Page 42 of Tangled in Red

Diablo tilted his head. “You went through all of this because of some shitty experiment? Because I’m your key to making more?”

Rico’s eyes narrowed, but Diablo saw a flicker of fear in them.

“You took from me, not once, but twice, and now you’re back to take again?”

“I would advise you to keep your distance.” Rico smirked, waving the gun slightly. “Are you willing to risk another injection, friend?”

“I’m not your friend, pendejo.” Diablo charged him. Rico shot the gun, the dart embedding into Diablo’s side. Diablo ripped it out quickly, noting the serum still inside the cylinder.

Hyenas emerged from the shadows, surrounding him.

Diablo’s lips curled in a vicious snarl. The hyenas circled him, but he kept his eyes locked on Rico. “You’re gonna need a hell of a lot more men to put me down.”

Rico’s face remained impassive, but Diablo could smell the fear. Good. He should be afraid.

“The next one goes in your human’s pretty neck,” Rico warned. “Unless you cooperate.”

Red clouded Diablo’s vision at the threat. His claws ached to tear into the bastard's flesh, to feel hot blood run between his fingers.

“I’m going to bathe in your blood,” Diablo growled, voice distorted around his elongating canines.

Diablo lunged for Rico, tackling him to the ground. The tranq gun skittered across the concrete. They grappled, rolling, exchanging vicious blows.

Rico was fast, landing a punch that snapped Diablo’s head back. But Diablo was fueled by pure rage. He grabbed the hyena by the throat, slamming his head into concrete.

“You touched my fucking mate.” Diablo roared, claws digging into Rico’s neck. “I warned you the day you darted me to remember that moment.”

Rico laughed, blood bubbling from his lips. “You think killing me will stop what has already begun?”

Diablo leaned in close, his lip curled. “El diablo ha descendido sobre ti.”

With a savage twist, he snapped Rico’s neck, the crunch of bone barely audible over the din of fighting.

Leaving the body, he charged toward his mate, who’d been left by himself when the fighting started.

His elegido’s scent was faint, nearly drowned out by the stench of blood and fear permeating the building.

“Brett!” he called, kicking open doors, frantically searching each room. “Answer me!”

Nothing. Just the sounds of fighting behind him, grunts and snarls echoing off the walls.

Then, from a room at the far end of a darkened hallway, a muffled cry. Diablo’s heart seized. He sprinted toward the sound, shouldering through the door with a splintering of wood.

Brett was tied to a chair, a gag shoved between his teeth. Bruises mottled his pale skin. Diablo’s vision went crimson.

“Pajarito,” he breathed, dropping to his knees in front of his mate. With shaking hands, he removed the gag, claws slicing through the ropes binding Brett’s wrists and ankles. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“Cariño!” Brett collapsed forward into his arms, whole body trembling. Diablo held him close, one hand cradling the back of his neck. “No les dije nada!”

Diablo grinned through his fear. “There was nothing to tell.” He kissed his mate’s temple. “Your Spanish is getting much better.”

Despite what his elegido had gone through, he blushed. Then he scowled. “Rico’s a lunatic! He offered to murder someone for me! I told him I’d rather have a gift card.”

Diablo’s arms tightened around Brett protectively. “He won’t be offering anything to anyone anymore. I made sure of that.”

Brett pulled back slightly, searching Diablo’s face. “Is he...?”

“Dead.” The word was flat, final. “He’ll never touch you again, pajarito. No one will.”

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