Rowan POV
The burning started at three in the morning.
Rowan woke gasping, his chest on fire like something was clawing at his ribs from the inside. Not pain exactly. More like a call. A pull. The same sensation that had been living inside him for the last thirty-two years, getting stronger every time he ignored it.
He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom of his penthouse, splashing cold water on his face. The New York skyline glittered behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Somewhere down there in the dark, the thing that was calling him was still pulling. Still burning.
The museum.
That vault.
Rowan gripped the sink and tried to breathe through the sensation. This always happened when he got close. When he found the right place or the right artifact or the right something, his body knew before his mind caught up. Like his skin could taste magic in the air and it was screaming at him to move, to hunt, to find.
The Council had explained it to him years ago when he was still young and confused about why he could sense things other people couldn't. They told him he was special. Gifted. Chosen for something bigger than himself. They gave him money and freedom and a single job. Find the Last City of Living Magic.
Everything else was just background noise.
But this. This pull from the museum's basement. This was different. Stronger. Like the city itself was waking up and calling to him directly.
Rowan dried his face and walked back into the bedroom. His laptop sat open on the nightstand, still showing the museum's website. He'd studied it for hours yesterday. Every floor. Every gallery. Every restricted area marked in red that meant keep out.
Except he could feel past the keep out signs. Could feel the vault behind the reinforced door on the lowest level. Could feel what was inside it calling to his blood like a siren song.
He'd tried to open it yesterday. Just to see if he could. The touch was all he needed. Just fingertips on the metal long enough to feel the magic locked inside, ancient and patient and so impossibly real that it had made his heart stop.
For thirty-two years the Council had told him the Last City was a legend. A myth. A story that might be true somewhere in the world, waiting to be discovered. But yesterday when his skin touched that vault door, he'd known. The city wasn't a myth. It was real. It was close. And it was calling to him.
But there was a problem.
The vault was locked. Reinforced. Protected by layers of security that went beyond normal museum systems. Someone had put serious money and serious magic into keeping that door shut. Someone who knew exactly what they were protecting.
Someone who knew the city existed.
Rowan opened his phone and scrolled through his messages. Dozens from business associates. Expedition leaders wanting to work with him. Rich collectors desperate to hire him for dangerous jobs. He'd built an empire from nothing, turned his curse into a career. Finding impossible things was what he did.
But he'd never found anything like this.
The last message was from last night. Kael Voss. The man who ran everything. The man who had basically raised him after the Council found him as a child and realized what he could do.
"The museum has what we need. Acquire it."
That was all Kael ever said. Acquire. Find. Obtain. Never explain. Never question. Just do.
Rowan had learned long ago that questioning Kael got you nowhere good.
He showered and dressed in clothes that said money and confidence. Dark jeans. A shirt that cost more than most people's rent. Leather jacket. The kind of look that made security guards hesitant to ask questions because he clearly belonged everywhere. He studied his reflection in the mirror. Gray eyes. Dark curling hair. The kind of face that made people want to help him. The Council had told him it was a gift. Rowan had learned it was a tool.
By nine in the morning, he was walking through the museum's main entrance like he owned the place.
The building was already filling with tourists and school groups and the kind of people who came on weekday mornings because they had nothing else to do. Rowan ignored all of them. He moved through the crowd with purpose, heading toward the information desk where a young woman was checking in visitors.
He'd done this a thousand times. Asked questions about restricted areas. Charmed his way past guards. Convinced curators to show him things they weren't supposed to show. It was easy when you had money and confidence and a face that made people want to say yes.
The woman at the desk looked up when he approached and her eyes went a little wider. Rowan smiled. That smile had opened locked doors. That smile had gotten him access to private collections and hidden vaults and things that were supposed to stay hidden.
"I'm looking for someone," he said, keeping his voice smooth. Friendly. The kind of voice that didn't sound like it was asking for anything dangerous. "A curator. She works with artifacts. Paranormal research, I think. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. I think I saw her yesterday in the restricted area?"
The woman's expression shifted. Became guarded. "I'm not sure I know who you mean. All our staff is covered under privacy protection."
"Of course," Rowan said, still smiling. Still harmless. "I just wanted to ask her about a specific artifact. An old mirror from Prague. I think it came through here recently."
The woman was about to say no. Rowan could see it forming in her mouth. But then something shifted in her expression. Something went soft. Like his face was overriding her brain's ability to refuse him.
"Third floor," she said quietly. "Research department. Dr. Chen handles most of the artifact acquisitions, but there's a younger woman who works with the restricted collection. She might be able to help you."
Rowan thanked her and moved away before she could change her mind.
The third floor was quieter than the main galleries. Research departments usually were. A few people moved between offices. Computers hummed. The smell of old paper and preservation chemicals hung in the air. He walked past them all, looking for something. Looking for that same pull he'd felt in the basement. That same call that had woken him up burning at three in the morning.
It came from an office at the end of the hallway.
The door was closed but Rowan could feel it anyway. Magic. Beneath the surface. Hidden carefully but still humming underneath everything like a second heartbeat. Someone in that office was keeping something important very secret.
He knocked.
For a moment nothing happened. Then the door opened and Rowan stopped breathing.
She was nothing like he expected. Tall enough that she could look him almost in the eye. Dark skin and darker eyes that seemed to see straight through him. Black hair braided with silver threads that caught the light. And when his gaze met hers, something in his chest shifted. Recognized. Called out to something inside her that he could feel calling back.
She was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with her face and everything to do with the raw power he could sense coiled inside her. Controlled. Dangerous. Waiting.
"Can I help you?" she asked. Her voice was careful. Guarded. Like she already knew he was trouble.
"I hope so," Rowan said. "I'm researching a specific artifact. A fifteenth-century mirror from Prague. Summoning Mirror, I think it was called. I believe you have it here?"
The woman's expression went completely still. For just a fraction of a second, Rowan saw something flash across her face. Surprise. Recognition. Fear.
Then she closed it all down. "We don't have anything like that. You've been misinformed."
"I could have sworn," Rowan started but she was already closing the door.
"Good day," she said. And the door clicked shut between them.
Rowan stood in the hallway staring at that closed door. His chest was still burning. Still calling. Still reaching out toward that magic he could feel on the other side of the wood. Toward her. Toward the woman who had looked at him like she recognized something in him. Something dangerous.
Something she knew she should be afraid of.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out and checked the message. Unknown number. He knew exactly who it was from anyway. Kael always texted from different phones. Always stayed untraceable.
"You are close. Do not fail us."
Rowan stared at the words. Then looked back at the door. At the woman inside who was the key to everything. The woman who guarded the magic that was calling to him. The woman whose eyes had held secrets that matched his own.
He was close.
Closer than he'd ever been.
And he was about to destroy everything she was protecting.