Chapter 5 The Chaos of Floor 28

Ysara POV

Suddenly it felt like there was no air to be had. I couldn't breathe. It was fucking unfair that these men were not only filthy rich, but they were literally drool worthy sexy.

Wyatt was stupid tall, at least 6'4, with dark hair, shoulders that could bench-press a small planet, and eyes the color of literal moonlight and steel.

His twin Rafe was just as tall, with a jaw cut like it was sculpted out of spite, with the same dark hair but messier, and eyes that glowed golden.

I’d always found their eye colors strange. Nobody had metallic irises naturally. I assumed wealth, surgery, or colored contacts. People did weirder things when they had money.

But today…both sets of eyes looked feral. Predatory even. Both twins slowed their stride when they entered the office. Their gazes landed on me like a physical force. Gold eyes. Silver eyes. Both watching.

Heat flickered under my skin. A pulse of electric energy shot through my chest hard enough to make me inhale sharply. My heart hammered.

Evander leaned close, and whispered, “Don’t make eye contact. They can smell fear.”

“What the fuck?” I hissed.

“Nothing,” he squeaked, smiling too wide. “Just… pretend to be normal.”

Normal? I felt like lightning wearing a pencil skirt.

Wyatt brushed past my desk first. His gaze caught mine and held it. Something in my belly tightened so abruptly I almost doubled over. Rafe followed, his golden eyes sweeping over me like he was cataloging every breath I’d ever taken.

Neither spoke. Neither smiled. But they watched me like I was a puzzle they suddenly needed to solve. When they finally disappeared into their private elevator, the pressure in the room snapped.

I sucked in air like I’d been drowning. “What the fuck was that shit?”

Evander wiped sweat from his forehead. “I have no idea, darling, but if this turns into a workplace romantic thriller, I am not covering your share of the legal fees.”

I didn’t laugh. I couldn’t. Something was happening inside me. And I didn’t know if it was destiny, or disaster....

.....or the beginning of the end.

~~~~~

Wyatt Wylde POV

The moment the office door shut behind us, I felt Vraeos slam into my consciousness so hard my vision flashed white.

"She is changing," he growled. "She is awakening."

“I know,” I muttered, pacing across the room. “Calm down.”

"I will not calm down," he snapped. "For six months you have denied me access to her. For six months you have pretended she was just an employee. For six months you have forced us to starve."

I closed my eyes. Six months. Six months since Ysara Hartwell stepped into our tower with her mismatched earrings, pastel hair, curvy hips, messy smile, razor wit, and absolute hurricane of a presence.

Six months of watching her take over the 28th floor the same way storms take over skies, noisy, bright, and hella unpredictable. Six months of pretending I didn’t hear her laugh from two floors away.

Six months of pretending the scent of her, citrus, rain, and something ancient, didn’t trigger instincts I’d spent a lifetime suppressing. Six months of pretending I wasn’t using burner accounts to watch her OnlyFans.

Her content was deliciously explicit....and even worse. It was intimate. Confident, and playful. Unapologetically her. She made eye contact with the camera like she knew who she was talking to. Like she knew someone out there was coming undone over her.

I had four burner accounts. Rafe had six. We justified it as “monitoring a human employee for supernatural threats,” but we both knew that was bullshit. We were obsessed, and neither of us had the integrity to deny it.

We had even commissioned custom content, of the filthy ball gag variety, and also videos and pictures where she spoke softer, where she let the armor crack, and where she existed in a way that felt private.

Now she’d signed up for a damn sugar baby site, practically begging predators to sniff her out. A fucking sugar baby website. Fuck. Vraeos snarled again, pacing inside me like a caged storm.

"She is ours. We should have claimed her the moment she walked through our doors."

“Not happening.”

"She is no longer human. She belongs.."

“She belongs to herself,” I snapped. “Stop talking like she’s property.”

Vraeos went eerily quiet. "Then protect her," he finally whispered. "Before someone else takes her."

That shut me up. Because that fear, of losing her to someone who didn’t deserve her, had been clawing at my ribs since last night.

~~~~~

Rafe Wylde POV

Kaedros was pacing too.

"Her aura split open," he murmured. "Did you not feel it? The pulse beneath her skin? She is awakening into something powerful."

“She’s grieving,” I snapped. “She barely slept.”

"Humans do not radiate lightning when they grieve."

He had me there. I turned to the wall of security monitors showing the 28th floor from every angle. There she was. Sitting at her desk. Rubbing her temples. Trying so hard to pretend she was fine when she was absolutely not.

And Evander, gods bless that hybrid menace, was hovering near her like an anxious mother hen. He took a sip from his latte. A latte that contained a full vial of fresh blood. And Ysara? She didn’t even blink.

“How,” I muttered, “is she the smartest idiot alive?”

Wyatt snorted. “She once told HR that your tail was ‘a very realistic cosplay prop.’”

I groaned. “She thought Vraeos’s shadow form was a lighting glitch.”

“She believes Evander’s glowing eyes are from seasonal allergies,” Wyatt added.

I dropped my forehead into my hand. “We hired a genius who has the supernatural awareness of a potato.”

"She is not a potato," Kaedros hissed. "She is ours. She is divine. She is..."

“Stop with the ours bullshit,” I snapped out loud.

Wyatt raised a brow. “Kaedros acting feral too?”

“Always.”

We both turned back to the monitors. And then we saw it, the moment Ysara’s fingers drifted up to her neck, touching the skin just below her collarbone. She shivered. We felt it.

Power. Heat. A flare of energy that didn’t belong to any human woman. Kaedros growled.

"She is no longer human. She is the beginning of something old. Something coveted."

Vraeos answered from across the room: "Others will smell it. They will come for her."

And the moment he said it, my stomach dropped. Because we already knew. Last night’s comment section had been a nightmare. Supernaturals all over the country had smelled her distress, her awakening aura, the desperation, and the vulnerability.

And worse, her sugar baby account now had hundreds of messages from beings she should never ever fucking meet.

“She’s being hunted,” I whispered.

Wyatt didn’t disagree.

He just clenched his jaw and watched her on the monitor with something close to dread.

~~~~~

Wyatt POV

Something snapped in me watching her laugh at Evander’s gossip. It was small, soft and tired, but it was real. And gods help me, I loved her real moments.

“Kaedros is right,” I muttered. “We need to protect her.”

Rafe didn’t even blink. “Already planning it.”

“We should cover the hospital bills too.”

“Yes.”

“She’ll be furious.”

“Absolutely.”

Silence.

“Wyatt…” Rafe said softly. “Look at her.”

I did. And everything in me lurched. Because she wasn’t just pretty. She wasn’t just desirable. She wasn’t just a woman we’d fixated on like hungry fools.

She radiated something else. Something dangerous. Something raw. Something that made the beast in me kneel.

Vraeos whispered, "Mate."

I shut my eyes. Hard. “No.”

"Then anchor. Then queen. Then salvation. Call it what you want. She is tied to us."

My breath hitched. Rafe looked as wrecked as I felt.

And out of every nightmare in the supernatural world, nothing terrified me quite as much as the truth settling between us:

We were no longer the only monsters watching her.

~~~~~

Rafe POV

“Wyatt,” I murmured, watching Ysara tuck another strand of hair behind her ear on the screen. “We waited too long.”

He swallowed. “I know.”

Kaedros’s voice rumbled through both our skulls.

"The others have found her scent. If you do not claim her, someone else will."

Wyatt whispered the only answer that mattered.

“We won’t let that happen.”

~~~~~

Ysara POV

The rest of the workday blurred like someone hit fast forward on my life.

Evander kept popping up beside my desk like an overcaffeinated meerkat, sliding snack packs toward me, whispering affirmations, and aggressively redirecting any associates who tried to drop last minute tasks in my inbox.

“Not today,” he’d hiss, swatting them away with a legal pad. “She is fragile. Emotionally tender. Like a very sexy soufflé. Back up.”

I snorted water out my nose at one point. He preened like he’d won something.

And honestly...having him there helped. I didn’t spiral. I didn’t break. I just… worked. Hard, fast, and focused. It was almost meditative, the rhythm of typing and sorting and stamping and ignoring the catastrophic dumpster fire that was my personal life.

Except...every time the twins walked past, my chest pulled tight. Not in the oh my god I’m attracted to my bosses way. More like...Tug. Tug. A weird internal string snapping toward them like I was a compass and they were magnetic north. I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand it.

And my left boob tingled each time they got too close, which was medically concerning in a way I refused to google. By the time the clock hit five, Evander patted my shoulder. “Go home, darling. You survived. Barely, but you survived.”

“Thanks for the emotional triage,” I said, packing my bag.

He winked. “Call me if you need wine, sarcasm, or an alibi.”

I walked out of Wylde & Rafe Tower feeling… lighter. A little proud of myself. A little bouncy, even.

As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I texted Marley.

YSA: Okay… I started the profile.

MARLEY: OHHHHHMYGODDDDDD

MARLEY: WAS IT SEXY

MARLEY: DID YOU LIE AND SAY YOU READ BOOKS YOU DON’T

YSA: I literally do read books, Marley.

MARLEY: WHATEVER

MARLEY: LET ME KNOW HOW IT GOES BABE

I laughed, slid my phone into my bag, and practically skipped to my car. Food first. Always food first.

The tiny Mexican spot down the street smelled like heaven dipped in salsa. They knew me, the chaotic girl with multicolored hair who always tipped too much and talked too fast. I got hugs. I got my usual. I got a second churro “because mija you look skinny today eat.”

I left with a warm bag of happiness and a full heart.

Home was my loft, my chaos sanctuary of plants, witchy decor, abandoned coffee mugs, and three half-finished art projects staring accusingly from the dining table. I kicked off my shoes, flopped into my desk chair, opened my laptop...and froze.

Sugar Daddy Site - Inbox (567 new messages)

“…holy shit.”

I blinked. Refreshed the page. Still 567. Messages from verified profiles. Unverified ones. Ones with crown badges, ones with trust seals. Ones with usernames like “ColoKing72,” “WanderlustInvestor,” and “Mr-Avalanche-MountainDaddy.”

My pulse spiked. This was either: A blessing, A nightmare, or the beginning of the weirdest chapter of my entire existence.

Maybe all three. I clicked the first message.

And the world began to shift.