His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 166

166 /227

**TITLE: Betrayal Births by Joseph King 166**

**Chapter 166**

**Claire’s POV**

The following day passed without any noteworthy events, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, the house began to embrace its familiar nighttime rhythm. One by one, the lights surrendered to the encroaching darkness, footsteps echoed softly through the halls, and voices gradually faded into gentle murmurs that seemed to meld seamlessly with the very walls. It was a tranquil kind of quiet, the sort that often wrapped around me like a warm blanket, whispering promises of safety and security.

Yet tonight, an unsettling feeling gnawed at my insides, a sense that this calm was somehow contrived. My mind felt clouded, as if I were wading through fog, unable to grasp the clarity I so desperately sought.

Perched on the edge of my bed, I gathered my hair into a loose braid, fingers deftly weaving the strands together as I listened. I wasn’t straining to hear; rather, I was allowing the sounds of the house to wash over me, letting them come to me as they would. Wolves possess a different kind of awareness, one that transcends mere listening.

A soft click echoed from down the hall as Elijah’s door shut, and my wolf instinctively flicked an ear, alert and aware.

“You’re imagining things,” I muttered under my breath, though deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. Slipping my feet into a pair of socks, I padded softly toward the window, peering out into the yard below. Moonlight draped itself over the trees, casting silvery shadows that danced along the fence line and the gravel path leading toward the ridge beyond.

Normal.

Too normal.

A gentle knock at my door broke the stillness, a sound that felt oddly secretive despite its clarity.

I didn’t flinch. Instead, I opened the door to find Elijah standing there, clad in a dark T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his expression as neutral as ever. It was that familiar look, the one that suggested he was always thinking several steps ahead of everyone else in the room. His wolf brushed against mine, a soft touch that conveyed awareness rather than dominance or challenge.

“You hear it too?” he asked, his voice steady.

I let out a resigned sigh. “I was hoping it was just my imagination.”

“Claire,” he replied dryly, a hint of amusement in his tone, “you’re never simply bored. You’re suspicious.”

I stepped aside, allowing him entry into my room. “That’s quite the flattering interpretation of my state of mind.”

He scanned my room, his gaze lingering on the familiar surroundings as if he were seeing them for the first time, despite having been in here countless times over the months. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was cataloging the details differently this time, perhaps reflecting on how much had changed.

“Are your parents asleep?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Not entirely,” I replied. “Mom’s lost in a book, and Ethan’s pretending he’s not keeping an eye on the perimeter.”

Elijah snorted softly. “He’s terrible at pretending.”

“He thinks we’re oblivious,” I said, settling back onto the bed.

“I think he knows we’re aware,” Elijah countered. “He just doesn’t like that we are. Being an alpha means no one should see the weight of responsibility you carry.”

A quiet huff escaped me at that. “So what brings you here? You never knock unless something’s off.”

He leaned against my desk chair, arms folding loosely across his chest. “You didn’t come down after dinner.”

“I was tired,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He gave me a pointed look. “You hate going to bed early.”

“Fine,” I conceded, “I didn’t like how quiet it got.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thought so.”

We fell into a comfortable silence, my wolf pacing lazily within me, waiting for something to unfold.

“Elijah,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “if you came down here just to confirm my paranoia, I will kick you out.”

“I wouldn’t waste my time on that,” he replied. “I came because something’s brushing against the boundary.”

My stomach twisted into knots. “The ridge?”

“Lower,” he clarified. “Closer.”

I straightened up, a sense of urgency creeping in. “Have you told Ethan?”

“No,” he answered. “Not yet.”

That made me stop short. “Why not?”

“Because I wanted to check something first,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine, unwavering. “And if it turns out to be nothing, he’ll turn it into a lecture.”

I exhaled slowly, a mix of relief and frustration washing over me. “Fair enough.”

We moved toward the door together, our steps falling into an easy rhythm. There was no need for physical contact or dramatics; our familiarity had been built over years of shared space and instincts.

As we stepped into the hallway, the house creaked softly beneath our feet. Elijah slowed near the stairs, tilting his head slightly as if listening for something just beyond the reach of my senses.

“Do you smell that?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

I frowned, inhaling deeply. “Pine. Cold air. Old metal.” I hesitated, a chill running down my spine. “And… ozone?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his expression darkening. “That’s the one I really don’t like.”

We descended the stairs with quiet precision, pausing at the base where the back door loomed ahead, its dark glass reflecting the dim light from the kitchen.