His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 112

**TITLE: Betrayal Births by Joseph King**

**Chapter 112**

**Claire’s POV**

As we step beyond the familiar borders of the pack grounds, the morning air envelops us like a heavy shroud, thick with an unspoken tension. It’s as if the very wind is aware that we are heading toward a confrontation long overdue, something sinister that has been lurking just beyond the edges of our reality.

Ahead of us, the guards ride with purpose, their horses’ hooves drumming a steady rhythm against the forest path. The metallic sheen of their armor glints in the sunlight, creating fleeting reflections that dance in the dappled light. Close behind, Ethan strides forward, his presence commanding, with Elijah by his side. I find myself caught between them, struggling to keep pace as my mind races with chaotic thoughts that refuse to settle.

A contingent of guards trails behind, forming a protective barrier that feels both comforting and stifling at the same time.

Elijah had been adamant about me staying behind.

His irritation had been palpable, barely concealed beneath the surface when he insisted I needed rest. “You’ve given enough, Claire,” he had said, his voice laced with concern. “You can’t push yourself after donating three litres of blood.”

This morning, he had even positioned himself in front of the doorway, his stance firm and unyielding, as if ready to physically haul me back to bed if necessary. That was until Ethan intervened, his eyes meeting mine and understanding flickering across his features. He sighed, knowing all too well that denying me would only lead to a battle of wills that neither of them could win.

I refused to remain behind, pretending that everything was fine while they ventured into potential peril.

So here I am, stepping into the unknown.

My wolf thrums with anxious energy within me, pacing restlessly, her ears perked and alert, instinctively bracing for whatever might come our way. Since the attack, her unease has barely subsided.

Elijah strides ahead of me, appearing outwardly unscathed, yet I can see the subtle signs of his lingering pain—the faint paleness around his eyes, the slight stiffness in his movements when he pushes himself too quickly. He masks it well, but I notice every flinch, every small gesture that betrays the discomfort he’s trying so hard to hide. Each time he presses a hand against his abdomen, a knot of worry twists in my stomach.

He has endured too much.

Is it because of me? Or is it merely a consequence of the chaos that surrounds us? I can’t quite discern where the blame lies.

As we venture deeper into the woods, the path narrows, and the branches overhead cast flickering shadows that play tricks on my senses. The earthy aroma of moss and damp soil rises with each step, grounding me as I try to focus. I steal a glance at Elijah, catching him looking back at me for a brief moment, his eyes softening before he turns away, as if forcing himself not to dwell on my well-being.

I concentrate on my breath, on the steady rhythm of my footsteps, and I silently beseech the Moon Goddess for strength, for clarity, and most importantly, for the memories that linger just out of reach, like a fog that refuses to dissipate.

Please.

Let me remember him.

Let me remember us.

Let me be of use.

The guards ahead begin to slow, a clear signal that we are drawing close to whatever awaits us. A subtle shift in the air prickles my skin—a metallic, earthy scent that feels utterly out of place in these woods. I notice Elijah tense beside Ethan, his body rigid with recognition.

“I know that smell,” he murmurs, his voice low and sharp. “It’s the same one from the hall.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify