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Surviving My Deadly Contract Beast Husbands Novel Cover

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.
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Chapter 6

She sat at the head of the long, polished dining table in the living room. She tapped her fingernails against the wood, the rhythmic sound echoing in the empty space.

Ten minutes passed.

The door leading to the basement opened.

Alfie walked out first, supporting Josue. Josue was limping heavily, his face pale and covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Behind them walked Buren. He had shifted back into his human form—a towering, broad-shouldered man who looked like he could bench-press a truck. But he walked with his shoulders hunched, trying to make himself look as small as possible.

They stopped at the opposite end of the table. They stood there, a united front of hatred and suspicion.

Josue's green eyes locked onto her. The violent energy from his earlier rampage was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating fury.

Buren peeked out from behind Alfie's shoulder. His eyes immediately darted to the handful of nutrient fluid vials she had placed on the table. He swallowed hard.

She pointed to the three empty chairs near them. "Sit down."

Nobody moved.

Alfie let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "What's the catch, Kenzie? Are the chairs rigged with high-voltage shocks? Or did you just coat the cushions in contact poison?"

She pressed her lips together. She stood up.

She walked down the length of the table. When she reached their end, they instinctively tensed.

She grabbed the first chair, pulled it out, and sat down hard. She bounced on the cushion. She stood up, moved to the second chair, and did the same. Then the third.

She looked at Alfie. "Safe enough for you?"

The three men stared at her. Total bewilderment washed over their faces. The original Kenzie would rather die than perform such an undignified, ridiculous act.

She walked back to the head of the table and sat down. She folded her hands in front of her.

"I'm going to make this quick," she said, looking at each of them. "I know I've been a monster. I know I've done things to you that are unforgivable."

Josue slammed his hands onto the table. "Unforgivable?" he roared.

He grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped it open, buttons popping off and hitting the floor. He exposed his chest and stomach.

The skin was a roadmap of torture. Burn marks. Deep, jagged scars from a thermal whip.

"Does 'unforgivable' cover this?" Josue snarled, his chest heaving. "Does it cover starving us? Does it cover sending my brothers to die?"

She didn't look away. She forced herself to stare at every single scar. Her stomach churned with guilt that wasn't hers, but she owned it now.

"No," she said quietly. "It doesn't."

Josue's mouth clamped shut. He had expected her to scream, to laugh, or to call the guards. Her calm acceptance threw him off.

She tapped her terminal. A holographic document projected into the center of the table.

"I know you want to kill me," she said, her voice steady. "And honestly, I don't blame you. But I want to live. So, here is my offer."

She pointed to the glowing text. "This is a Declaration of Intent to Divorce. In sixty days, when the trial marriage period ends, I will file for a legal separation citing 'Genetic Incompatibility.' You will all be free."

Dead silence filled the room.

Alfie frowned, his eyes scanning the legal jargon. "The law says a female cannot unilaterally break a contract without cause during the trial period. What kind of trap is this?"

"No trap," she said. "I've already signed it with my biometric seal. It's legally binding on my end. For the next sixty days, I will not interfere with you. You can use whatever is left in this house."

Buren slowly raised his hand, like a child in a classroom. "Can we... can we eat the food?"

Her heart cracked a little. She pushed the vials down the table toward him. "Eat as much as you want. I'll buy more."

Josue slammed his hand down over the vials, stopping Buren from taking one. He glared at her.

"Why?" Josue demanded. "What is your angle?"

She met his gaze. "I told you. I want to live. I don't want to wake up in two months with my throat ripped out. This is a ceasefire."

Josue stared at her, searching her face for the lie. He found nothing but brutal honesty.

He looked down at the holographic contract. He didn't sign it. But slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand off the vials.

It was a silent agreement.

She nodded. "Good. Eat. Rest."

She stood up and walked out of the room, leaving them alone with the food and their confusion.

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