His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

**Claire’s POV**

“Elijah…” The name escaped my lips, a soft whisper that felt more like a prayer than a mere utterance. It hung in the air, fragile and electric, as if the very sound could shatter the tension that enveloped us.

He stood before me, a steadfast shield against the encroaching threat posed by the two men. His presence radiated an unshakeable resolve, a silent promise that he would protect me at all costs. His eyes, sharp and piercing, sliced through the oppressive atmosphere, while his steady breathing was a stark contrast to the chaos that threatened to erupt around us.

The men hesitated, their bravado faltering as they assessed the situation. “I thought the pretty boy wasn’t supposed to be here,” one of them sneered, irritation dripping from his words like venom.

The taller man, a jagged scar marring his brow, reached beneath his jacket, a flash of metal catching my eye. Time seemed to slow as Elijah sprang into action, seizing the man by his collar and slamming him against the wall with a force that rattled the framed photographs hanging there. The other man froze for a split second, hands hovering uncertainly, but then, fueled by a reckless aggression, he swung a metal pipe directly into Elijah’s ribs.

A sickening groan escaped Elijah’s lips, and I felt my heart drop as I watched his grip on the pinned man weaken. The struggle escalated rapidly, and soon Elijah found himself cornered, both men closing in on him like vultures.

A wave of dread washed over me, cold and suffocating, as I noticed the crimson stain blooming at the side of his ribs.

“Elijah!” My voice cracked, desperation spilling over as I felt rooted to the spot, my body trembling uncontrollably. I fumbled for my phone, but everything around me blurred into a haze of panic and fear.

Then, in an instant, it was as if a switch had been flipped inside him. I felt the raw power of his wolf-like strength surge to the forefront, and he charged at both men with a ferocity that took my breath away.

I gasped, my heart racing as I watched him move with an agility that was almost supernatural—kicking, dodging, punching, and swinging until both men were gasping for breath, their bravado crumbling like a house of cards under his relentless assault.

Finally, one of them collapsed onto the floor, leaving the other at Elijah’s mercy. With a fierce grip, Elijah seized the man, lifting him off the ground, his hands clamping around the man’s throat like a vice.

“Who sent you?” Elijah’s voice was low, yet it resonated with a chilling authority that demanded answers, a clear warning laced within his words.

The man remained silent, panic flickering in his eyes like a dying flame. Elijah tightened his grip, and the sound of the man’s desperate gasps echoed in the café, a haunting reminder of the stakes at play.

“Stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, trembling with fear. My back pressed against the cold wall, my hands clutching my chest as my heart raced painfully beneath my ribs.

Elijah’s focus was unwavering, as if the world around him had faded into nothingness. After what felt like an eternity, he released the man, allowing him to crumple to the floor, gasping for air.

He turned to me, his eyes scanning my face, neck, and hands, searching for any signs of injury. “Did they hurt you?” His voice softened, urgency threading through his words like a lifeline.

I shook my head, my hands still trembling. “No.”

Without warning, he stepped closer, wrapping me in a warm embrace that enveloped me like a protective cocoon.

The warmth of his body seeped into me, and I felt my breathing gradually steady, calmed by his presence.

The café was eerily quiet now, the only sound the faint clatter of a glass shard rolling across the tiled floor. Everyone else had fled, leaving only the waitress crouched behind the counter, her wide eyes glued to her phone as she whispered into it, fear etched on her features.

Elijah’s gaze flicked to the men sprawled on the floor, groaning in defeat. “Get out before I change my mind,” he commanded, his tone flat and unyielding. His eyes had transformed into a vibrant blue, the wolf within him shining through, and his aura felt almost suffocating.

They scrambled to their feet, panic evident in their movements, and bolted for the exit, their footsteps fading into the night.

Once they were gone, Elijah’s eyes returned to me, a flicker of concern dancing within their depths. “You should have called me earlier.”

“I didn’t know what was happening,” I replied, my voice still unsteady. The remnants of fear tangled in my thoughts. I glanced at his face, noting the cut on his lip and the blood soaking his side. Something had definitely broken.

He reached out, his hand hovering near my arm before dropping it. “Come on,” he said gently. “You need to go home.”

I followed him outside, my legs feeling like jelly beneath me. The sunlight was blinding after the dim café, and the street lay quiet, almost deserted. Elijah led me to his car and opened the passenger door for me.

I sank into the seat, my heart still racing but gradually calming. He walked around to the driver’s side, slid in, and started the engine.

“Next time,” he said, his voice low and serious, hands gripping the steering wheel with a strength that belied the tension in the air, “don’t come out alone.”

I nodded, my fingers clenching the seat as if it were the only thing grounding me. “I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to meet with Naomi today.”

He didn’t respond, the silence stretching between us like an unspoken agreement.

As we drove away, the café shrank in the rearview mirror until it was nothing more than a fading memory. I didn’t ask how he knew to come; I wasn’t ready for those answers yet.

I stared out the window, focusing on the passing landscape, trying to steady my racing heartbeat.

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