Page 17 of Tangled in Red

Brett nodded, tipping his head back to look at the sky where stars twinkled brightly above them. “Peaceful.”

“Got taken down about two months ago,” Diablo confessed, skirting around some truths. “Three punks who thought I was an easy target.”

His mate glanced sideways at him.

“Put two of them on their asses, but the last one… he was more cunning.” Diablo rubbed the spot where the dart had embedded in his skin, feeling a sting sensation as if it were still there. “He drugged me instead.”

Brett’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

For a moment, Diablo’s mind was dragged back to the warehouse. He felt the chains around his wrists, the flies biting him, and the sound of the dripping water.

The absence of his animals.

“We’re all helpless at some point in our lives,” Diablo murmured. A soft breeze carried the scent of nearby jasmine from the hospital’s decorative landscaping. Diablo inhaled deeply, letting it bring him back to the present.

The streetlights flickered overhead, casting shadows that danced like whispers around them. He could feel the tension radiating from Brett’s slender frame, a taut string ready to snap.

“Talk to me, cariño,” Diablo said softly, studying Brett’s downturned gaze. “You don’t have to keep everything bottled up.” His voice remained steady, although, inside, his wolf was snarling at the thought of anyone causing his mate pain. Diablo wanted to rip the son of a bitch apart, to eviscerate them for hurting such an innocent, sweet man.

Brett shifted slightly, his shoulders rising and falling in an almost imperceptible sigh. “It’s just… I’m used to dealing with things on my own.” A hint of vulnerability seeped through his words, barely masking the fear beneath. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

The words stung more than Diablo expected. “You’re not a burden, Brett. I promise.” He placed a reassuring hand over mate’s knee, letting the warmth of his palm sink into the fabric of his jeans.

Brett finally met his eyes, those vivid green pools shimmering under the streetlight. For a moment, silence stretched long between them—an unspoken connection between them.

“Okay,” Brett finally whispered, biting his lip as if weighing whether to continue or retreat. “I guess I’ve just been dealing with some stuff...at home.”

Diablo felt a low growl rumble in his chest but quickly suppressed it. Home? What kind of shit could possibly warrant such a bruise?

“What kind of stuff?”

Brett hesitated again. The muscles in his jaw worked as if he were chewing on a secret too bitter to swallow. “It’s… It’s complicated.”

Diablo nodded slowly, urging him on with the tilt of his head as if steering him down a path he was afraid to tread. “I’m listening, pajarito.”

After a moment, he took a deep breath and seemed to gather himself before speaking again. “My uncle is... difficult,” Brett finally said, staring at his hands. “That’s all.”

“Difficult how?”

“Just moody. Temperamental.” Brett picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. He seemed tiny in the darkness, hunched slightly as if making himself a smaller target. Diablo fought the urge to pull him closer, to envelop him in the protection of his much larger frame.

“Brett…” he started, feeling the heat bubble in his chest again.

“I’m fine! Really!” Brett interrupted hastily, holding up both hands as if warding off Diablo’s instincts before they took over completely. “I mean— I’m dealing with it! I just… don’t want you getting involved or putting yourself at risk because of me.”

“Getting involved?” Diablo barked out a humorless laugh as disbelief coursed through him like wildfire. “If someone’s hurting you—” He swallowed hard. It felt like swallowing glass, but he fought through it. “If someone is hurting you,” he continued more calmly, “then hell yes I’m getting involved.”

“I appreciate that,” Brett said finally, a soft smile breaking through the worry etched into his features. “But I can handle this myself.”

“No one should have to handle something like this alone,” Diablo replied fiercely, gently squeezing Brett’s knee as if grounding them both in that moment.

Brett chewed on his lower lip again, clearly torn between trusting Diablo and his stubborn insistent to keep his secrets buried.

Stop pushing him. He’s going to shut down on you. Diablo’s jaw flexed, his anger briefly clouding his mind before he slowly exhaled. Never in his life had he used this much control to leash his rage.

And it tasted bitter as fuck, like he was protecting his mate and letting him down at the same time.

“You hungry?” He changed course, forcing himself to sound casual. I see you. I won’t push. But I’m not walking away either.

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