His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

**Claire’s POV**

The moment I crossed the threshold into the compound, an unsettling sensation washed over me once more—a peculiar, heavy pressure settled at the nape of my neck. It was an instinctual alert, a primal warning from my wolf, signaling that I was not alone.

The air felt charged, almost electric, as if the world around me had shifted slightly out of balance. Beneath my skin, my wolf stirred, a restless energy bubbling up, accompanied by a low, ominous growl that reverberated in the depths of my mind.

Something isn’t right.

With a furtive glance around the courtyard, I took in my surroundings. The lanterns lining the walkway cast elongated, wavering shadows across the polished marble tiles, creating an eerie dance of light and darkness. The guards stationed by the main gate stood like statues, their silhouettes rigid and imposing. The house itself emanated a warm glow through its tall windows, a beacon of comfort amidst the encroaching darkness.

Yet, despite the seemingly serene scene, an instinctual alarm blared within me, urging me to be cautious.

I quickened my steps, the sound of my boots echoing against the stone as I approached the front door. By the time I finally crossed the threshold, I felt as though I had been holding my breath for an eternity.

Once inside, the familiar sensations enveloped me like a warm embrace—the rich scent of cedarwood polish filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of laughter and conversation from the living room. It was the comforting familiarity of home, yet it felt tinged with an undercurrent of unease.

Familiarity, huh?

I shut the door behind me with a soft click and leaned against it for a brief moment, allowing myself to exhale slowly, releasing the tension that had built up in my chest. Just like Mom used to teach me.

Maybe I was simply being paranoid. Perhaps my wolf was merely reacting to the remnants of stress from the tumultuous days I had endured. After all, I had been pursued by a serial killer who could very well strangle me in my sleep.

Shit. I was officially losing my mind.

As I stepped into the living room, my gaze landed on Ethan, who was sprawled comfortably on the couch, a few papers in hand. Mom sat beside him, her laughter ringing out like music in the air, a sound that instantly eased the tightness in my chest. They looked genuinely happy, their joy contagious.

“Claire,” Ethan exclaimed, his smile widening as soon as he spotted me. It was a rare sight, one I cherished. “Perfect timing! I was just about to come find you.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Did I do something?”

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Not yet. But you will.”

Mom playfully swatted his arm, her expression teasing. “Don’t scare her like that.”

Ethan turned back to me, his eyes shimmering with a quiet intensity that always commanded attention. “The annual royal gala is this weekend,” he announced, his tone serious yet excited. “It’s a formal event—pack leaders, neighboring Alphas, council representatives, the whole shebang. You need to be there.”

“The gala?” I echoed, my surprise evident. “You mean, like, the whole pretending-to-be-polite thing?”

Mom sighed, a knowing smile on her lips. “That’s the one, yes.”

The thought of extravagant gowns, orchestras, and the weight of societal expectations filled me with dread.

Ethan chuckled softly, his amusement evident. “Exactly that. And since it’s your first gala, Elijah is going to help you learn the ropes of etiquette. He’ll guide you through the formalities, the introductions, and how to address ranked wolves.”

I stared at him, my mouth agape. “Elijah?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his expression firm. “He knows the protocols better than anyone. You’ll start with him tomorrow after school. I’ve already informed him.”

I wanted to protest, to argue for anyone but him, but Ethan’s tone left no room for discussion.

“Fine,” I muttered, resigning myself to the inevitable. “Tomorrow.”

Mom offered a gentle smile, her eyes filled with encouragement. “You’ll be great.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. With a heavy sigh, I ascended the stairs, yearning for solitude and the chance to recharge.

After dinner, I retreated upstairs, craving the stillness of the night. The day had stretched on endlessly, and my body was still weighed down by fatigue. I indulged in a hot shower, letting the steam envelop me, then slipped into soft, comfortable clothes before crawling into bed, my hair still damp against the pillow.

The house had settled into a peaceful quiet, and I turned off the bedside lamp, rolling over in an attempt to focus on my breathing.

But something compelled me to open my eyes again, and the instant I did, I caught a flicker of shadow just outside my window.

My heart raced. I sat up slowly, my gaze fixed on the thin curtains swaying gently in the night breeze. My wolf’s tension heightened, intertwining with my own unease. I was scanning the room like a frantic lunatic, searching for anything amiss.

Then, I spotted them—two faint, glimmering eyes peering at me from the darkness.

A chill slithered down my spine.

This was no figment of my imagination.

I scrambled out of bed, my heart pounding in a chaotic rhythm. My mind raced, piecing together the possibilities. The servants had retreated inside, and the guards remained vigilant at their posts. So who—?

I blinked hard, and when I looked again, the eyes had vanished.

Just the empty night and the rustling of leaves.

“Get it together, Claire,” I murmured, pressing a hand against my racing heart. “You’re just imagining things.”

Still, I locked the window securely before climbing back into bed, whispering silent prayers for protection. Sleep eluded me for what felt like ages, but when it finally came, it was anything but gentle.

“Well, apparently you do now.”

He took a step closer, the faint scent of cedarwood wafting off him, mingling with the warmth of the room. In the muted light, his features appeared softer, though perhaps that was just my mind playing tricks. The sharp lines of his jaw and the tousled dark hair falling into his eyes made him seem different—more approachable.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice dropping to a quiet concern.

I blinked, taken aback by the genuine tone. It was neither mocking nor distant, but rather…warm.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, though my pulse continued to race. “Just—probably too much stress.”

“Probably,” he agreed, though the way he scrutinized me suggested he didn’t entirely buy that explanation.

A brief silence enveloped us, and I caught him glancing at the slight tremor in my hands. Before I could hide them, he said softly, “You should go back to bed before your mom sees you like this.”

“Right,” I replied quickly, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

As I turned toward the stairs, I heard his low chuckle behind me.

“What?” I asked, glancing back at him.

He shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Nothing. Just didn’t expect the great Claire to scream that loud in her sleep.”

My cheeks flushed crimson. “I—what—excuse me?”

He grinned, unapologetic. “Nightmares, huh?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but despite my irritation, the corners of my lips twitched upward. “You’re such an ass.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “I’ve been called worse.”

As I reached the first step, I caught his quiet words, almost a whisper, “At least you’re awake now.”

The sincerity behind those words caught me off guard, leaving me unsure of how to respond.

So, I simply continued walking until I reached my room once more.

I shut the door behind me, leaning back against it, and let out a slow, steadying breath.

What a night this had turned out to be.