Page 27 of Arran's Obsession

Another voice answered, the American woman, breathless in her aid. “Try the roof of that hut. I want this over so we can leave.”

Oh God, no.

In the reflection, the man closest to me lurched, scrambling for the same route up I’d taken. I yelped in terror, rolling up to scurry to the edge. I stared down. Below me, two couples were having sex on the floor, nothing hidden from the group of men around them.

But they all saw me.

“There!” one yelled.

My breath caught. Behind me, at the other side of the roof, the snake-tattooed man appeared. His eyes sparkled his victory. His route the only one up.

Unless I jumped.

Panicked, I peered down again. From here, it was a drop to the metal walkway, but others were already running to reach it. I had no hope. Still, I couldn’t stay.

Flipping my legs over, I lowered myself to my fingertips then let go, my knees catching on the stubbled exterior of the captain’s hut before I landed hard on the metal walkway. The pain barely registered. Had to move.

I took off down and away, a thud behind me telling me the man was close behind. Ahead, two approached from the other end of the suspended floor, both huge, one so bear-like I felt like I was in a twisted fairy tale. Between us, another set of steps descended. I made a break for it, descending with a squeak of fear right as one made a grab for me.

There were too many of them. This was too much. My heart couldn’t take it.

I hit the concrete floor of the warehouse and sprinted.

Five metres, ten.

A body slammed into mine. I fell hard, the man landing over me with a grunt of victory.

The arm with the snake tattoo braced me, the man’s body pressing mine down to the rough surface. His cock pushed against my ass.

Down here, the smell of sweat and sex dominated. The floor was cold in the hot night. He was going to take me right here, just like the others were having sex not twenty feet away, still joined.

“No, don’t, please,” I gritted out.

“Fucking hell, baby. I love the way you beg,” Snake-Tattoo answered, his mouth above my ear.

I shuddered in revulsion and bucked him. It did nothing, the control he had over me complete. His hand twisted into the straps of my dress then ripped, tearing the material at the seams.

“Why bother with the underwear?” he grunted.

“I’m not supposed to be—” I started.

At the same moment, my attacker surged, swiping a fist at another man whose naked, hairy feet came into view. I jolted with their fight, a puppet on a string, then the man lifted from me to defend his prize just like the first guy had done. Seizing the opportunity, I scuttled back, my dress falling away as scraps.

In only my underwear, I shot my gaze to Snake-Tattoo brawling with two men. Down the warehouse, the pack reformed. They’d seen us. Regrouped. Started our way.

My heart sank, all hope evaporating. I was going to be torn in two.

“No!” a furious shout came.

I spun around on my knees, the rough concrete cutting into my skin.

A man with dark-blond hair burst from the corridor I’d used. The one with the exit that was supposedly locked until this was all over. He put his head down and drove his limbs hard, every muscle taut, fury in his eyes and his skeleton mask doing nothing to hide pure anger.

The fight at my back paused.

The bigger of the men swore. “What the hell?”

He groaned as Snake-Tattoo threw another fist at his ugly face, and I readied to run. But that tattooed arm was around my throat and I was hauled up, my back to his bare chest.

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