“Aye.” Mohawk stumbled after No-Neck. “I’m outta here.”
Shaggy was the last to get up. He looked around frantically as his mates stampeded into the thicket.
“How dare you pick on someone so much smaller than you!” Garrick lunged at the goon. “You’re really tough, you know that?” He grasped the front of Shaggy’s jacket, yanking him from the ground. “You want me to squash you like a bug, do ya? You toilet sucker!”
“Garrick,” Monte warned. He had never seen his brother behave so aggressively.
A strange sound leaked from Shaggy’s mouth. It sounded like a whimper.
Garrick retracted his fingers. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice deep and dangerous as Shaggy crumpled to the mud. “Just go. Get out of here.”
Shaggy scampered away—half running, half crawling—almost tripping over Cameron
