Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 94

**KACIA**

Angelo freezes like I’ve just asked him to relive his own execution. His cheerful expression stays locked in place, but it’s the wrong kind of stillness, too deliberate, too careful. Instantly, my stomach knots. Guilt, hot and fast.

“You can say no if it’s too uncomfortable for you.” I tell him quickly. His shoulders loosen just a fraction, relief flickering across his face before he gives a small nod. That’s when Oz makes this low, rumbling sound, half protest, half warning. I shoot him a glare that I fully intend to translate to drop it. He doesn’t.

“Angelo…” Oz starts, and my heart sinks.

“What Kacia isn’t telling you, is that we want information to try and find and stop the person who keeps trying to kill her. This information could very likely save her life.”Hesays, voice firm but not unkind. I whip my head toward him, narrowing my eyes in a ‘what the hell?’ glare. He just meets it head on, eyebrow arched like he dares me to contradict him. I didn’t want to tell Angelo that. It’s practically the same as forcing him. He’s too sweet to refuse after hearing it. We could have found another way to get answers. Probably.

“Oz! That wasn’t fair.” I lecture. He looks entirely unrepentant. 

“Yeah, well maybe you’re just a better person than I am, because quite frankly I don’t care if it was fair or not. I promised to keep you safe, and that’s what I’m going to do, even if it means asking uncomfortable questions and doing the things you won’t.” He says hotly. My hands curl into fists. 

“Well maybe I don’t want to trade my friend’s pain for my safety!” I argue. Oz rolls his eyes, sharp and annoyed. 

“And maybe your friends should be the ones to decide that. You want to risk facing my magic again and you’re angry at me for not letting you take that risk. You can’t have it both ways, princess. Either people are allowed to decide what risks they’re willing to take, or they aren’t. And it would be more cruel to let Angelo make that decision without having all the information.” His voice spikes at the end, not shouting but close enough to make the room feel smaller. His tail flicks once, twice, snapping through the air like punctuation.

“But I…” My protest falters. My shoulders sag. Damn it, he kind of has a point. Part of trusting people is trusting them to manage their own responses. By hiding the whole truth from Angelo, I wasn’t protecting him, I was implying he couldn’t handle it. That’s… Not fair. I exhale slowly, forcing my voice to soften. 

“You’re… Right. I’m sorry, Oz. And to you too, Angelo. It was rude of me.” I apologise. Angelo’s nod is quick, almost too quick, more about ending the awkwardness than absolving me. Then Oz steps closer, his expression shifting just enough that I see the edge of his frustration give way to something gentler. His arm slides around me almost reluctantly, pulling me in against his chest. It’s warm there, solid. Safe.

“I shouldn’t have yelled…” He murmurs, voice lower now. 

“I just wish you’d prioritise yourself a little more sometimes. You make me worry.” He admits. The words hit harder than I expect. I sigh and lean into him, letting myself enjoy it for a moment, the steady weight of his arm, the feel of his chest under my cheek, even though I know it’s only a matter of time before he pulls back and reminds me not to get used to this. Because he’s still planning to leave. 

Mikey clears his throat loudly, and I jolt, realising that he and his wife have been standing there the whole time watching us like we’re some soap opera they’ve been following for weeks. Mikey’s wearing a shit eating grin so smug it makes me want to throw a cushion at him. Sarah, on the other hand, has this soft, sappy expression, the kind you get when you catch sight of a couple doing something unintentionally sweet.

“You’re right, Mike, they are sweet together.” She says, like we’ve just been caught holding hands under the bleachers at school. I go red instantly. As predicted, Oz reacts like he’s been burned, stepping back so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t trip over the coffee table. Distance successfully re-established. Sigh. Meanwhile, I can only imagine what kind of embellished, completely one-sided ‘stories’ Mikey has been telling his wife about Oz and me. A soft tapping draws my attention. I glance over to see Angelo lifting a glass of milk, his little fingers wrapped around it like it’s armour. He downs a couple of big gulps, swallows, then turns toward me with more seriousness than I think I’ve ever seen on his face.

“I would like to help you.” He says quietly. My first instinct is to protect him. 

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. I can find answers somewhere else.” I offer again. He shakes his head once, firmly. 

“I want to help.” He insists. I study him for a second, small but steady, nervous but resolute. Then I smile, and this one isn’t teasing or calculated, it’s just soft. 

“You’re a good man, Angelo. Thank you.” I say sincerely. The tips of his ears turn pink. Sarah claps her hands together like she’s just decided the whole matter is settled.

 “Well then! Now that’s sorted out, why don’t you all take a seat and I’ll find some snacks for everyone?” She declares. Before I can even agree, she’s already herding Oz toward the couch like she’s corralling a particularly large and suspicious cat. He goes, looking vaguely bemused at how easily she’s managed to manoeuvre him.

Once we’re all settled, Sarah has given Oz a plate of biscuits he clearly doesn’t know what to do with, and Mikey’s sprawled in the armchair like he’s watching a good interrogation scene, I turn to Angelo.

“Look, I don’t want to ask you anything uncomfortable or make you talk about anything private. So I’ll just tell you our goal, and maybe you can decide if you think you’ll be able to help at all?” I begin carefully. Angelo nods slowly, both hands wrapped around his milk glass like it’s the only thing tethering him in place.

“Okay, great. So…” I take a breath. 

“As you know, I’m half fae. My father is, or was, fae. I’m not quite sure if he’s alive or not.” My voice dips a little at that, and I clear my throat when I catch Sarah’s pitying glance. I hate that look. 

“Anyway… I believe the person who’s been sending assassins after me is most likely my paternal grandfather. The thing is, I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m harassing him for inheritance or any crap like that. So, basically, I’m hoping to find out why he’s got it out for me, and maybe if there’s any way to make him back off.” I explain. I lean forward slightly. 

“I can’t think of anyone who might know other than a fae. So… Do you know any way I might be able to contact one? Or ideally, a fae who might actually be willing to speak to me?” I ask, then I stop. I don’t fill the silence, don’t rush him. Just wait, practically holding my breath, watching his expression flicker between uncertainty and thought. 

“I… I don’t know,” Angelo admits finally. 

“I… I might have a way to contact one fae, or rather, I know how I can send that fae a message. But I don’t know if she would be willing to talk to you or not.” He says slowly. I frown. 

“Can’t you give me the information and I’ll do it myself? I don’t want to drag you into this further, and I certainly don’t want to endanger you or risk some fae imprisoning you again.” I tell him, concerned. He shakes his head, more firmly this time. 

“That’s not how it works. I’m free now. The fae can’t claim me without a contract. It… It should be reasonably safe. I think.” He says quietly. My stomach does a small, nervous flip. That ‘I think’ wasn’t especially comforting.

“I’ll be okay.” Angelo adds, a touch more confidently. 

“It’s just sending a message. I can let you know how it goes.” He promises. I want to argue. I really want to argue. But Angelo isn’t a child, and as I was reminded not long ago, it’s not my place to decide what he can and can’t handle.

“Okay.” I say finally, soft but sincere. 

“Thank you, Angelo.” I add. He gives me a nervous but proud smile. Please let this turn out okay!