Page 67 of Eternal Craving

Sunaria’s brilliance was a terrifying force.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

We stood fifty feet or so outside the senatorial residence. Sunaria had stripped our architect and now wore his clothes. Arnold’s jacket concealed her curves.

“Easier to get about.” Sunaria twisted up her hair and poked it beneath her cap.

I’d dragged Arnold’s body into the mausoleum where we’d slept, petitioningThomas A. Haywood, aged 37,to watch over him.

I tried to fathom how taking his life was so natural, like how I’d imagine an animal might feel after a kill, as though we were privileged to choose who lived and who died, gifted with the ability to be another’s undoing.

Or perhaps we were cursed.

I stared at Sunaria. It was such a cruel trick for her to appear so alluring, so exquisitely bewitching, the moonlight reflecting off her dark locks, shimmering off her pale skin, lulling everyone, including me.

“After what Ricardo did to you,” she said, “you still want to rescue him?”

I studied the windows of the great house. “He’s a child. He had no idea what he was doing.”

“But…still.”

“He’s also my nephew.”

She pursed her lips. “Let’s deal with the senator first.”

“He’s my unfinished business.”

“And now you have the layout of the place in your head.”

I turned to her. “You think you’ll pass as a man?”

“I’ve done it before.”

Her attire convinced me, but her demeanor would have to change.

“I’m ready,” I said with a nod, trying to convince myself it was true.

“Stick to the plan.”

That had sounded like an order. I questioned whether I could follow it. Within moments, we reached the senatorial mansion’s roof. I peeked over the edge at the sheer drop, astounded that I’d just scaled a building.

No time for self-indulgence.

We pried open the loft door and entered.

“Felipe’s office, go,” she whispered.

I hesitated.

She frowned. “I’ll be fine.”

Stepping mindfully over the rafters, I proceeded ahead and quickly found the room, but when I turned to tell Sunaria, she was gone.

She was going through with it.

Peering down, I had a good view of Felipe’s office, and saw him sitting at his desk, scribing away. With all my will, I resisted the urge to descend and strangle him.

The painting had been replaced by a smaller, less significant portrait. He must have panicked when he’d discovered it was gone.