“Shit.” Malik pitched to the side, coughing as he braced his weight on one arm. “That hurt more than any of his punches did. I think you cracked a few ribs.” “I’m about to crack your face if you say one more word,” I retorted. “Crack his face?” Casteel repeated, his brows flying up. “Yours, too,” I warned. A slow, bloody grin spread across his lips, and that stupid, godsforsaken dimple appeared. I just knew he was about to say something that would make me want to punch him.
