“Your boy, huh?”

There’s something almost smug in the leader’s tone then. Something mocking as the others work Carver’s pants down, as they lay hands on him. Pinching and dragging their hands, one of them taking Carver by the jaw. Touching his mouth even as he snarls and tries to bite.

“Well,” the leader murmurs. “Let’s play a game, then. I bet my guys can slut your boy out. I got time and all sorts of tools. Shit you wouldn’t believe, my man. Or…”

There’s laughter. Low and mocking.

“Maybe you show us how it’s done, old man.”