His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**Claire’s POV**

As if choreographed by some unseen force, the men pivoted in unison, their bodies coiling with tension at the sight of the figure standing at the entrance of the alley.

Even in the dim light, his presence was overwhelming, a tangible force that seemed to suffocate the air around us. He didn’t move like a boy nursing a hockey injury; no, he moved with the predatory grace of a hunter—an Alpha—something born to pursue, conquer, and annihilate.

He was like a creature that had been starved for far too long. When he spoke, his voice was low and measured, yet it carried a weight that reverberated through the alley, demanding attention.

A shiver ran down my spine, a primal instinct warning me of the danger that lurked in the shadows.

“I said,” he reiterated, his voice dripping with menace, “touch her and die.”

The first man laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed off the brick walls. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

That was his blunder.

How could he not recognize Elijah? The very aura of dominance that surrounded him should have been enough to send shivers of fear down anyone’s spine.

But Elijah remained silent, merely tilting his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, he lunged.

What transpired next was a whirlwind of brutality—raw and unrestrained chaos.

I had witnessed him on the ice, but this was an entirely different realm of violence.

This was primal fury unleashed without a hint of hesitation. He slammed one man against the brick wall with such force that I could almost hear the air crack in protest.

The second thug swung his knife, but Elijah was quicker; he caught the man’s wrist mid-swing, twisting it with a sickening snap that echoed ominously through the alley.

The man’s scream sliced through the air, sharp and piercing.

Inside me, my wolf recoiled, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through my veins, and then, as if responding to a call, she surged forth.

It wasn’t fear that propelled her.

It was a hunger, an insatiable desire that answered Elijah’s wolf like a flame ignited by oxygen.

“Elijah…” My whisper was barely audible, lost amidst the cacophony of fists colliding with flesh. I clutched my chest, doubling over as I fought to keep my knees from buckling beneath me.

The last man attempted to flee, but Elijah was faster, a blur of motion as he yanked the coward back by the collar, a low growl rumbling in his throat that rattled the very air around us. His eyes blazed—not merely blue, but alight with a golden glow that emanated from the beast within.

In that moment, it struck me: I was no longer looking at Elijah Daniels, my cruel stepbrother, the tormentor who had made my life a living hell, the arrogant hockey star.

I was gazing directly at his wolf.

And my own wolf—weak, sickly, and fragile—responded as if she had been waiting her entire existence for this moment.

Heat surged through me, intense and unwelcome.

My chest throbbed, not from illness this time, but from something that made my skin prickle and my heart race in an unsteady rhythm alongside his.

I couldn’t comprehend it. Goddess, I didn’t want to comprehend it.

“Elijah!” I called out again, my voice louder this time, desperate to reach him.

His head snapped in my direction.

I felt my breath catch in my throat, instinctively taking a step back, even as my wolf howled weakly within me.

Because the look in his eyes was anything but human.

The three men lay crumpled at his feet, groaning, broken yet alive.

Elijah’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his fists slick with the crimson evidence of his fury.

He advanced toward me, his movements predatory, as if the fight had only stoked the fire within him, as if his wolf craved more.

I instinctively retreated, my back hitting the alley wall. “Stay back—”

“Are you insane?” His voice was a low snarl, teeth clenched tightly. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Do you have a death wish?”

My own anger flared, familiar and sharp, cutting through the haze of my fear. “You think I planned this?”

In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between us, his hand seizing my arm with a grip that was both firm and unsettlingly warm. The heat radiating from him seeped through my skin. His breath came in quick, ragged bursts, laced with the primal essence of his wolf.

“I’m taking you home,” he growled, a command that sent a jolt through me.

I pushed against him, desperation clawing at my insides, my pulse spiraling into a frantic rhythm. “Don’t touch me! Don’t act like you care when you couldn’t help me yesterday!”

His eyes widened in shock, and for a fleeting moment, I thought he might unleash his wrath upon me.

His grip tightened, the wolf within him pressing against the edges of his control, making his body tremble. His eyes flickered—blue to gold, blue to gold—like a fire battling against ice.

Tears threatened to spill as I locked gazes with him.

Then,

“Claire!”

Naomi’s voice sliced through the tension of the alley like a bell tolling in the night. She appeared at the corner, her eyes wide with shock, clutching the sodas as if they were a lifeline in a nightmare.

Elijah froze, his chest still heaving with the aftermath of the fight. A flicker of something—perhaps uncertainty?—crossed his features, but slowly, he released his grip on my arm.

Naomi rushed to my side, panic lacing her voice, although I noticed the brief glance she shot toward the spot where Elijah had held me. “Are you okay? Oh my God, Claire—what happened?”

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