Mara had just picked up her custom-made veil.. soft tulle, embroidered with the initials MZ; when her phone buzzed.
Clara:
"On my way with the cupcakes, bridezilla đ Don't eat anything sketchy."
Mara laughed softly and texted back:
"Too late. Just kissed the baker."
The city buzzed as she walked to her car, veil boxed neatly under her arm, heart humming with anticipation. She was almost there. Just a few more days. Just one more fitting. One more...
A sudden hand grabbed her from behind.
Everything went black.
...
Malik was in the middle of arguing with a florist over the centerpieces ("No, I don't want peonies. This is a wedding, not a child's birthday party!") when his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He didn't answer.
Then came the second call; Clara, her voice shrill.
"She's gone."
His heart dropped.
"Who?"
"Mara! She was just texting me. Now her phone's off and..and her car door's wide open. Malik...someone took her!"
.....
An hour later, Malik's penthouse was swarming with people.
His security team. His assistant. Clara, in tears. And him; standing by the window, fists clenched, staring into the skyline like it would cough up answers.
"She was wearing the veil," Clara choked. "She was so happy, Malik. She was glowing. And now..."
"Enough," he snapped, turning around. His face was stone. His voice, lethal.
"Find her," he growled at his head of security. "Whoever did this; whoever touched her, I will bury them."
....
Somewhere unknown...
Mara's eyes fluttered open.
Dim light. Concrete walls. Zip-tied wrists.
And a voice.
"Well, well, well. Malik's little princess. Let's see how far his love goes."
She didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
Instead, Mara smirked.
"You clearly don't know me."
....
LATER THAT DAY....
The room was cold.
Concrete walls. One flickering bulb above her. Rope-cut wrists. But Mara Daniels wasn't shaking.
No.
She was counting.
Two guards.
One on the left, one outside.
Unprofessional. Sloppy. Hired muscle, not brains.
They'd left her with a broken chair in the corner.
Big mistake.
.....
Hour three.
The guard brought in food.
"Eat. Or don't. Doesn't matter."
He turned his back.
Another mistake.
With one sharp move, Mara kicked the tray, sending steaming soup straight into his face.
He screamed.
She didn't hesitate; grabbed a shard of broken plate and jammed it into his thigh.
He crumpled.
She took his keys, slipped out like a whisper, and closed the door behind her.
She ran.
Corridors, dim.
An abandoned warehouse.
A phone.
On a desk. Guarded.
She ducked behind crates, heart racing.
And then; her training kicked in.
(Okay fine, not training, just years of watching crime thrillers and months of Malik's self-defense classes on Saturdays)
She crept forward, picked up a metal pipe...
and WHACK.
Phone, unlocked. Dialed Clara.
"Clara...it's me. Send Malik. Now. Pin this call."
And just as a second guard stormed in..
She ran.
....
Malik's phone rang mid-meeting with police.
"Unknown number."
He answered.
All he heard was:
"Tell your billionaire fiancé to come get his queen."
His jaw clenched.
He was already out the door before anyone else moved.
.....
MeanwhileâŠ
Mara didn't wait.
She took a fire escape, dashed across a side street, and straight into a crowd.
Hair messy. Lip bleeding. Veil still tucked under her shirt like a battle flag.
...
Minutes later, a black SUV screeched to a stop.
Malik leapt out.
"Mara!"
She turned.
They ran into each other's arms like every romcom climax ever imagined.
He buried his face in her neck.
"I was going to burn the entire world down..."
"You still might," she breathed, "but first, let's go home."