kidn*pped while running from my arranged marriage

Chapter 4

The gunshot's echo faded away, leaving an oppressive silence. Denzel's eyes never left hers, his gaze piercing as he waited for... something. And then, he moved, his eyes scanning the area around him, his expression twisting into a mix of shock and pain. He looked down at his own body, and his eyes widened in agony. A crimson stain began to spread on the wall behind him, and Rihanna's eyes followed his gaze, her face draining of color...

Her eyes snapped back to Denzel's face, and she saw the shock giving way to a dawning realization. He stumbled forward, his movements unsteady, and she saw the pain etched on his face. But it wasn't him that was hurt... A bullet hole marked the wall mere inches from where his head had been. The realization hit her like a slap, she had missed him by a hair's breadth. Denzel's eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air.

In her stunned state, Denzel swiftly closed the distance between them and snatched the gun away from her trembling hand. His movements were swift and decisive, and she didn't resist, still reeling from the aftermath of the gunshot. The gun changed hands.

Denzel's eyes narrowed as he trained the gun on her, his face a mask of controlled fury.

Denzel's eyes blazed with a fierce intensity as he pointed the gun at her, his finger resting on the trigger. "You really think you can just shoot me and get away with it?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. The gun trembled slightly in his hand, but his grip was firm. She stood frozen, her heart racing, as she stared down the barrel of the gun, the reality of her situation crashing down on her.

Denzel's eyes narrowed, the gun still pointed at her. "You missed," he said, his voice low and even. "Lucky for you, I suppose." He took a step closer, the gun unwavering. "You missed."

His voice was back to being cold, detached, as he repeated, "You missed." The words hung in the air, devoid of emotion, yet somehow even more unnerving than his anger. He stood there, the gun still trained on her, his eyes piercing, as if daring her to make another move. The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken threats.

Denzel's expression twisted into a cold smile as he raised the gun, his eyes glinting with a sinister light. "How about I give you a demonstration?" he taunted, his voice dripping with menace. The gun's barrel seemed to gleam in the dim light, and she felt a chill run down her spine as he took aim.

The sound of the gunshot shattered the air, making her flinch. Denzel's aim was precise, and a nearby vase exploded into shards of ceramic and glass, the sound of the impact echoing through the room. His eyes never left hers, a cold challenge glinting in their depths. "I don't miss," he said, his voice dripping with icy intent.

How about I return favour? He said

The words hung in the air, laced with a deadly promise. Denzel's eyes locked onto hers, a spark of anticipation flickering to life. "How about I return the favour?" he repeated, his voice low and husky, the gun still poised in his hand. The silence that followed was electric, heavy with tension, as she wondered what he had in mind.

The sudden shift in tone was jarring, and Denzel's expression changed from cold calculation to utter incredulity. "Or scratch that... how about we just celebrate your wedding day?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The words hung in the air, and she couldn't help but wonder what kind of twisted game he was playing now.

Denzel's voice dripped with sarcasm as he drawled out the word "bride", his eyes glinting with amusement. The emphasis was mocking, and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks as he seemed to savor the absurdity of the situation. The gun, still clutched in his hand, seemed almost forgotten as he focused on teasing her.

The words caught in her throat as she stuttered out a reply, "Sounds... nice," her voice barely above a whisper. Denzel's sarcastic tone seemed to have caught her off guard, and she struggled to find her footing, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape from the awkwardness.

Denzel's movements were fluid as he walked over to the cabinet, the gun somehow forgotten in his hand, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. He opened the cabinet door, revealing a selection of fine wines, and reached in to grab a bottle, his actions smooth and calculated. The tension in the room seemed to dissipate slightly, replaced by an air of surreal normalcy.

I'd like a cup of hot tea instead

A simple request, yet it seemed to hang in the air, a contrast to the tension that had preceded it. Denzel's eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing her sincerity, before he nodded and put the wine bottle back. "Tea it is, then," he said, his voice a little softer, and headed towards the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Denzel's eyes lingered on her for a moment before he turned to head to the kitchen, the gun now tucked away, seemingly forgotten. As he walked, he called out, "Earl Grey or English Breakfast?" His voice was casual, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. The kettle whistled in the background, awaiting his return. She hesitated, her mind racing to keep up with the sudden change in atmosphere. "English Breakfast," she replied finally, her voice a little softer than before. Denzel's response was a simple "Coming right up," followed by the sound of cups being retrieved from the cabinet.

As they sat down to eat, Rihanna couldn't help but notice the spread before her - toast, scrambled eggs, and a steaming cup of English Breakfast tea. Denzel's eyes met hers, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, as if daring her to comment on the domesticity of the scene. She chose to ignore it, instead focusing on her food, the silence between them surprisingly comfortable. The morning light streaming through the window highlighted the sharp lines of his face, and for a moment, she forgot about the gun, the tension, and the uncertainty that had defined their interaction so far.

The white wedding dress was now stained and tattered, a grim reminder of the events that had transpired since her kidnap. Rihanna's eyes dropped to her attire, the once pristine gown now a symbol of her reality. Denzel's gaze followed hers, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of her in the ruined dress. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound the clinking of utensils against plates as they continued their meal.

Rihanna pushed her chair back, her movements quiet as she stood up. "Bathroom?" she asked, her voice husky from disuse, her eyes fixed on Denzel with a hint of vulnerability. She didn't ask for a change of clothes, but he seemed to understand the unspoken request. He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers, and gestured towards the hallway. "Down the hall, second door on your left," he said, his voice neutral. A hot shower seemed like just what she needed to wash away some of the trauma and grime.

Rihanna slipped back into the wedding dress, the stained and tattered fabric clinging to her skin. The smell of sweat and fear still lingered, a potent reminder of the events that had transpired. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked at herself in the mirror, the dress's once pristine white now sullied and worn. The delicate lace was torn, the satin fabric rumpled, and the veil was long gone. She looked...broken, just like her dreams.

Exhaustion had finally caught up with her, and Rihanna's eyelids felt heavy, her body craving the oblivion of sleep. She swayed slightly, her legs trembling beneath the weight of the ruined wedding dress. Denzel, who had been watching her from the doorway, nodded slightly and stepped aside, revealing a bedroom beyond. "You can sleep in there," he said, his voice a low rumble, devoid of emotion. Rihanna didn't hesitate, stumbling towards the bed, her body screaming for rest.

The TV screen flickered with images of Rihanna's smiling face, juxtaposed with the stern expression of Richard Snr, her would-be groom. Denzel's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together in a mixture of anger and frustration. He watched as the news anchor speculated about the circumstances of her disappearance, and the police's efforts to track her down. Denzel's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Richard's face, a cold calculation burning in his eyes.

Rihanna's eyes snapped open, and she was met with unfamiliar surroundings. She sat up with a start, her heart racing as she looked down at herself. She was no longer in the tattered wedding dress; instead, she wore an oversized T-shirt that swallowed her frame. Alarm coursed through her veins as she scrambled to piece together the events of the previous night. Who had changed her clothes? Denzel? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She threw off the covers, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of him.