Surviving My Deadly Contract Beast Husbands
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.
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