His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

Elijah.

The very thought of her dying sends a chilling wave through me, igniting my wolf’s anguished howl before I can even reach her. My heart races, and I grapple with the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume me. Why does it hurt so deeply? Why does the notion of losing her feel like a dagger piercing through my chest?

Once before, I had witnessed her nearly slip away from me, or at least that’s how my memory plays it. I had stood frozen, paralyzed by a mix of confusion and fear, the indifference of the moment wrapping around me like a heavy shroud. But now, clarity cuts through the fog—I know what I feel.

The idea of her death is the most excruciating torment I have ever faced.

I find myself rooted to the spot, unable to move. All I can see is her fragile form crumpled on the cold floor, a faint wisp of smoke curling up from her locker, her beautiful hair cascading over her face like a curtain hiding her from the world.

A low growl escapes my wolf, a sound of panic I have never encountered before. It reverberates through me, snapping my mind into focus.

Suddenly, I’m sprinting towards her.

“Claire!”

Her name bursts from my lips, echoing loudly in the desolate corridor, a desperate plea. I drop to my knees beside her, my hands trembling as I grasp her wrist. Her skin is ice-cold… oh gods, she feels too cold.

“Hey,” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath, shaking her gently. “Claire, wake up.”

Silence.

The static hums ominously against the metal of the locker, and it doesn’t take a genius to piece together the horror of the situation. I spot the faint singe mark on her sleeve, the acrid smell of burnt wire filling the air. Someone did this to her. Someone rigged her locker.

Who in the hell would—

A sudden flash of memory cuts through me: Jessica’s voice at practice earlier, laughter that was far too quiet, conspiratorial. She had always been a thorn in my side, but this? This was crossing a line.

I curse under my breath, gathering Claire into my arms, cradling her against me. Her head lolls against my shoulder, and I feel her heartbeat—faint, but it’s there.

Relief floods through me, so intense that my knees nearly buckle beneath the weight of it. For a moment, I feared her tiny heart had given up entirely.

My wolf surges within me, a protective force, snarling with an intensity that I have never felt before. It’s the same instinct that has plagued me since the day she walked into my life, turning everything upside down.

I grit my teeth, trying to suppress the voice inside me. “Not now,” I mutter, but it does little to soothe the tempest brewing in my chest.

As I carry her down the hallway, all I can think about is how wrong this feels.

The drive back home was supposed to be just another mundane routine. I had waited for her and Naomi outside the gate, glancing at my watch every few minutes, irritation bubbling as she was late yet again.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

By the twentieth minute, I had begun to pace, anxiety gnawing at me. Naomi kept insisting she had gone to grab something from her locker.

“Then go get her,” I snapped, my tone sharper than intended.

Now, I wish I could take those words back.

Because the next time I laid eyes on Claire, she was sprawled on the floor, and all the hurtful words I had uttered over the past few weeks crashed down on me like a tidal wave.

You don’t belong here.

Gold digger.

Psycho.

Those words echoed relentlessly in my mind as I rushed through the corridor, clutching her tighter against me.

Why do I even care?

Because you do, you little punk, my wolf growls back, sharp and unyielding. She’s yours.

“No.” I hiss under my breath, denying the truth that gnaws at my insides. “She’s not.”

But the tremor in my hands betrays me, and that is answer enough.

By the time I reach the parking lot, Naomi is already sprinting towards me, her face drained of color.

“Oh my God, what happened—”

“I didn’t—”

You did.

The words reverberate inside me, laced with undeniable truth. Deep down, I know that if I hadn’t been so cruel, if I hadn’t pushed her away, she wouldn’t have been alone.

I sink into one of the waiting chairs, elbows resting on my knees. My head pounds with a relentless ache. My hands won’t stop shaking.

Her scent lingers in the air—paint, apples, and something soft that feels too much like home.

How does she do this to me?

Girls have thrown themselves at me my entire life. Daughters of the pack. Even human admirers whenever I travel abroad. Each one predictable, easy to dismiss.

But Claire… she is chaos. A whirlwind of fire and fragility wrapped into one, and she remains blissfully unaware of the storm she creates within me.

And perhaps that’s what terrifies me most.

Because if she ever truly understood… if she ever looked into my eyes and realized the tempest she has ignited, I’m not sure I could contain it.

Finally, a nurse steps out, peeling off her gloves. “She’s stable for now,” she informs me quickly, her tone brisk. “You mentioned she has a pre-existing heart condition?”

I nod, my throat constricted, rendering me speechless.

“She’ll need to rest,” the nurse continues. “But she’s out of danger.”

The tension that has gripped my chest shatters, and I drag a hand down my face, exhaling shakily.

Naomi begins to cry again, relief and guilt intertwining in her voice. “Thank the goddess,” she murmurs.

But all I can do is stare at the door through which Claire vanished.

She’s alive.