"What? Too many people for you? Should I leave?" Veil asked, already standing.

"What’s the rush?" she snapped. "Feeling guilty? Or are you just mad you didn’t tie up the loose ends and now have to clean them up?"

Her tone was aggressive, her eyes burning with misplaced confidence—like she was the one in control.

Veil just chuckled, sank into the sofa, and crossed one leg over the other.

"You’re talking like you’ve got dirt on me. Go on. Don’t be shy. It’s just us here."

"You sure?" Sierra shot a look at Kai. "Not worried your secrets might get out?"

She was baiting him.

"You mean Caspian?" Veil smiled like she was a fool.

"Don’t tell me you think I had something to do with that?"

Sierra clenched her fists.

She had expected many reactions—anger, panic, threats.

But this? This indifference?

He looked like he didn’t give a damn.

"Veil, don’t play dumb! You think I don’t know? Caspian’s death wasn’t some coincidence! What are the odds? You screw him out of twelve billion, and right after, he just conveniently drops dead?

Even if you didn’t do it yourself, you’re connected!"

"And what do you want?" Veil replied casually, shooting a glance at Kai, who now looked unusually focused.

Most people would think Kai was bracing to strike Sierra.

But Veil knew better.

That wasn’t tension—that was attentiveness.

Kai wasn’t preparing to fight.

He was mentally taking notes—like a student waiting for the next bullet point.

"Apologize," Sierra snapped. "For everything you’ve done to me. Or I swear, I’ll take everything I know and hand it over to the police."

She leaned in closer. "Maybe your friends don’t care, but I know someone who will. You can play games with people like me, but if I bring her in, even your family background won’t protect you."

Veil tilted his head. "Someone full of justice, huh? Funny. Coming from you, it just sounds like idiocy."

He already knew who she meant—Harvey. Who else?

In the original plan, Sierra and Harvey were close. And now, to reclaim some twisted sense of dignity, she’d dragged Harvey into this mess?

How prepared of her.

"You think you’re invincible, Veil? You’re just a killer in a suit. For money, you’d ruin lives. You’re no better than the people you scheme against!"

Sierra stood, furious. Her chest heaved with emotion, her breathing ragged.

She was done waiting.

She pulled a walkie-talkie from beneath the couch and hit the button.

Moments later, a female bodyguard in plainclothes escorted Harvey into the room.

She was a former colleague of Harvey’s, now retired and hired by Sierra. Today, her job was to witness Veil’s fall from grace.

Before Veil had arrived, Sierra had instructed her guards to stall Harvey under the guise of "catching up."

Now, with Veil refusing to confess, she was going all in.

"Harvey, I’m glad you’re here," Sierra said sweetly, then turned serious.

"I have this friend. Comes from a wealthy family, first in line to inherit everything. Then suddenly, she drops dead. And her husband transfers all her assets to his private accounts. Doesn’t that sound suspicious?"

Harvey raised an eyebrow, then relaxed. That didn’t sound like Veil. He wasn’t even married.

He nodded. "That does sound suspicious. Could be foul play."

"But her husband’s got a powerful background," Sierra added anxiously.

Harvey’s expression hardened. "And? Background means nothing. If he committed a crime, he’ll pay. Do you have any leads? I’ll make sure justice is served."

Sierra froze.

Leads?

She had none.

It was a made-up story—something she had rehearsed to scare Veil into submission.

Now the story was done, but Veil? Unmoved.

She panicked.

She never meant to send Veil to prison. She just wanted an apology. Maybe make him promise to stop screwing with her.

"Anything else?" Harvey pressed. "You can trust me. I’ll protect your identity."

Sierra stammered.

"This how you play it?" Veil sneered. "You’re pathetic. Can’t even follow through on a threat?"

He stood up, cold smile on his face.

"Fine. I’ll say it for you."

"Caspian’s death? Yeah, that was me. I conned him out of twelve billion, buried him in debt, then sent someone to finish the job. Watched it happen with my own eyes.

He didn’t even get a chance to scream. Just one clean stab to the heart."

Veil exhaled, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Honestly, kind of disappointed. Should’ve told the killer to take her time."