My stomach burned, and my lower ribs ached as I tried to push up to my hands and knees. Holy shit. I sucked in a breath and hissed it right back out, one hand going under my shirt to palm the skin that I knew was scraped to hell. Before I could even successfully sit up on my knees, the culprit had been shoved to the ground. I mean he was shoved hard. It wasn’t Marc, and it wasn’t Simon. It was Kulti standing with his back to me. Kulti had pushed the full-grown man to the ground. Reiner “The King” Kulti stood over the fucking weasel, straddling his body in a squat. “You coward,” he spat.
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