She grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, slipped inside and moved cautiously as her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the long wide hallway. She breathed through a momentary flare of panic, held it together and focused on the lights ahead of her. She was fine. There was light there. She just had to reach it.
Her vision adjusted again as she reached the end of the corridor and the space opened up into a huge room on her left. The wall to her right continued in a straight line, running behind a long bar lit by lazily rotating coloured lights that glinted off the rows of bottles lined up in front of mirrored panels.
“Hartt?” The soft female voice arrested Mackenzie’s focus, had her gaze leaping from the impressive collection of bottles of alcohol to the owner of it—a stunning, ethereally beautiful woman with sleek black hair and a figure to die for clad in black leather trousers and a dark spaghetti-strap camisole.
Mackenzie’s gaze darted to Hartt and she didn’t miss how he rubbed the back of his neck or how he couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at the female.
The elf female.
The jaguar growled when Hartt finally lifted his head and locked his eyes on the woman, and Mackenzie realised something.
They had come here to warn someone he cared about.
The elf.
“Iolanthe,” Hartt started and then frowned at the jaguar when he growled again, when he moved to the elf female and wrapped his arm around her tiny waist in a possessive move.
Mackenzie lingered by the hallway, in the shadows, her feet set in concrete as she stared at Hartt and began to fear he more than cared about this elf female.
He had feelings for her.
He had feelings for her and the jaguar knew it, and that was the reason the male had attacked him the moment he had set eyes on him. Instinct had made the shifter want to fight him to keep him away from his female.
“Who is this?” Iolanthe leaned to her right, away from the jaguar, and peered past Hartt to Mackenzie.
Mackenzie’s first instinct was to shrink back into the shadows, but she forced herself to take a step into the light instead, revealing herself to the elf. Iolanthe was beautiful, but males had called Mackenzie that too in the past, had complimented her on her good looks. She willed Hartt to look at her, and ignored the stinging sensation in her heart when he didn’t.
“I’m an assassin. The witch we came to warn you about hired me too.” She realised she was getting ahead of herself when the jaguar and Iolanthe both frowned at her, a confused edge to their expressions.
“An assassin?” The jaguar raked his gaze over her.
Mackenzie didn’t miss that this time, Hartt didn’t react to a male looking at her.
He was too busy staring at Iolanthe. The jaguar’s golden gaze shifted to Hartt and his lips peeled back off his teeth, flashing short canines.
“I thought you did not employ females?” Iolanthe cast a look at her too.
When her incredible violet eyes darted back to Hartt for an answer, Mackenzie was the one who wanted to growl.
“We don’t.” The hard edge to Hartt’s deep voice sharpened to a blade that cut her as he added, “Females are a liability.”
She curled her fingers into fists and clenched them. Females were a liability? Like she was some weak maiden who needed protecting and couldn’t handle herself? What era was he from to think like that?
The jaguar leaned slightly to his left and gave her a look, one that rankled and had her glaring at him. His right eyebrow rose. She didn’t care if she was misreading why he was looking at her, didn’t care if he was on her side and had wanted to show her that, or whether he was simply trying to see what Hartt had—a weak female.
A liability.
Her nails dug into her palms. She gritted her teeth and bit her tongue to stop herself from saying something as the jaguar turned to Iolanthe. The words died in her throat anyway as she looked at Iolanthe too, as she stood there like an idiot wondering whether Hartt would think the elf a liability if she wanted to join his guild.
He would probably welcome her with open arms.
It hit Mackenzie that she was more than an idiot.
She was a godsdamned fool.
An ache slowly grew in her chest as she watched Hartt talking to Iolanthe and the jaguar, as she noticed the way his violet gaze strayed back to the beautiful elf female every minute without fail.
As she noticed the unmistakable warmth that shone in his eyes whenever they landed on her.
And she had the feeling he would never look at her like that.
As if she was special. As if she was beautiful. As if she was the centre of his universe.
His whole world.
She eased a step back into the shadows as she realised something else.
He was in love with Iolanthe.
Hurt welled, a poisonous tide that scoured her insides and left her hollow, had her taking another step backwards, some ridiculous part of her willing him to notice the distance that was growing between them. He didn’t. He only made things worse.
He smiled at Iolanthe.
That smile felt like a fist around Mackenzie’s heart, crushing it and setting it alight at the same time, burning it to ashes in her chest.
She sucked down a breath, pivoted on her heel and forced herself to move. She gained speed with each step, until she was almost jogging as she struggled to breathe, as she fought the pain that tore at her heart.
Fool.
She eased the door open rather than shoved it and slipped silently out into the night.
The backs of her eyes burned, a headache brewing as pressure built inside her, as her blood blazed like liquid fire. She took brisk steps along the alley, her strides long, her heart aching with each one.
“Damn him,” she muttered.
Damn herself too.
She had been a fool to think she could trust him, for convincing herself to lower her guard and let someone in for the first time in a long time, breaking the rules she had set down for herself. She had been a fool for believing things would turn out the way she wanted.
For a moment there, it had truly looked as if they would.
Her eyes were open now though. Hartt had feelings for Iolanthe, and Mackenzie refused to play second fiddle to another woman. She was better off without him.
She tipped her head back as the rain grew heavier, welcomed the cold kiss of it on her face rather than hating it for once. It cooled her overheating skin, washed away the evidence of her hurt, and dampened her senses.
Yet she still reached out with them.
Her jaw tensed as she realised what she was doing.
She had run away from Hartt, had slipped out and was now hoping he had noticed she was gone. She wanted him to come after her.
To choose her.
Mackenzie shook that weak, pathetic need off with a growl. She didn’t need him. She only needed her guild. She was more than capable of defending herself against a witch. She had proven that more than once in her life. She had taken out a whole coven of the bastards and if she had to die to take down this one witch too, she would gladly put herself through that hell.
She didn’t need Hartt.
She would handle this alone, or at least with the help of Syn. Two capable women. Not a man in sight. Men were the liability. A danger she didn’t need. Yet part of her was still focused behind her, hoping Hartt would come running after her like some terrible romance movie cliché.
The rain grew heavier, falling in a thick sheet that soaked her to the bone, stuck her black shirt to her shoulders and worsened her mood.