Page 10 of Severance

There she is.

“Are you ready to play,bambolina?”

She knows it’s the only way out.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she breathes, relaxing under my hands. “What’s your plan?”

I shrug and grab her hand. “We’re gonna have to wing it and play whatever hand the devil deals us.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” she whispers as she follows me through the darkness.

This is going to be a hail fucking Mary, but we’re out of options now.

Just as we meet the edge of the trees, I hear the loud click from behind us as Stan chuckles.

“The prince came for his princess, didn’t he?” he calls out mockingly.

Turning around, I grip Dahlia’s arm as we stand face to face with Stan and his gun. He stares down the barrel at us with a menacing look and a sinister smile playing on his lips.

Pulling Dahlia in front of me, she gasps as I grab both of her wrists and pull them behind her back.

“Luca didn’t tell you?” I question him. “He knew you would fuck it up and that she trusts me.”

“Bullshit,” he barks. “You’re as useless to your father as she is.”

Nudging her in the back, I push Dahlia forward. Her steps falter and she stumbles slightly. Holding onto her wrist tightly, I jerk her upright and steady her on her feet.

Just fucking trust me.

Go with it.

Don’t believe a word that I say to him.

Dahlia shakes her head as I shove her to Stan. She stumbles into his arms as I quickly conceal my pistol in my hand.

“If I was lying, would I willingly give her over to you?” I probe as he roughly grips her. “This is your mess to clean the fuck up.”

Dahlia’s eyes are wide as she watches me back away.

Trust me, bambolina.

“I’m just a puppet here, remember?” I tell him, but my words aren’t for him. Dahlia closes her eyes briefly and relief washes over them. She knows my words were for her.

“That’s right.” Stan smiles, directing his beady eyes on mine. “You are the puppet, not the puppet master.”

In one fluid movement, Stan has Dahlia’s back against his chest with one of his arms wrapped around her chest. With his gun in that hand, he has the other pressed firmly against her forehead. Digging his fingertips into her skin, he pulls her head backward and roughly jams his revolver under her chin. Pushing the metal barrel deeper into her skin, he pushes her head back until her neck looks like it might snap.

“You think you can show up here and try and tell me how to run things?” He smirks. “I think maybe you need a reminder of who runs this show, who the real puppet master is.”

“We both know it isn’t you,” I retort. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go down, but we’re fucking compromised. He’s got Dahlia with a gun to her fucking head and the only thing I can do is try and buy us any time that I can.

“This is your fucking mess!” he booms. “You are the one who fucked this all up. You and fucking Anthony. But don’t worry, I got his number too.”

Keep talking your shit, Stan. It won’t be long before blood is pouring from that gaping hole in your fucking face.

Dahlia eyes me with her expression stoic. She’s calm, too calm.

Because she fucking trusts me.

---