Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 90

**OZ**

Somehow, my conversation with Kacia has managed to leave me feeling guilty and her… Silent. Not the kind of silence that’s comfortable, either. This is the sharp-edged, careful kind, like she’s measuring every thought before she lets it out. And I know why. It was my thick headed attempt to reassert some boundaries. To remind her, and maybe myself, that when I say I’m leaving after this is over, it’s not because I want to hurt her. It’s the exact opposite. In my mind, it’s the only way to keep her safe. But I don’t think that’s the message she heard. I don’t think that’s the message anyone hears when you tell them you’re going to walk away. The worst part? I don’t think there’s any salvaging this particular conversation. The air between us feels heavy and unsettled, and every time I think about saying something else, the words dissolve before I can speak them. So I let the silence stand. It doesn’t make it better. This whole situation is miserable enough without Mandy’s earlier words still bouncing around my head. Put in more effort. Put in the work. She’d said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, but it landed harder than I’d expected. Maybe because she’s not entirely wrong. I don’t necessarily DISAGREE with her assessment that I don’t feel good enough for Kacia. I don’t. But I’m not a complete idiot either, I know exactly how rare someone like her is. Even if I lived another hundred years, the odds of finding someone else even close to her… Slim. And if I did? The odds they’d want me back? Even worse. And yet, I STILL don’t believe it’s possible for this to work. Wouldn’t it be… Cruel? To push forward like there’s a happy ending waiting for us, to act like we can fix every obstacle in our way, when realistically, there’s every chance it ends badly? If it ends in exactly the way I’ve been telling her it will? That doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep searching for a way around it, I will. I’ve already resigned myself to that, but I’m not going to TELL her. If I fail, I don’t want her to know I even tried. False hope is just another way to wound someone. I’ve never HEARD of a Kakos demon having a long term, serious relationship with anyone who wasn’t one of our own. There’s a reason we keep to ourselves, why we’ve earned a reputation for being cold, unfriendly, unwilling to mix. It’s not arrogance. It’s survival. Getting attached to someone outside our kind… It’s a risk. A big one. It would have been less complicated if I’d never gotten close to her. It would hurt less, too. And still… Even knowing all of that… I can’t bring myself to regret it. Not for a second.

When we get home, Kacia heads down the hall to get ready for bed, and I do the same. Or at least, I go through the motions. I watch her disappear into her room, her bed. Not just comfortable, but also the place where she’ll be curled up, breathing softly, warm in a way that makes me feel so content when I’m next to her. Instead, I lower myself onto the too small couch with a heavy sigh. The armrest digs into my shoulder, and my legs hang uncomfortably over the side. It’s fine. It’s… Appropriate. Fifteen minutes later, Kacia reappears in the doorway, hair loose, hands planted firmly on her hips. The look she gives me is pure disbelief.

“Seriously? You’re banishing yourself to the couch?” She demands. I shrug like it doesn’t matter. 

“It seems appropriate.” I answer quietly. She rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out. 

“It seems stupid. You’ve been sharing my bed for days, you don’t have to stop now just because you might not stick around long term.” She insists. I rub a hand over my jaw. 

“I don’t want to lead you on. Or give you false hope.” I say, my tone guilty. She crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed. 

“I’m not a child, Oz. I UNDERSTAND that you’re planning to leave, but that’s no reason you should suffer on the couch in the meantime. We can both be reasonable here. It’s not like I’m going to jump you or something.” She says bluntly. My tail flicks once, betraying me before I can school my expression. The image hits me faster than I expect it to, her closing the distance, deciding for me, and part of me wishes she would. Just to make the choice for me, to end this constant fight in my own head. But the rest of me? Terrified. Because the risk of seeing that same look in her eyes, the fear from before, is something I’ll never willingly face again.

“I never said you were…” I mutter. 

“Then what’s the problem?” She demands.

“I’M the problem!” I snap, sharper than intended. 

“I trust YOU. It’s ME I don’t trust. I don’t want to hurt you again, and I won’t risk it.” I say firmly. Kacia exhales slowly, and I can see the way her shoulders soften. 

“Fine. I’ll let it be. But I want to make it clear, I’m not dropping it because I don’t trust you. I’m dropping it because I can see it would make you uncomfortable, and I don’t want that.” She explains. Then, her voice dips, quieter. 

“Good night, Oz. Sleep well, if you can on the couch. If you change your mind, I’m just down the hall…” She trails off, then turns and walks away. And I just sit there, staring at the empty space she left behind, wondering when exactly I started being more afraid of myself than anything else.

The couch groans every time I shift, which is often, because there’s no position that doesn’t feel like I’m either going to cramp or slide onto the floor. The house is quiet, save for the occasional tick of cooling pipes and the faint hum of the fridge. My senses reach further without me meaning them to. Down the hall, her bedroom door is shut but not all the way. Just enough that I can hear the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing. Slow, even… Peaceful in a way I rarely get to see when she’s awake. I stare at the ceiling. Try closing my eyes. Doesn’t matter. That sound anchors me as much as it torments me. It would be so easy to stand, pad quietly down the hall, slip into that room. I could tell myself it’s just for comfort, just to keep watch. She’s told me more than once I’m welcome there. But I know better. I’d stay. I wouldn’t just keep watch, I’d take in the warmth of her, the way she curls toward me in her sleep, and I’d stop pretending I can walk away when this is all over. And then… When the inevitable happened… I’d see the hurt in her eyes. The loss. My tail coils tighter around my ankle. I force myself to stay put. Still… I listen. Until the steady sound of her breathing blurs the edges of my own thoughts, lulling me toward something that might eventually pass for sleep.

Predictably, I sleep poorly. The couch is no worse than I expected, but the real problem is my head. Even with exhaustion dragging at me, my thoughts keep circling. By the time the first light of dawn pushes through the blinds, I’ve given up on pretending I’m asleep. I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and let the early light spill across the room in pale gold. Outside, the world is quiet, but inside me… It’s all noise. I should feel triumphant. The gang of drainers is finished, Mikey and his people will have the last of them in custody before the day’s out. The men who chained me, drained me, left me on the edge of death… They’re about to rot behind bars. That SHOULD bring satisfaction.But it doesn’t. It’s an empty victory. Maybe because every step forward brings me closer to the end of this… To leaving Kacia. Once the drainer mess is tied off, all that’s left is the bigger fight, the fae lord who wants her dead. Find him. Convince him otherwise, by whatever means necessary and have my bindings removed. And after that… After that, I’m supposed to go home. My gaze drops to the dark vine like markings winding up my forearms, stark against my skin in the morning light. I flex my fingers, watching the lines shift slightly with the movement. I should hate them. They’re a binding, chains in another form. They’re what’s trapping me here, cutting me off from my magic, from my autonomy. A constant reminder that I’m not free. And yet… There’s relief in them. A twisted, shameful kind. Because as long as they’re still there, I have to stay. And as long as I’m stuck here, I don’t have to make the final choice. I don’t have to ‘do the right thing.’ Not yet.