His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 284

Chapter 284

Elijah’s POV

The Manor felt different. For weeks, it had been a fortress, a strategy room, a place of tension and whispered plans.

Now, as the heavy oak doors swung shut behind us, it felt like a sanctuary. The scent of woodsmoke, old books, and the deep, earthy musk of the pack rose up to meet us, wrapping around me like a physical weight. 62 bpm.

Silas carried Claire upstairs. She was so still, her head lolling against his shoulder, her fingers curled weakly into the thick wool of the cloak I’d wrapped her in.

She hadn’t opened her eyes since we hit the tree line. The sapphire glow was gone, replaced by a paleness that made her look fragile, like a piece of porcelain that had been shattered and glued back together.

I followed them up the grand staircase, my boots leaving a trail of ash and melted snow on the rugs.

My body was screaming-bruised ribs, shredded skin, and a lingering electrical hum in my bones that made my hands shake-but I didn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anything but the pulse of the bond. It was slow. Rhythmic. Thready.

“Put her in the sunroom,” I said, my voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel.

“Elijah, she needs the infirmary,” Silas started, turning toward the west wing.

“No,” I barked, a flash of Alpha authority cutting through my exhaustion. “The sunroom. She needs the light. She needs to feel the North, not the machines.”

Silas looked at me, seeing the soot-stained face and the lethal, unyielding gold in my eyes, and he simply nodded.

We laid her on the oversized chaise lounge, the one surrounded by large glass panes that looked out over the jagged peaks of the ridge.

The moonlight was spilling in, silver and cold, bathing her in a light that finally didn’t look like a laboratory.

I knelt beside her, my knees hitting the floor with a dull thud. Silas and Ethan stood by the door, watching us.

“Everyone out,” I whispered.

“Elijah, you’re injured,” Ethan said, stepping forward. “Let me get the medic to look at your-

“Out”

They left. The click of the door was the first moment of true silence I’d had in days. I reached out, my hand trembling, and brushed a matted lock of hair away from Claire’s forehead.

Her skin was freezing. I could feel the trauma beneath the surface, the “block” the Regency had placed on her mind still leaving a bitter, metallic taste in the air.

I took her hands in mine. The bruises on her wrists were a dark, ugly purple-perfect circles where the magnetic cuffs had bitten in. I pressed my lips to her knuckles, a sob finally catching in my throat

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the quiet. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”

I didn’t move for hours. I stayed on the floor, holding her hands, watching the way the moon moved across the floor.

I watched for every breath, terrified that if I blinked, she’d vanish back into the smoke of the Spire.

Near dawn, the fever started.

It wasn’t a normal fever. Her skin began to shimmer with a faint, erratic blue light. She started to toss and turn, her breath hitching into small, panicked whimpers.

“No,” she breathed, her eyes darting beneath closed lids. “The peppermint… please. Not the needles.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify