Sundown Motel Book Novels & Stories

Then, at last we saw the bright neon sign of the motel. Silver Pine Motel. The light was weak, showing this was as local as it gets. “Stay close,” he murmured. The cringe smell of bleach hit me the moment we stepped into the motel. There was a woman sitting behind the counter, around her mid-forties, wearing a cardigan. She looked up as the door chimed. Her eyes flicked over me, lingering for a moment longer, before following Damien’s voice. “Evening,” Damien said evenly. “We need a room, just for the night.”

Tears stream down my face as I realize I cannot get away from him. I hear the sound of Maxim unzipping his pants… Nikolai We arrive at the motel, located on the outskirts of the city, that Alexei discovered on the dark web. I can see that it is a run-down, dilapidated, two-story building. The paint on the outside of the small motel is peeling, and the windows are covered in grime and dust. The neon sign on the roof is barely visible and flickers erratically, advertising vacancies in a feeble attempt to attract customers.

"And then, we’re going to that bridge. But we’re doing it my way." The motel was a dump called The Primrose. The neon sign hummed with a sick, flickering yellow light that made the melting slush in the parking lot look like bile. I kept the SUV idling for a minute, scanning the street. The black sedan was gone for now, but I could still feel the phantom weight of it behind us. "Stay in the car. Keep the doors locked," I told Zia. My voice was tight, the kind of gravelly tone I only used when a swell was too big and someone was about to drown.

I made it two steps toward the door before Calder’s voice rolled after me, dark and promising: “Run if you want. You know we’ll follow.” The words lodged deep, sparking that dangerous thrill low in my belly. I hated myself for it. I pushed through the diner's door into the cool night air, trying to steady my shaking hands. But when I looked up, all four of them were already there - rising from their seats, stalking after me, wolves prowling just under their skin. And in their eyes was no patience left. No more waiting. Across the road, neon buzzed faintly: Sunset Motel. Peeling paint, a flickering sign, but right now it looked like salvation.

The shutter of the cargo truck been open and a figure jumped off. "Where you off to, man?" a dude asked. Turning his face around he answered, "Is there any motel or a lodge to live?" The man pointed towards the building and he gave a nod. He reached there at the sunset, where the sun was giving its last horizons and the sky became clear. "Hey, Weston!" a man called out and turned around at once. "I've booked a penthouse for you..." he spoke pleasantly. "Oh thank God, David." They reached to the penthouse and both of them carries the coffin to there.

His gratitude toward Bandit and the Warriors would never stop and he knew at some point, he’d give them his complete allegiance. The motel outside the borders of Reading was closer to Pottstown than it was to Reading, but it would hold water with his story of not wanting his club involved with personal business. The motel sat off the two-lane highway that bled out of Reading, its red neon sign flickering against a line of trees that looked half-dead in the weak light.

Where could I possibly vanish to where his shadow wouldn't follow? Finally, the raw, primal need for shelter, for even a fleeting moment of respite from the relentless terror, outweighed the paralyzing fear of being discovered. I veered off the main road, the tires crunching on gravel as I pulled into the deserted parking lot of the small, rundown motel, its neon sign flickering erratically, casting a sickly yellow glow on the peeling paint. "Starlight Motel" it proclaimed, the "L" and "T" stubbornly refusing to illuminate. It was a foolish risk, a beacon in the darkness, but I was running on fumes, both physically and emotionally, my judgment clouded by exhaustion and fear.

CHAPTER 127 MAX’S POINT OF VIEW The air was heavy as I stepped out of the car, the faint smell of gasoline and mildew from the rundown motel wafting through the air. The building was as unremarkable as I had expected faded paint, cracked windows, and a neon sign that flickered weakly in the dim light of the evening. But this place, insignificant as it seemed, held the answers I had been searching for.

Blair noticed and covered them with her own, holding them down. When the car slowed, I lifted my head. A small motel sat on the corner. Its paint peeled, and the neon sign above buzzed and flickered. Some of the letters didn’t light up. The Uber stopped. Adam paid the driver and opened the door. The night air outside felt colder here. Blair helped me out first, her arm still around me. Adam walked close on my other side. The motel smelled faintly of damp and old coffee. The neon sign snapped every few seconds, the sound sharp in the quiet street.

light was flickering, but it was a taxi. I raised my hand. The car pulled up instantly, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. "Where to?" the driver asked. He was wearing a dark hoodie, the strings pulled tight around his face, and a pair of sunglasses despite the fading light. His voice was muffled, a low growl that didn't quite match the professional tone of a city driver. "The Sunset Motel on Highway 4," I said, opening the back door and ushering Liam inside. "You got it," the man said.