Schwieger held a pistol in an outstretched hand, and was already lining up for another shot. He got off a second round, thankfully missing for a second time, before William barreled into his knees from behind and took him down. “No,” William gasped through the tangle of arms and legs and a knee to his abdomen, “no, don’t, don’t!” He clawed at Schwieger’s pistol with his one good hand, hissing at the pressure to his burned forearm.
“You are mad, Carrington!” Schwieger bit out. “You cannot let her depart with your pocket watch!”
“Let her go, it doesn’t matter, it’s the broken one!” William managed. The windows of the cottage behind him were lighting one after the other, any hope of smoothing this over destroyed with the gunshots. Schwieger stopped struggling, looking puzzled. “We have two,
