Surviving My Deadly Contract Beast Husbands

I died in the apocalypse, only to wake up as Kenzie Banks, a bankrupt high-society monster in an interstellar beast-world. But before I could even process my new reality, a cold AI voice informed me of my impending death. "Your contract beast-husbands possess the legal right to execute you at the end of the two-month trial period." I rushed to the basement and saw the horrific truth. The original Kenzie had starved them, whipped them with thermal blades, sent their brothers to die as cannon fodder, and framed the youngest to rot in a maximum-security prison. Now, these lethal, broken men were methodically planning to rip my organs out the second the contract dissolved. To make matters worse, she had squandered her fortune on a man who despised her, leaving me two million credits in debt and facing imminent exile to the deadly wastelands. I had survived rotting zombies on Earth, only to be trapped in a weak, universally hated body, doomed to be butchered by the very people I was supposed to call family. Why did I have to pay the ultimate price for a psychotic woman's deadly sins? I refused to just sit around and wait for my execution. Tapping into my apocalyptic subspace inventory, I hauled out military-grade rations, healed their bleeding wounds, and slammed a legally binding divorce contract on the table. If I wanted to survive this sixty-day countdown, I had to turn my executioners into my loyal allies—starting with breaking the husband she framed out of prison.

Chapters

Chapter 3

She took a step back toward the safety of the hallway, but a massive, bone-rattling thud echoed from the basement. The floorboards beneath her feet vibrated.

She froze. She crept back to the railing and peered down through the narrow gap in the metal spindles.

Josue was on the floor. His body was contorted in an unnatural angle. His muscles spasmed violently, bulging under his skin as if something was trying to claw its way out of him.

His green eyes were gone. They were entirely, terrifyingly red.

"Warning," Sev's voice chimed in her head. "Target is experiencing an ability rampage. This is a fatal backlash caused by severe lack of female spiritual soothing."

Alfie dropped to his knees. Panic shattered his cold exterior. He shoved both hands against Josue's chest, a massive surge of blue water energy erupting from his palms.

Josue roared. It wasn't a human sound. It was the raw, deafening roar of a wild beast.

A shockwave of kinetic energy blasted out from Josue's body. Alfie was thrown backward, slamming hard into the concrete wall. He coughed, sliding to the floor.

Josue's fingernails elongated into thick, black claws. He dragged them across the metal floor, tearing deep grooves into the steel. He was losing his mind. He was looking up toward the stairs. Toward her.

He knew she was up there. The beast inside him wanted to tear her apart to stop the pain.

But Josue didn't lunge for the stairs.

Instead, his eyes locked onto a rusted metal cart left near the cell bars—a tray the original Kenzie had used for her twisted interrogations. He lunged, stretching his arm to the absolute limit, and snatched a serrated thermal-blade from the pile. Without a second of hesitation, he drove the six-inch blade straight into his own leg.

Blood sprayed across the floor, splattering against Alfie's pale face.

She clamped both hands over her mouth, biting down on her own finger to keep from screaming. Her stomach violently heaved.

Josue ripped the blade out. He gasped, his chest heaving as he sucked in oxygen. The extreme physical agony forced the red out of his eyes. The green slowly returned.

He dropped the knife. It clattered loudly against the floor.

Alfie scrambled forward. He grabbed the hem of his own shirt, ripped it off, and tied it tightly around Josue's bleeding thigh.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" Alfie's voice broke. His hands were shaking as he pulled the knot tight.

Josue leaned his head back against the wall, his face completely drained of color. "Because if I don't, I'll go up there and beg that bitch to touch me. I'd rather bleed to death."

Alfie's jaw clenched. Tears of pure frustration pooled in his eyes. "Look what she's done to us. The Douglas brothers sent to the front lines as cannon fodder. Dallin rotting in a maximum-security prison because she framed him. And now this."

Josue grabbed Alfie's wrist. His grip was weak, but his eyes were lethal. "Two months, Alfie. Just survive two months."

Alfie wiped the blood off his face. His expression turned ice-cold. "I already contacted the cleaner in the black market. The second the contract dissolves, she disappears. No traces."

Her blood ran cold. The temperature in the hallway felt like it had dropped twenty degrees.

These men were broken, desperate, and completely lethal.

Josue's head suddenly snapped up. His wolf ears twitched. He stared directly at the spot on the second floor where she was hiding.

She threw herself backward, pressing her body flat against the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut and stopped breathing. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would crack her ribs.

"What is it?" Alfie asked.

A heavy silence stretched.

"Nothing," Josue muttered. "Lost too much blood. Hearing things."

She waited until she heard the heavy iron door of the basement creak open and shut.

She let out a shaky breath, her lungs burning for air. She pushed herself off the wall and sprinted silently down the hall.

She shoved open the door to the master suite's walk-in closet and locked it behind her.

The motion sensors activated. Brilliant, warm light flooded the room.

She slumped against the door, sliding down until she hit the floor.

She looked up. The closet was the size of a small apartment. Floor-to-ceiling glass display cases lined the walls. Hundreds of designer bags, diamond-encrusted heels, and haute couture dresses stared back at her.

It was a sickening display of wealth built on the suffering of the men downstairs.

She wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. She chewed hard on the inside of her cheek.

She needed food. She needed medicine. She needed money.

She pushed herself off the floor. She walked over to a shelf holding a row of exotic leather bags.

In the apocalypse, a diamond ring couldn't buy a sip of dirty water. But here? This was her ticket out of hell.

Continue to next part

I spent forty hours hand-beading a gown for a woman who was currently sleeping with my husband. My fingers were raw, my vision blurred, and the needle had just driven deep into my index finger, leaving a drop of blood on the silk. Braxton walked into our penthouse, rain dripping from his suit, and didn't even look at me. But the scent hit me instantly—Bulgarian rose and white musk. It was the custom perfume Griselda, my own sister, commissioned in Paris. I had spent three years as a ghost in my own marriage, sewing costumes for the woman who had haunted my vows since day one. Braxton didn't bother to hide it anymore; there was a smudge of her coral lipstick on his collar. He didn't offer an explanation, only a command to finish the gown for the Met Gala so I wouldn't embarrass them. My mother called moments later, her voice sharp with the usual dismissal. She didn't care that I was bleeding or that my husband was cheating with my sister. She only cared that I was "falling behind" on Griselda's gown. I sat in the silence of that cold, marble cage, staring at the needle in my hand. For years, I had swallowed every insult and stitched every lie, believing I was the capable one who had to make them happy. But as the clock ticked, a door inside me finally clicked shut. I wasn't just tired; I was finished. I set the needle down, picked up my phone, and dialed my sister’s number to tell her she’d have to find someone else to bleed for her.

Horror Modern Romance

9.3

Bound By Contract To The Beast Warlord

9.3

I woke up in a freezing, desolate wasteland, my body weak and covered in sores. A mechanical voice in my head informed me that I was a defective rabbit-mutant, and if I didn't conceive within twenty-four hours, I would die permanently. The terror was suffocating, but the system left me no choice. To survive the brutal cold and the decay of my own heartbeat, I had to force a pregnancy with a stranger. I stumbled through the snow, my fingers turning blue, until I found a massive, wounded Arctic Fox-mutant in a dark cave. He was a Tier-9 predator, dying and radiating the exact heat I needed to stay alive. I threw away my dignity, crawling into his fur to merge our energies, desperate to trigger the life-reset protocol before my time ran out. I felt like a monster, forcing myself onto a man who didn't even know I existed, just to keep my own heart beating. How could I ever face him if he woke up? Why did I have to be the one to pay the price for this twisted, mechanical ultimatum? The fusion was a success, but when I woke up the next morning, the apex predator had me pinned under his massive claws, his fangs inches from my throat. I didn't beg for mercy. I stared into his feral, ice-blue eyes and made a deal that would change everything: I would be his anchor, and he would be my protector. But then I dropped the final, terrifying truth: I was pregnant, and he was the only one who could save us.

Horror LitRPG Romance Sci-Fi Vampire

8.9

Claimed By The Husband's Ruthless Uncle

8.9

Audrey Fletcher was forced to marry the notorious playboy Julian Sterling to save her family's sinking company after her sister ran away. On their wedding night, her new husband threw a $100,000 check at her face, told her they would be strangers in private, and abandoned her in the bridal suite. She thought being trapped in a loveless, transactional marriage was the worst fate possible. She was wrong. To protect herself, Audrey hung a pair of men's boxer shorts on her balcony to fake a lover's presence. Instead of deterring her husband, the ridiculous ruse brought Alistair Sterling—Julian's terrifying, powerful uncle and the true puppet master of the family. He stormed into her apartment with a legal team to catch her cheating, and later even offered her ten million dollars to divorce his nephew. When she refused out of fear of her own family's ruin, the situation escalated. Forced to attend a charity gala, Audrey was tricked by staff into wearing a scandalous, backless gown and sent to a dark penthouse suite to beg her husband for peace. But the man waiting in the shadows wasn't Julian. It was Alistair. "Does the thought of seducing your husband's uncle give you a special kind of thrill?" He didn't listen to her desperate explanations. Instead, he pinned her arms behind her back and crushed his mouth against hers in a brutal, punishing kiss. Trembling with terror and revulsion, Audrey bit his lip until she tasted blood, shoved the billionaire away, and ran for her life. She couldn't understand why this powerful man was so dangerously obsessed with destroying her sham marriage. But as she fled into the cold city night, she realized the terrifying truth: the real game was just beginning.

Horror Modern Romance

9.6

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

9.6

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

Horror Modern Romance

8.2

Falling For My Dead Husband's Ghost

8.2

To save my brother's life, I married a dead billionaire. My new home was a freezing, high-tech mausoleum where I was ordered to hold a year-long vigil beside Byron Hyde's cryogenic pod. But I wasn't alone in the dark. Every night, a terrifying shadow smelling of whiskey and sandalwood pinned me to my narrow bed. It tore my clothes and brutally claimed my body, leaving me bruised and trembling until dawn. When I begged the housekeeper for help, showing her my torn skin, she just smiled cruelly. "It seems the master's spirit has accepted you." I thought I was being haunted by a vengeful ghost, until Byron's arrogant nephew broke into the tomb to assault me. His tampering triggered the life-support system, and the heavy lid of the pod hissed open. Byron Hyde sat up, his eyes lethal and his skin shockingly warm. He was alive. Looking at his broad shoulders, I caught the faint scent of whiskey and sandalwood. The horrific truth hit me like a physical blow. My nightly tormentor wasn't a ghost. It was my living, breathing husband. When I confronted him, his eyes were cold and clinical. "That was a necessary test. I had to know if my wife would break." A white-hot rage choked me, but I didn't scream or run. He slipped the priceless, heavy sapphire of the family matriarch onto my finger, offering me absolute power over the treacherous relatives who wanted us both dead. To fight a monster, you can't be a victim. I looked into his deep, dangerous eyes and accepted the ring. If this was a cage, allying with the keeper was the only way to find the key.

Horror Modern Romance

9.6

My Dying Wish: A Fiancé's Betrayal

9.6

My family and fiancé begged me to donate my last remaining kidney to my twin sister, Kyleigh. They didn't know I was already dying. My fiancé, Axel, gave me an ultimatum. "Donate the kidney, or I'll break our engagement and marry Kyleigh. It's her dying wish." I agreed, only for them to frame me for plagiarism with my own thesis, forcing me to confess on camera. They never knew I was the one who secretly saved our father with my other kidney five years ago-a sacrifice Kyleigh had stolen all the credit for. As they wheeled me into the operating room, they celebrated with Kyleigh, promising her a future built on my death. I was already a ghost to them. But I died on the table. The surgeon, seeing the old surgical scar and the poison riddling my body, walked out to face them. "This wasn't a donation," she announced, her voice cold as steel. "This was murder."

Horror Mystery Romance

Surviving My Deadly Contract Beast Husbands

Chapter 3

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