kidn*pped while running from my arranged marriage

Chapter 7

Rihanna's hands trembled as she continued to apply pressure to Denzel's wound, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of rescue or a nearby island. The vast expanse of water seemed to stretch on forever, offering no solace or escape.

With a surge of adrenaline, she carefully maneuvered Denzel's body to a more stable position, keeping his head elevated and his airway clear. She talked to him softly, trying to keep him awake, even though he was unresponsive.

As she rummaged through the boat's emergency kit, her fingers closed around a VHF radio. With shaking hands, she called out a Mayday distress signal, praying someone would receive her plea for help. The silence that followed was agonizing, punctuated only by the sound of the waves and her own ragged breathing.

Rihanna's mind racing, she knew she had to think of another way to get Denzel medical help without putting them in greater danger. She couldn't risk her father tracking them down, not now when Denzel's life hung in the balance.

With a determined look, she scanned their surroundings, her eyes settling on the sailboat's navigation charts. Maybe there was a nearby island or a coastal town where she could find help without putting out a distress signal that could be traced. She studied the charts, her heart pounding in her chest, as she searched for a solution.

Rihanna's eyes widened in shock as she stared at the small opening, her mind reeling with questions. A skin mask? What did that even mean? She gently peeled back the mask, revealing a face.

Rihanna's eyes locked onto the familiar face, a mix of emotions swirling within her. Pratt, her high school boyfriend, the one she thought she'd lost touch with forever, she had made an oath within herself to wait no matter what, afterall they had both promised each other forever, now that she was seeing him again, forever seemed too be too short, not enough time. What was he doing here, and why the disguise?

Memories flooded back, and Rihanna's mind reeled with questions. How had Pratt ended up in this situation, and what had happened to him over the years?

Rihanna's curiosity got the better of her as she carefully took the gun from Pratt's hand, her eyes never leaving his face. She set it on her lap and sat down beside him, watching over him until he slowly regained consciousness.

Rihanna's eyes remained fixed on Pratt's face, her expression a complex mix of emotions. She didn't rush him, didn't speak, just sat there, her chest rising and falling with each breath. The silence between them was thick with unspoken questions, abandoned feelings, and unfinished business.

As Pratt's gaze met hers, he seemed to sense the turmoil brewing within her. He didn't try to speak, didn't try to move, just let her look at him, let her emotions simmer, waiting for her to break the silence.

You're definitely not my Pratt are you? Rihanna slowly asked breaking the silence.

For a moment, everything went still for Denzel, she had found him out in the end,he didn't have time to change the mask or adjust it well since those men were after them.

Pratt's eyes searched hers, a hint of sadness and regret in their depths. "I am," he said softly, his voice low and husky. "I've just...changed, Rihanna. Life has a way of changing us, doesn't it?"

His words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of the past they'd shared and the present they'd been thrust into. Rihanna's gaze never wavered, as if searching for the boy she'd once known beneath the stranger's facade.

Pratt's expression remained neutral, his eyes locked on Rihanna's. "No regrets," he said, his voice steady. "I've done what I had to do to survive. But you...you're still the same, aren't you?" His gaze roamed her face, as if searching for any sign of change. "Still beautiful, still fierce."

"You're not trying to buy me right? I mean explain all of this bullshit to me if you're truly my Pratt! She said her voice rising.

Pratt's eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and wariness as Rihanna's voice rose. "Rihanna, calm down," he said, his tone even, "I'm not trying to buy you, or manipulate you. I'm just...trying to reconnect with the person I lost a long time ago."

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I'll explain everything, every detail, every decision. But you have to promise me one thing: you have to listen to the whole story before you judge me."

He winced a little from the bullet wound and Rihanna was down on her knees again cooling it off.

Rihanna's anger and skepticism momentarily gave way to concern as she gently tended to Pratt's wound. She applied pressure to the area, trying to stem the bleeding, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the turmoil of emotions inside her.

As Pratt winced again, Rihanna's eyes met his, a flicker of worry crossing her face. "You're going to tell me everything," she said, her voice firm but laced with a hint of concern. "But first, we need to get you patched up."

"Okay boss, he said dryly.

Rihanna's gaze narrowed slightly at Pratt's sarcastic tone, but she didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she continued to tend to his wound, her hands moving with a practiced efficiency that belied the tension between them.

"Someone's got to keep you in line," she said, her voice light, but with an undercurrent of steel.

Rihanna's eyes locked onto Pratt's, a new understanding dawning on her. "You're not trying to hurt me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're trying to...protect me? Keep me safe?"

The pieces fell into place, and Rihanna's expression softened slightly. "Why?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Why go to so much trouble?"

"Because you're the only pawn I can use in this game Rihanna"

Pratt's expression turned calculating, his eyes glinting with a hint of ruthlessness. "You're not just any pawn, Rihanna," he said, his voice low and even. "You're the queen. The one piece that can tip the entire game in my favor."

His gaze bore into hers, the air thick with tension as he waited for her response.

What?? She asked shocked.

Pratt's words hung in the air, and Rihanna's face reflected her confusion and alarm. "What game?" she repeated, her voice rising, demanding answers. "What are you talking about, Pratt? What do you need me for?"

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion etched on her face. "Tell me the truth. What's going on?"

"Richard Snr is not......"those were his last words before he lost consciousness again.

Rihanna's eyes widened in shock, her mind racing with the implications of Pratt's unfinished sentence. "Richard Snr is not...what?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She leaned in closer, her face inches from Pratt's, her eyes searching for any sign of consciousness. "Pratt, wake up! What about Richard Snr?" she urged, her voice laced with desperation.

How did he know Richard snr? Her father's friend?

Rihanna's thoughts swirled with questions as she stared at Pratt's unconscious form. How did he know her father? What connection did he have with Richard Snr? And what did her father have that Pratt wanted?

She felt a shiver run down her spine as she realized the depth of Pratt's plan. This wasn't just about her; it was about her family, their history, and secrets she didn't even know about.