His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 138

**Chapter 138**

**Claire’s POV**

With a forceful slam, Elijah closed the front door, the sound reverberating through the hallway as if he wanted the entire house to acknowledge his irritation.

I trailed a couple of steps behind, my mind still caught in a loop, replaying the earlier scene outside the science block. It was as if he had yanked me away from Daniel, treating the poor boy like a threat rather than just a classmate asking if I’d be his partner for the project.

As soon as we entered the living room, Elijah pivoted sharply to face me, his expression a mix of frustration and concern.

“What was that?” he demanded, his voice low but laced with an edge that hinted at his simmering anger.

I tossed my bag onto the couch with a huff. “What was what? From where I was standing, it looked like you were the one storming in here like a territorial wolf.”

His eyes widened slightly, as if my words had struck a nerve. “He was too close to you, Claire. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you.”

“Oh my God,” I muttered, dragging my palm across my forehead in exasperation. “He was looking at me because he was talking to me! That’s how conversations typically work, you know.”

Elijah stepped closer, the air between us thickening with tension. His eyes weren’t filled with anger; rather, they were a mix of worry and stubbornness. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“I don’t need a character reference for every boy who dares to talk to me,” I shot back, my voice rising slightly.

“You should,” he retorted, his tone sharp. “You don’t remember anything from before, so you have no idea who spread rumors about you. You don’t know who used you for their amusement. You don’t know who—”

“Then let me discover that on my own!” I exclaimed, my voice climbing higher before I could rein it in. “You can’t just hover over me every second of the day like I’m five years old.”

He exhaled a humorless breath, pointing at his own chest. “This is about you nearly getting killed. Twice. And every time I blink, something else happens, and you expect me to just sit back and relax?”

Crossing my arms tightly, I felt a tremor of frustration. “I expect you to let me breathe.”

“Breathing is what got you hit by a car and electrocuted,” he snapped, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut.

I felt my stomach twist painfully. “That’s not fair,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes, clearly regretting his harshness. “Claire—”

“No,” I interrupted softly, stepping back to create some distance. “You don’t get to throw that at me just because you’re scared. I’m scared too, but I’m trying to live again. Every time you pull me back, or glare at anyone who dares to speak to me, you make me feel like I’m trapped in that night all over again.”

His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching.

“I’m protecting you,” he insisted, though the conviction in his voice was beginning to falter.

“And I’m asking you to stop confusing protection with possession,” I countered, my words sharp and pointed.

That struck him hard, visibly shaking him.

He took a step back, as if he needed space to think. His gaze dropped, not out of shame, but rather as if he was grappling with a realization he hadn’t fully acknowledged before.

“But I don’t own you,” he said quietly, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

“No,” I replied firmly, “but you certainly act like you might want to.”

His head snapped up, surprise etched on his features.

There it was—the truth we had both avoided saying out loud. The tension that had woven itself between us since the moment he had carried me out of the woods, the unspoken glances, the way he watched me with so many unvoiced emotions simmering behind his eyes. I wasn’t imagining it.

But voicing it made the room feel stifling.

His voice softened, almost vulnerable. “Claire… you know why I worry.”

“I do,” I admitted, my tone gentler. “You’re still healing. You still have nightmares. The moon sickness is better, but it’s not gone. I understand all of that. But you don’t get to turn those fears into rules for me.”

He swallowed hard, a flicker of pain, frustration, and affection dancing across his features, all tangled together. “So you just want me to do nothing? To pretend I don’t sense the danger before it strikes?”

I shook my head, feeling the weight of our conversation. “No. I want you to trust me. Trust that I won’t crumble if people talk to me. That I can handle a conversation with Daniel or any other boy without being whisked away like a child.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify