His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 32

**TITLE: Betrayal Births by Joseph King**
**Chapter 32**

**Claire’s POV**

In that fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of something profound.

Gold.

Not mere specks or glimmers, but a blazing intensity that threatened to engulf him entirely. The wolf within him pressed against the boundaries of his control, clawing at the seams of his restraint with a fierce urgency.

My heart raced, a wild drumbeat echoing in my ears, while my wolf stirred restlessly, yearning to respond to the call that pulsed between us.

But just as swiftly as it appeared, the gold flickered out of existence. His eyes hardened, transforming into the familiar, frigid ice-blue that I had come to dread.

The abrupt shift hit me harder than I anticipated, like a door slamming shut right in front of my face. My chest tightened painfully, and I instinctively pressed my palm against it, fighting to regain my composure and refusing to let him witness the turmoil within me.

“I’m fine,” I declared, brushing his arm away as if his touch were nothing more than a bothersome fly. My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I needed that edge to mask my vulnerability. I bent down beside him, snatching the apple from the counter, and turned to wash it under the cool water of the sink.

He blinked slowly, as if processing the gravity of what had just transpired, then his gaze fell to the apple still firmly held in my grasp.

“I hope you didn’t take one of mine,” he remarked flatly, as if discussing the weather rather than a matter of personal property.

I shot up, my head snapping back in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“The apples,” he continued, his tone devoid of warmth, as if he were merely stating a fact. “They’re mine.”

I stared at him, incredulity washing over me. “Are you kidding me right now?”

A flicker of something—was it amusement?—passed across his lips, but it quickly morphed into indifference. “It’s my dad’s house. Everything in it is mine.”

The bitterness bubbled up within me, and I scoffed, the sound harsh and acidic on my tongue. “Of course. You own the air, too, I suppose? Should I start paying rent for every breath I take?”

His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in irritation. “You need to start learning some manners.”

His words were low, almost a growl, quiet yet laced with a dangerous undertone. Before I could step around him, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist with an intensity that sent a jolt through me. The strength in his grasp ignited a fire within my chest, filled with authority and command.

I yanked my arm back, fury boiling over in a wave of heat. “I can’t believe you. You act like you didn’t stand there and let me be humiliated at school, and now you’re lecturing me about manners?”

His jaw clenched tighter, and for a brief moment, I swore I saw something break within him—a flicker of warmth, of humanity—but it vanished as quickly as it had come, locked away behind the cold facade he wore.

I shoved him hard, my anger bubbling over my fatigue. “Get over yourself, Elijah.”

Without waiting for a response, I stormed out of the kitchen, the apple still clutched in my hand, and pushed through the back doors into the garden.

The evening air hit me like a refreshing slap, cool and fragrant with the scent of blooming roses. I sank onto the nearest bench, my teeth sinking brutally into the apple, chewing as if it had personally insulted me.

My heart raced, breaths coming too quickly, and my hands trembled around the fruit, a stark contrast to the calmness of the garden around me.

And then, in the midst of my furious bites, I caught myself.

I froze, the apple hovering halfway to my mouth, and let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“What am I even doing?” I muttered to myself, dropping my face into my hands. “Fighting over fruit with Elijah Daniels. Brilliant.”

The laughter turned bitter, for it was never truly about the apple.

No matter how I tried to convince myself otherwise, Elijah had a way of burrowing under my skin. His cruelty, his silence, and even those fleeting moments of something deeper that I couldn’t quite name all tangled together inside me, creating a mess that was impossible to untangle.

But I had to.

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