His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 125

**TITLE: Betrayal Births**

**Chapter 125**

**Claire’s POV**

For days, I had been immersed in a labyrinth of clues, tracing a path that seemed to lead me deeper into the heart of a shadowy world. My eyes scanned ledgers filled with cryptic notations, scrutinized sketches that held secrets, and focused on minute details that would easily escape the notice of the average person. Each piece of evidence pointed me toward a singular destination: a merchant syndicate operating in the shadows, quietly moving goods across territories without so much as a whisper of inquiry. It was a clandestine network, meticulously crafted for the purpose of secrecy. Every time I contemplated it, I could feel my wolf stirring within me, a tension building that mirrored my own unease.

The first merchant we interrogated was a bundle of nerves, fidgeting with his hands as they brushed over the familiar imprints of coins he had dealt with for years. His speech was slow and deliberate, as if he feared that the very words escaping his lips could seal his fate. “There’s a man,” he stammered, his voice quivering, “he arrives late at night. Always silent. Always cloaked in a hood. Never meets anyone’s gaze. He pays with these coins.” He lifted a coin, revealing a small, distinctive mark pressed into its surface. “This mark… it belongs to Marek’s caravan. I swear, I’ve only ever seen him after dark, and he vanishes like a specter.”

I nodded, absorbing his every word. “Did anyone see him depart? Did anyone recognize his voice or the way he walked? Anything at all?” I asked gently, trying to coax more information from him. The man swallowed hard, his throat constricted by fear. “No… no, only his shadow and the coins. But I suspect he had accomplices. They were always cautious. Always.”

Elijah stood behind me, his arms crossed tightly, his jaw clenched in silent frustration. I could sense the tautness radiating from his shoulders, the way his fists were balled up. My wolf mirrored his tension, sensing the looming threat that hung in the air, a foreboding whisper that warned me things were about to escalate before they could improve.

We meticulously charted the caravan routes, examining the tracker we possessed that revealed bizarre patterns: late-night transactions, peculiar drop-offs, and a courier who limped and never uttered a word. All signs pointed to a fortified compound, far removed from the main roads. The moment we approached, the acrid scent hit us—smoke mingling with iron, the unmistakable odor of labor and buried secrets.

Cautiously, we advanced. Inside the workshop, an unsettling silence enveloped us, almost too oppressive to bear. Papers littered the tables, coins marked by foreign insignias scattered about. Men moved like shadows, their eyes vacant, their voices barely audible. One name echoed through the air, repeated like a mantra: “The Counsel.” My stomach churned at the sound.

Every hair on my body bristled. That name ignited a low growl from my wolf, a primal warning. Elijah remained still, his gaze sharp and unyielding, like a predator poised to strike.

We were still unaware whether The Counsel had orchestrated the attack or had forged the sketches, but we had gathered enough evidence to act. Ethan, with his calm yet commanding presence, dispatched several guards to sweep through the compound while Elijah and I remained concealed, our eyes trained on the unfolding scene. My heart raced with every sound, every flicker of movement. Shadows morphed into potential threats, and I braced myself for the worst.

The raid was swift and efficient. The guards moved like phantoms, sweeping through rooms and corridors with practiced ease. I held my breath as one of the men stumbled, crashing to the ground. His voice broke as he pleaded for mercy. “Please… please don’t hurt me. I was just following orders. I didn’t know the entire plan. I was paid…” He trembled violently, as if he might shatter under the weight of his own terror.

Elijah’s eyes narrowed, yet he refrained from advancing. I could feel him restraining the wild, untamed part of himself, the part that moon sickness heightened. I stayed close, feeling the warmth radiating from his body, the magnetic pull of his wolf. The man’s fear began to loosen his tongue. “The Counsel… it’s not just one person. There’s someone within the pack… someone who gave me the orders. Money, promises… they threatened my family if I spoke.”

I scribbled down every word with trembling hands, desperate to capture each name, each detail—a thread in a vast web that ensnared our pack. “Who is this person?” I whispered, striving to maintain a calm facade.

He shook his head, panic etched across his features. “I don’t know… I never saw the face. Just the shadow. Just the voice.”

Elijah exhaled slowly, a heavy weight in his tone. “It’s not a single individual,” he stated, his voice low and steady. “It’s a title. A role. The Counsel is a position, not merely a person. Someone occupies it, someone manipulates, someone wields fear and secrecy.”

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