The more frightened and desperate Pip was, the more dangerous this situation became. But Max could not give in and allow the man to leave with her. He would rather die than see Caroline hurt.
“My carriage is waiting outside. You and I can go to the docks together,” Max said. “Take me instead.”
“No. No.” Caroline protested, one tear finally escaping, rolling down her cheek. “I’m all right. I’ll be fine.”
“That’s enough!” Pip turned to shout at her, dragging her back with him several steps.
In his haste, however, he knocked the side of his head into one of the cylinders and his entire body jerked.
Everything that followed occurred in a flash.
Sensing Pip’s weakening hold, Caroline twisted out away, grasping one of the chains, which moved the wheel, which started the engine, which turned the cylinders.
Cylinders that weighed hundreds and hundreds of pounds—effective for evenly distributing ink on newspapers, but also extremely dangerous if one got too close...
When Caroline pulled away, Pip’s knife sliced across her throat.
And the second that knife moved, Max pulled his trigger.
As did Beckworth.
As did Standish.
The force of which sent the no-good reporter flying backward.
Knowing how Matilda worked, knowing those gears would show human flesh no mercy, Max threw himself across the remaining distance between him and Caroline, covering her as the metal parts caught, stuttered, and then continued to grind.
“Don’t look! Don’t look.” Max tucked her face against his chest and pressed his face into her hair as warm liquid soaked the back of his shirt. Holding her down, he opened his eyes enough to see a fine mist of red on the floor around them. A coppery odor filled the air.
No one moved for several awful seconds, all of them seemingly frozen in shock. Matilda went on clanking in the background.
“How does this beast shut off?” Winterhope’s voice finally cut through the tension, and he swiftly made his way over to one end of the machine. A beat later, Beckworth followed his lead and began fiddling with the mechanisms at the other.
“Right there!” Max took his hand off Caroline long enough to point to one of Matilda’s levers, and then tore at his shirt, drawing it over his head and pressing it against Caroline’s neck.
“Got it.” Beckworth pulled. The machine hissed as the press slowed, stuttered, and then ground to a halt.
“I’ve got you, love. Don’t move.” Black edged Max’s vision.
Blood had never bothered Maxwell all that much. But this was different. Some of this was Caroline’s. “We need a doctor!” He yelled across to her brother—to anyone. “Now!”
I THINK I MIGHT FAINT
It was a nightmare—a terrible, gruesome nightmare. It had to be.
First, she’d been caught coming out of the closet by her brother. They weren’t alone. Then that horrible man… Caroline swallowed, feeling sick.
Because there was blood. So much blood.
When she moved to turn her head, Maxwell stopped her.
“Don’t look.” Max somehow dragged both of them away from the carnage and then held the sides of her face, searching her eyes. “He cut you.”
One of his lenses was missing and tiny specks of blood covered the remaining one. But he didn’t seem to notice. All his attention was on her.
“Did it break Matilda—”
“I can replace her.” His voice was tight, strained. He sounded afraid. “I can’t replace you.”
