His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 162

**TITLE: Betrayal Births**

**Chapter 162**

**Claire’s POV**

The journey back from the art store turned out to be far chillier than I had anticipated.

As the evening breeze rustled through the towering pines that flanked the road, it carried with it a medley of scents—fresh soil, lingering woodsmoke, and the distant calls of wolves settling into their twilight routines. I usually relished this stretch of path; it was serene and predictable, a route where the mundane ruled and nothing ever seemed to happen.

But today, Elijah walked alongside me.

With him, predictability was thrown out the window, and everything felt unnervingly intimate.

He casually held the bag of art supplies in one hand, as if it were weightless. I clutched my own bag over my shoulder, consciously trying to maintain a steady rhythm in my breathing. At first, we walked in silence, our steps falling into a comfortable cadence reminiscent of siblings or packmates.

Yet, the dynamic between us had long since ceased to feel purely sibling-like.

“So,” he began, nudging me playfully with his elbow, “I noticed you picked that deep red shade again. You always gravitate toward warm colors. What’s the reason behind that?”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “Why not?”

“The way you answer a question with another question can get a bit annoying, you know. That’s not really an answer, Claire.”

“Maybe I just didn’t feel like providing one.”

He made a thoughtful sound that instantly raised my suspicions. “Warm colors usually signify someone with a lot of bottled-up emotion or an excess of energy. You don’t seem to fit either category.”

I shot him a sharp glare. “And what exactly does that mean? Are you diagnosing my color choices now?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Or perhaps I’m suggesting that you feel more than you’re willing to admit.”

I bristled at his words. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

He glanced at me, that calm, confident expression on his face making my stomach twist in a way I didn’t want to analyze. “I do,” he replied softly. “Especially when it comes to you.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but a sudden gust of wind whipped through, sending my hair flying across my face. I pushed it aside in annoyance, but before I could fully regain my composure, Elijah instinctively reached out, brushing the loose strands away from my eyes.

I stiffened at the unexpected contact. He withdrew his hand immediately, but the brief touch sent a jolt through me, like a light switch flicking on in my chest.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice low. “Reflex.”

“It’s fine,” I said too quickly, trying to mask my discomfort. “Just—don’t.”

“Right,” he replied, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’ll… try.”

As we continued walking, I decided to change the subject, partly to distract myself from the tension and partly because the silence felt too heavy.

“Did you manage to finish the pack training schedule Ethan left on the table?”

Elijah groaned dramatically. “You mean that two-page handwritten essay that looks like it was scrawled in pure rage?”

“Yes,” I chuckled. “That one.”

“I glanced at it for a whole five seconds before I decided to fake my own death.”

I nearly stumbled at his words. “What?”

His grin widened. “Or at least pretend to embark on a pilgrimage to the northern packs and vanish for three months.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

“And you’re talking again,” he pointed out, a teasing glint in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Talking felt better than the oppressive silence.

As we approached the small wooden footbridge that spanned the stream, one of the quieter routes home, the sun had completely dipped below the horizon, leaving only cool blue shadows in its wake. The gentle sound of the stream was soothing, almost like a soft hum.

Elijah stepped ahead to walk along the narrow center beam, balancing as if it were a game. I opted for the safety of the proper walkway, acting like a sensible person.

“I used to try this when we were younger,” he said, peering down at the water flowing beneath us.

“And you used to push me into the water back then,” I shot back, a teasing smile forming on my lips.

He grinned without looking back. “That’s because you fell for my tricks every single time.”

“So you pushed me,” I reiterated, though I couldn’t quite recall any specific incidents. It just felt right to say.

“Because you leaned!”

“I was eight!” I protested, laughter bubbling up inside me.

He laughed so hard he nearly lost his balance for a moment. His arms flailed, and for a split second, an image of him tumbling into the water flashed through my mind, causing my heart to race.

My wolf reacted instinctively.

Before I could think, I reached out and grabbed the back of his hoodie with a firm grip.

“Stop fooling around before you break your skull,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

He turned to me, his eyes wide, not from the near fall, but from my sudden movement.

“You grabbed me like I was about to plummet off a cliff,” he said quietly, a hint of surprise in his tone.

“You almost did,” I muttered, my heart still racing.

He stepped down from the beam, returning to my side. Now, standing this close, I could feel the warmth radiating from him, a stark contrast to the cool night air. Wolves naturally ran warmer, but Elijah… he felt like a flame.

He cleared his throat, breaking the momentary silence. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I shot back, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Because you’re breathing fast,” he observed, concern etched in his features.

I forced myself to slow my breaths. “It’s cold. That’s all.”

He didn’t call me out on my lie. Instead, he shifted the conversation once more.

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