His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 114

**TITLE: Betrayal Births by Joseph King**
**Chapter 114**

**Claire’s POV**

By the time we returned to the pack house, the sky had consumed every last remnant of dawn, leaving a pale, washed-out light that clung to the surroundings like a damp breath, enveloping everything in an eerie stillness. I felt as though the world had muted itself, and as we stepped inside, the chill of the air finally seeped into my bones. Perhaps it was because Elijah hadn’t cast a single glance in my direction during our journey back. Or maybe it was the sight of Theo’s wolf, bleeding and vulnerable, that had everyone moving with a frantic urgency, as if the very air around us was thick with unspoken fears. My own chest felt as if someone had reached in and twisted something vital out of place, leaving a hollow ache behind.

As soon as the door swung open, Ethan and the other medics surged forward, their movements swift and purposeful. They carefully maneuvered Theo’s massive, unconscious form onto a reinforced gurney, not even pausing to wait for me to shift back into my human form before they whisked him away toward the emergency unit. Elijah, too, didn’t stop. He strode through the entrance hall with a determined pace, climbing the stairs two at a time, never looking back. I stood there, frozen, feeling like an idiot with mud caking on my skin and my heart pounding violently against my ribs.

I watched him disappear around the corner of the hallway, and it wasn’t until the echo of his footsteps faded into silence that the realization struck me: my wolf could no longer feel his.

The absence was a blow to my gut—not sharp, but hollow, a sensation that stole my breath more effectively than any physical pain ever could. I remained there, clinging to the faint thread of our bond as if it were the last fragment of a fading dream, but it was futile. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I didn’t follow him after that.

I told myself it was because I needed to check on Theo, or perhaps I didn’t want others to see me unraveling. But the truth was far simpler and uglier: I was terrified of what I might find if I entered that room. Terrified that he wouldn’t want to see me. Terrified that I already understood why.

The week that followed crawled forward at an agonizingly slow pace. The pack house, usually filled with the warm, comforting sounds of life, felt eerily silent. Even the meals shared in the dining hall were subdued, conversations dropping to whispers whenever someone new entered the room. Footsteps quieted instinctively, as if we were all afraid to disturb the heavy air that hung above us, laden with unspoken words and emotions.

Theo remained in the infirmary, heavily sedated and under constant watch. Ethan explained to me that they wanted him completely stable before attempting to shift him back. “He’s healing slower than an alpha would,” he said, rubbing tired circles beneath his eyes, the weight of worry etched deep into his features. “Not dangerously slow, just… not fast enough for us to take any risks.”

I nodded at all the appropriate moments, asked the right questions, but deep down, I was only listening for one thing—any mention of Elijah. I longed to know where he was, what he was doing, why the pack house felt increasingly empty with each passing hour in his absence.

But I didn’t ask.

Every time I opened my mouth, the words tangled together and withered before they could reach my tongue. Each night, my wolf curled inside me, restless and aching, whispering that something was wrong—very wrong—and that I was being a coward.

She was right.

I knew it, yet I spent my days busily dodging the truth. I cleaned my room twice, even though it was already spotless. I scrubbed the windowsills until they gleamed like polished metal. I attended training sessions only to position myself at the far side of the field, pretending the biting cold air stinging my lungs was sharpening my focus rather than blurring it.

I chatted with Faye, feigning normalcy while secretly listening for the sound of footsteps descending the hall above us. I pretended I wasn’t counting the hours that had slipped by since I last sensed Elijah’s presence.

All these actions were flimsy distractions, easily crumbling under the weight of my anxiety.

I lasted a week.

Seven days of silence, and then I finally snapped.

The hallway leading to his room felt colder than any other part of the house. Perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me—it often did when my emotions surged ahead of my logic—but the air genuinely felt different there. Still, I forced myself to move forward. My footsteps echoed too loudly, no matter how lightly I tried to tread, and as I approached, my heartbeat quickened, as if it were trying to flee from me, desperate to escape the tension building within.

I halted in front of his door.

For a moment, I simply stared at the wood grain, tracing the shifting patterns with my eyes, hoping they might reveal some hidden truth if I looked closely enough. Something simple. Something easy. Something that would explain why he had shut everyone out.

My wolf pressed insistently against my mind, urging me to go on.

So I knocked.

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