His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

**Claire’s POV**

Initially, I thought I had misheard her. Nothing?

Nothing?

The sounds escaping her were so unclear, a soft, muffled noise that hinted at her tears. It was the kind of sound that people make when they’re on the brink of breaking down, desperately trying to hold themselves together.

“Mom?”

Silence.

The house felt unnaturally still. Where was everyone? The clock on the wall ticked softly, a reminder of time passing, while the comforting aroma of cinnamon tea lingered in the air, yet everything felt profoundly wrong.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” I pressed again, stepping closer, my heart pounding in my chest.

That’s when I noticed her hands, trembling around a dish towel. Her shoulders shook slightly, as if she were trying to contain a storm within her.

A tightness gripped my chest. “Mom?”

Her head snapped up, and for a fleeting moment, the relief that washed over her features was almost overshadowed by something darker—guilt? “Claire,” she breathed out, her voice raw and shaky. “I’m okay. You must be tired from school.”

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

I didn’t know why I instinctively looked down, but when I did, my eyes widened at the sight of a dark, wet stain spreading through the towel she clutched. I followed the trail down to the floor, where a faint smear of red marred the otherwise pristine tiles.

Blood.

Panic surged violently within me. “Oh my God—Mom, you’re bleeding!”

She glanced down, as if the realization was dawning on her for the first time, and that terrified me even more. “It’s—it’s fine, honey,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s just a little—”

“No, it’s not fine.” I was already kneeling beside her, grabbing another towel from the counter and pressing it gently against her… I didn’t even know where the blood was coming from. “We need to go to the hospital—”

She caught my wrist, her grip weak yet firm enough to halt my frantic movements. When I looked up, the expression on her face was not one of pain, but of utter devastation.

Her lips trembled as she spoke, “I lost it.”

My mind went blank. “Lost what?”

Tears filled her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she whispered, “The baby.”

I instinctively shifted back, confusion crashing over me like a wave. The word felt foreign, as if it had been plucked from another reality entirely.

“The—baby?” What baby?

She nodded slowly, gripping the towel tighter, as if it were her lifeline. “I didn’t tell you yet because I wanted to be sure everything was safe. I was just over two months…” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she pressed the heel of her hand to her mouth, as if trying to stifle the sob that escaped.

Everything inside me froze in that moment.

Two months.

Two months since we moved into this house. Two months since she married Ethan. Two months since my life had begun spinning out of control, faster than I could grasp.

I hadn’t even known.

A low, broken sound escaped her throat, and she folded forward, shaking. “It was too soon, Claire. I—I should’ve been more careful, I should’ve—”

“Stop,” I said softly, even though my own voice trembled. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

But deep down, I questioned whether my words held the weight they needed to.

The kitchen lights were still on, and I was ready for the comforting embrace of silence, perhaps to make myself a cup of tea and curl up in bed. But what I found instead made me stop dead in my tracks at the doorway.

Elijah was standing in the kitchen, a bloody scene unfolding around him. He was shirtless, humming a faint tune as he danced around the stove. I could hardly believe my eyes, but when he turned briefly, I saw the pots bubbling on the stove.

Elijah was…

Cooking.

For a moment, the image didn’t even register as real. Elijah Daniels—my emotionally unavailable, infuriating stepbrother—was actually cooking.

The rich scent of butter and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the chaos of my thoughts.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, lost in his own world, muttering something under his breath, likely grumbling about the pan. Even in moments of decency, he had to sound annoyed.

But then, his wolf sensed my presence before he did. I watched as his entire body stiffened, shoulders tightening with an instinctual awareness. I felt my own wolf bristle, suddenly acutely aware of his dominance. When he turned to face me, his eyes flashed a faint gold, a warning and an invitation all at once.

A low, instinctive growl rumbled from his chest before he could contain it.

It wasn’t loud, but it sliced through the air, hitting my nerves like a whip.

Startled, I instinctively began to retreat, my heart racing. The chair behind me caught my heel, and I stumbled—

—but I didn’t hit the ground.

In that same instant, Elijah moved.

He caught me by the waist, one hand pressed against my back, the other steadying my arm. The motion was so swift, so fluid, that it felt as if time had blurred around us.

For a moment, all I could hear was the sound of our breathing, the world fading away as our eyes locked.