Chapter 253: Hurry And Get This Done
When Levi came to, the acrid stench of ammonia clung to his nostrils as he stirred from unconsciousness. His mouth was dry, his tongue thick, and each breath scraped his throat like sandpaper. His limbs felt like lead, deadweight shackled to a body that barely responded. His vision swam with disjointed images—Ken Stuart, blurred faces, a car door slamming, and finally, Anya’s face: a halo of dark hair, crimson lips curled into a triumphant smile.
As if from a distance he heard voices.
"Why is he awake? Isn’t he supposed to be out for a whole hour at least?"
"I sprayed it directly in his face, I don’t know what happened but we have to hurry and get this done."
"Welcome back to the land of the living, darling," came her voice, soft and mocking, as if she were welcoming him to some twisted dreamscape.
Levi’s eyelids lifted slowly, every blink a fight. A dingy yellow light flickered overhead, its hum loud in the silence. The room swam into view—a motel room, grime embedded in the peeling wallpaper, the carpet blotched with years of spills, and the air thick with stale cigarette smoke and something more pungent, something chemical.
He was sprawled awkwardly on a sagging bed, his blazer missing, shirt partially unbuttoned, belt loosened. A slow, crawling sense of dread began to bloom in his gut.
"Where... am I?" he rasped, but the words came out slurred, half-choked. "What the f**k have you done to me?"
Anya leaned in, her silhouette haloed by the weak light, the scent of her perfume nauseatingly sweet. "Somewhere private," she whispered, her fingers brushing his jaw with calculated intimacy. "Just you and me... and it’s not like we’ve never been alone together."