Page 22 of Arran's Obsession

She was already moving away, her brown hair swinging in a high ponytail and her dress tight, like the other woman’s had been. “Didn’t you read the rules? We’re here until it’s over. They won’t open the doors until all of us have been claimed.”

“Wait,” I begged. From my pocket, I pulled out my phone.

The woman’s brown eyes widened, and she hurried back over, her hands out. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t bring a phone in here. Put it in the lockers before someone sees.”

She snatched my wrist and tugged me into the changing room. Opening a locker, she took my phone and placed it inside. “Put your bag in as well. And take that necklace off if you don’t want it broken.”

I obeyed automatically, undoing the simple pendant that once belonged to my mother, the urgency infectious.

“You’re lucky the cameras aren’t on yet. It’s cardinal sin one-oh-one to bring a phone in here.” She stepped back and peered over her shoulder. Like the other woman, she was barefoot.

My sense of unease exploded into a full-on panic, my energy drink rush fuelling a paranoia I was beginning to think real. For some reason, I fixated on that last detail among all the wealth of information. “Where are your shoes?”

The American grinned and hopped on the spot. “Believe me, it’s better to be barefoot. You can run faster. Make it a better game. Really make them chase you down.”

“What am I running from?”

“Oh, that’s good. They are going to eat that sweet and innocent attitude right up. Listen, we’ve got a minute or two before the siren. I need to hide. No point in making this easy. You should do the same.”

“Hide?” I breathed.

“There’s twenty of them to our five. If you make it easy, that’s a fucking waste. Aim for the captain’s office if you’re stuck for a starting place. See you on the other side.”

With a final grin, she was gone.

I’d fucked up.

Certainty rushed with my blood in my veins. Taking a fast breath, I kicked off my shoes and sprinted back down the corridor, thumping on the door. “Let me out,” I yelled. “It’s a mistake. I’m not meant to be here.”

No answer came. No sound but the thrum of my pulse in my ears.

I tried again, yelling at the top of my voice. Still nothing.

A siren pierced the air. My heart all but leapt into my mouth. The time was up. I couldn’t get out. My only chance was to hide.

Chapter 8

Arran

Water rushed, the river in full flow beneath us and our man of the moment.

Shade pulled a needle from the neck of the rapist piece of shit we’d picked up this evening, who dangled from his chained hands over the drop in the floor. He’d just injected an antidote to his sedative that would wake him in five, four, three?—

His eyes sprang open.

Shade’s demented grin broadened, clear to me despite the fact we both wore masks.

“I’m going to rip the tape from your mouth, then ye have one chance to redeem yourself. Scream, and I’ll gut ye and tease out every entrail until it drops into the river.”

I smirked at the favourite game my friend was playing. He toyed with his prey. Made them think there was hope for the situation they’d found themselves in.

There wasn’t.

Fact: We didn’t make mistakes.

If someone found themselves in our hands, it was game over. Shade and I had been practising our art of cleansing the community for years now, and we didn’t miss.

Also a fact: Deadwater River had one of the highest tidal ranges in the world. It filled and emptied on a schedule, the drag of water to the estuary and out to sea perfect for disposing of bodies with little effort. With the way we handled them, they didn’t rise for weeks, or even months. One or two had never floated to the surface. If they did, they were unrecognisable from the effects of their sea journey.

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