His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 270

Chapter 270

Claire’s POV

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Waking up wasn’t a gradual process. It was a violent jolt, like being dunked into a pool of ice water. My eyes snapped open, but everything was a blur of sterile white and sharp, neon blue.

My head felt like it had been stuffed with wet cotton, and there was a metallic tang in the back of my throat that made me want to gag.

110 bpm. My heart was racing, but it felt sluggish, like the blood in my veins had turned to syrup.

“She’s awake,” a voice said. It was thin, filtered through a speaker, and completely devoid of emotion.

I tried to sit up, but my limbs wouldn’t cooperate. I was lying on a flat, cold surface that hummed with a low- frequency vibration.

As my vision cleared, the world came into focus. I wasn’t in the Manor. I wasn’t even in a room.

I was in a pressurized glass cylinder, a high-tech specimen jar right in the middle of a lab that looked like it belonged in a nightmare.

The walls of the cylinder were thick-triple-paned reinforced glass etched with glowing amber runes. I recognized those runes. They weren’t Regency tech; they were dampeners. They were designed to eat any energy I tried to put out.

“Don’t bother struggling, Claire,” a familiar, sharp voice echoed through the chamber.

I turned my head slowly. High Proctor Vane was standing on the other side of the glass.

She had a bandage across her cheek from the Old Well explosion, but she looked immaculate in her charcoal robes.

Beside her stood two scientists in white hazmat suits, their faces hidden behind reflective visors.

“Where… where am I?” I croaked. My voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel.

“You are in the Sanctum of the Citadel,” Vane replied, stepping closer to the glass. She looked at me not as a person, but as a masterpiece she’d finally finished painting. “You are quite the elusive variable, child. You cost me three interceptor drones and a Reaper scout. That’s a very expensive trail of breadcrumbs.”

I tried to summon the sapphire light. I reached deep, searching for the connection to the North Ridge, for that steady, tectonic thrum that usually lived in my bones.

on’a

Nothing. It was like trying to call someone on a phone with no bars. The silence in my head was deafening.

“The dampening field is tuned specifically to your resonance,” Vane said, noticing my effort. “The more you pull from the Wells, the more the glass absorbs. You’re effectively a battery in a vacuum.”

One of the scientists stepped forward, holding a long, silver probe that ended in a series of delicate, needle-

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Chapter 270

like sensors.

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He tapped a command into a handheld console, and a section of the glass hissed open-just a small circular port, barely wide enough for the device.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I scrambled backward, my back hitting the cold glass of the far wall. 125 bpm.

“We need to calibrate the harvest, Claire,” Vane said calmly. “Your heart rate is too high. It’s creating ‘noise’ in the data. We need a direct neural reading of the Anchor’s core.”

The scientist reached through the port. I tried to swat the probe away, but my movements were slow, hampered by whatever sedative they’d pumped into me.

He didn’t flinch. He grabbed my arm with a grip like a metal vise. His glove felt cold and sterile against my skin.

“Let go of me!” I screamed, kicking at the glass.

The probe touched the skin of my forearm. I expected a sting, but it was worse. It felt like a cold needle diving straight into my nerves, searching for the light.

140 bpm.

“Initial contact established,” the scientist droned. “Resonance is at forty percent efficiency. The subject’s emotional state is causing significant fluctuations.”

“Stabilize her,” Vane commanded.

The scientist pressed a button on the probe. A sharp, electrical pulse shot through my arm, locking my muscles in place.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even blink. I was a passenger in my own body, watching as they poked and prodded at the energy signature beneath my skin.

“Look at the gold in the reading,” the second scientist whispered, pointing to a holographic display that was projecting my heartbeat in jagged, glowing lines. “It’s not just Northern energy. There’s a secondary lock. A wolf’s tether.”

Vane’s eyes narrowed. “The Hale boy. He’s anchored himself to her soul. It’s a sentimental complication.” She looked back at me, her expression turning icy. “We’ll have to strip that away. It’s polluting the purity of the Well’s signal.”

“You can’t,” I whispered, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. “You can’t take him out of me.”

“We can take anything we want, Claire,” Vane said. She reached out and placed a hand on the glass, right in front of my face.

“You think you’re a girl who found a power, You’re not. You are a biological fluke that happened to catch a lightning bolt. And now, the Regency is going to ground you.”

The scientist withdrew the probe, and the glass port hissed shut, sealing me back into the silent, humming

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Chapter 270

vacuum.

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“Start the Phase-Two extraction,” Vane told the technicians. “I want her drained to ten percent by morning. If the boy and his pack show up-and they will-I want them to find nothing but an empty shell.”

They started turning dials. The floor of the cylinder began to glow with a sickly violet light-the same color as the “starving”

Well Marcus had built.

I felt the first tug on my chest. It wasn’t violent, not yet. It was a slow, steady drain, like water leaking out of a cracked jar.

Every beat of my heart felt heavier. 100 bpm… 90 bpm…

I slumped against the glass, my forehead resting against the cold surface. I looked out past Vane, past the scientists, toward the dark hallways of the Citadel.

Somewhere out there, Elijah was coming. I knew it. I could feel the ghost of his hand in mine, the memory of his golden eyes.

Hurry, I thought, my vision starting to dim as the violet light began to drink. Please, Elijah. Hurry.

Back at the North Ridge, the Manor was no longer a home. It was a war room.

Elijah stood in the center of the library, his hands resting on the edge of the table so hard the wood was beginning to splinter.

He hadn’t shifted, but his presence was so massive, so violent, that the air around him seemed to shimmer with heat.

“They took her through the North pass,” Ethan said, pointing to a blinking red dot on a map. “A cloaked VTOL. We lost the signature over the Blackwood marsh, but there’s only one place they’d take an Anchor.”

“The Citadel,” Elijah said. His voice was a low, guttural rasp that didn’t sound human.

“We can’t just walk in there, Elijah,” Silas said, though he was already sharpening the silver tip of his cane. “It’s a fortress. They have thousands of Sentinels, drone swarms, and dampening fields that will turn a wolf into a house cat.”

Elijah looked up. His eyes weren’t just gold anymore; they were a burning, molten orange.

“I don’t care about their fields,” Elijah said. “I don’t care about their army. They touched her. They took her. And I am going to burn that city to the ground to get her back.”

“We’re with you,” Valerius said, stepping out of the shadows. She was holding a heavy tactical case. “I know the layout of the Sanctum. I know where they keep the specimens. If we move now, we can hit them before the extraction hits the point of no return.”

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Chapter 270

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“Then move,” Ethan said, looking at the pack. “No rules. No mercy. We’re going to the South.”

Elijah didn’t wait for the others. He turned and sprinted toward the door, his body blurring into a massive, silver-grey shape mid-stride.

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