Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 46

**KACIA** 

One moment, I’m mid swing, trying to outmaneuver a troll twice my size, and the next I’ve been shoved aside. Hard. I stumble, skid across the grass, and barely manage to catch myself before I go down. My ribs throb, but I’m already scrambling to my feet, trying to circle back in. I can’t leave Oz alone with that thing. Then I hear him yelp. It’s not a sound I’ve ever heard from him before, sharp, strained, unmistakably pained. My head snaps toward the sound, and I see the troll gripping his wrist, twisting it into an angle wrists aren’t supposed to go. Oz crumples backward with a hiss, his teeth bared in pain. I tense, ready to rush in, to strike before the troll finishes what he started. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even move. He just… Freezes. Right there, one massive hand still half raised, eyes locked onto Oz, not with fury or triumph, but confusion. Shock. Almost… Recognition? I frown, creeping closer, angling to strike if I have to, but what I hear next stops me dead.

“You’re one of us, so what’re you doing helping her?!” The troll growls, loud and accusing. I blink. What? One of… What? Then I see what he’s pointing at. Oz’s arm, bare, exposed, tattooed with curling, inky black vines. Familiar ones. Too familiar. Because they match the troll’s. Exactly. I don’t understand what’s happening. It doesn’t make sense. The troll said Oz is one of them? Like part of a club or something? 

“We were sent for her.” The troll insists and points at me. Sent for me… Why? To do what?

“We get her dead, we go home. That’s the deal. That’s the only way home.” The troll says, unknowingly answering my silent questions. My stomach twists and my heart starts to race. I don’t hear another word that is said, my blood is pumping and my eyes are glued to Oz. The realisation hits like a blow to the chest. My heart stutters. My knees feel unsteady. My brain’s still trying to fight off the meaning even as the rest of me already knows. He wasn’t just talking about himself. He was talking about Oz. My ears ring. I can barely hear anything over the roar of my own pulse. My breath shortens, ragged and shallow. It’s all too much, Oz’s injuries, the tattoos, the words. It doesn’t make sense. It CAN’T make sense. Then Oz moves. His head lifts. His shoulders square. And his glamour drops my breath catches. His demon form. I’ve only seen glimpses, times he’s accidentally shown himself to me. But this is different. This is intentional. Controlled. And terrifying, because before when he was in his natural form, even though it is clearly designed to intimidate, I didn’t care, because I trusted him. I knew he wasn’t a threat to me. But now… I’m not so sure. The troll meets his gaze and loses every ounce of fight left in him. His eyes bug wide in pure, undiluted terror. He takes one stumbling step back, then another. Sweat pours down his face. His mouth opens like he wants to beg, but no sound comes out. He looks like he’s staring into a nightmare. Oz takes one slow step forward.

“Leave. Now.” He says darkly. It doesn’t even sound like him. His voice is all gravel and hatred. It makes my skin crawl, and I’m not even the one he’s aiming it at. The troll doesn’t wait to be told again. He bolts. Full tilt into the woods, crashing through branches like he’s trying to outrun his own shadow. Then… Nothing. Silence. And all I can do is stand there. I wait, for Oz to turn. To face me. To say something. But he doesn’t. His glamour re-forms, sliding back into place like a mask being carefully reapplied. Human again. Or close enough. But everything else about him is wrong. Too still. Too stiff. His back is rigid, shoulders locked in place like he’s bracing for impact. His tail lashes once, then again, agitated, unsettled. Why won’t he look at me?

The longer Oz takes to turn around, the heavier my heart sinks. The silence between us isn’t just awkward, it’s damning. If he had a good reason, if there was even a sliver of justification, he’d face me. He’d say something. Anything. But he doesn’t. Which means… It’s true. He WAS here to kill me. And maybe he didn’t do it. Maybe that counts for something. But not enough. Because he never TOLD me. Not when he had the chance. Not when I trusted him. Not when he kissed me like I meant something. What does that mean? That he was biding his time? Waiting for the right moment? Trying to get close so it would be easier? And the troll, he knew about my ears. About me being fae. Someone told him. That means someone else knows. Oz knows. He figured it out so quickly when we first met, didn’t he? That wasn’t just instinct. He knew something. He’s always known. What else hasn’t he told me? And why, why the hell won’t he look at me? Why won’t he speak? Say something to fix all this? I’m about to say something, anything, when that prickling sensation returns. The one I always get when someone’s watching me. My gaze flicks through the trees, scanning the shadows. And then I see her… Izzy? Small. Still. Standing just beyond the tree line. But the look on her face isn’t childlike. Not even close. She looks… Ancient. Timeless. Like something older than reason staring out from behind too young eyes. Our gazes lock. She doesn't move, doesn’t say a word. She just raises a single eyebrow. A silent challenge. She’s asking me ‘So? What are you going to do?’ It rattles me more than I want to admit. I turn back toward Oz.

“Oz?” I ask, quietly. My voice cracks a little despite myself. His tail flicks once, like a twitch of guilt, but he doesn’t move.

“Oz.” Sharper this time. My voice rising. I need to hear it from him. I deserve to hear it. He flinches, like he has a reason to be scared of ME. That’s it. That’s the last straw. I storm over and grab his arm. 

“Look at me.” My voice is low, furious. Slowly, reluctantly, he turns to face me. But his eyes are still fixed to the ground, like he can’t bear to meet mine. 

“I said, LOOK AT ME!” I snap, and my voice breaks with emotion, sharp and too loud. He sucks in a shaky breath, then finally lifts his gaze. His eyes are filled with fear. And for a moment, just one, I might’ve cared. But not now. Not anymore.

“Who sent you?” I ask. My voice is all frost and venom. Oz flinches again. 

“Kaci, it’s… It’s not like that. I didn’t mean to… I just-” He starts.

“I asked who.” The ice in my voice could cut through steel. He exhales slowly, like it’s physically painful to say the words. 

“I don’t know. I never saw him. But… He was male. And fae.” He answers. My chest tightens. A pit opens in my stomach.

“Fae…” I whisper. 

“A fae sent you to kill me.” The words feel like poison in my mouth. Oz looks wrecked. He nods, just once. 

“And the troll… Was sent by the same fae.” He admits. My breath catches. My heart beats faster. My mouth goes dry. 

“And the basilisk?” Another nod. 

“Yeah.” He confirms it. My vision tunnels.

“You… You…” I can’t find the words. My hands are shaking. 

“You asshole!” It explodes out of me before I can stop it. All the betrayal, all the horror, all the rage. He doesn’t react. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t even say a word. He just stands there, shoulders hunched, watching me with soft, guilty eyes like that’s supposed to mean something. They want me dead. The fae want me dead and he didn’t tell me. My whole life, that’s the thing I’ve always been the most afraid of. The one thing I’ve been trying to avoid. And Oz knew, this whole. Damn. Time. But he didn’t kill me… He even protected me… It doesn’t make sense. Except… Suddenly, everything falls into place. The life-debt. He promised to repay me BEFORE he knew who I was. Before I gave him my name. That’s why he’s stuck. That’s why he’s stayed. He’s been trying to repay the debt so he can be free to kill me. The realisation hits like a slap to the face. Oz isn’t my protector. He’s a liar. A traitor. A time bomb waiting to go off. And worst of all, I trusted him. No wonder he’s been staying so close, looking for chances to balance the scales. I stare at him, and all I can see is the truth I missed. He doesn't care about me, not really. All I can hear is the ringing silence where honesty should have been. And I don’t know whether to cry or scream.