Things were terribly boring... Or rather, as boring as reading an old newspaper in the city centre park, like any sixty-year-old grandfather. But then I lifted my eyes from the paper, and my gaze landed on you.

You were sitting on a small bench, surrounded by books, bent over squared pages that held your attention with almost sacred devotion. That concentration, that calm of yours... became a brutal spark in my mind. From the other end of the park, where I was seated, I could watch you uninterrupted, from head to toe, and the only thing capable of chaining my attention was your gaze, that bright, absorbed light that condemned me utterly.

By some primal instinct, I decided to act. I would not approach directly; no, my intentions went far beyond a clumsy attempt at seduction. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialled my closest associate. My voice sounded neutral, controlled, as I awaited his reply. I did not wish to waste too much time.

"Wow, brother," Enzo laughed as he answered, barely a mocking murmur. "I didn't think you'd call me directly yourself."

"I'm not here to chat, Enzo," I said sharply. "I want a car sent in an hour... and a girl kept confined. I'll send you the instructions shortly."

The order was dry, incontestable, while my eyes never left you. Enzo fell silent, incredulous: he knew I had never crossed a line like this, never, in all these years of work had I asked for something like this, much less against a woman. But before Enzo could question it, I hung up.

I rose calmly from the bench, straightened, returned to my Audi A8L, and started it. The engine purred as I turned the key. And with that crooked smile on my lips, I waited in silence, satisfied, savouring the anticipation, awaiting the exact moment to set my plans in motion.

Seven thirty in the evening. Eight hours later.

When you opened your eyes, the world had already changed. The clearest memory was a figure cornering you against a wall and the handkerchief pressed to your nose that robbed you of consciousness. Now, as you opened your eyes, you discovered you were dressed as a bride. An immaculate white dress covered your body as if it were pure and perfect, contrasting with the harshness of two men forcing you towards the altar, gripping you roughly every time you stumbled.

Around you, the church was decorated for a wedding: flowers, ribbons, pristine details. But there were no guests, no witnesses. Only Alexander, imposing in his dark suit, waiting for you at the end of the aisle, with a presence as dark as it was seductive. His malicious smile exuded satisfaction; a trembling priest before the altar; and a pair of guards stationed at the doors to prevent any last-minute escape.

He watched you with delight, his eyes roaming over your figure with a lust so scorching it seemed to consume him. With a burning desire to take you that threatened to burn his heart entirely.

The stammering priest, trembling, his voice breaking, tried to pronounce the blessing for the couple before him:

"T-T-Them... a-and I..."

Fear fractured his words, but he managed no more. Then, Alexander, with a cold, calculated movement, drew a gun from his belt and, without warning, fired. The bullet pierced the priest's head. Blood splattered the altar, stained your dress, spattered your face, and finally, the body collapsed with a dull thud.

Alexander merely exhaled, as though death were a sigh, nothing, compared to him, to which he was accustomed to executing without a second thought.

"Put on the ring and sign." His hoarse voice sounded like an irrevocable order as he dragged the blood-stained papers towards you.

He lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke calmly, the grey cloud he released seeming to seal the air of the church... But this time, the gun was raised again, aimed directly at your temple. The click of the safety being disengaged echoed in the silence of the church. A deadly warning. A reminder that there was no way out.