His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

**Claire’s POV**

I stood before Elijah, my mind racing, utterly paralyzed by the weight of his words. The air around us felt electric, charged with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. Each inhalation felt constricted, as if an invisible hand was squeezing my chest tighter with every passing second.

“What did you just say?” My voice emerged as a mere whisper, yet it carried an unexpected calmness, a serene facade that felt utterly alien to me in that moment.

He didn’t rush to repeat himself. Instead, he held my gaze with a seriousness that cut through the thick silence, the gentle babble of the creek behind us only amplifying the gravity of our exchange.

“I said Naomi was part of the ambush,” he finally stated, his voice steady and unwavering. “The rogues that attacked you at the café. She helped them.”

Before he could elaborate further, I shook my head vehemently, disbelief surging through me like a tidal wave. “No. No, she wouldn’t. You don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I do,” he countered, his tone resolute. “I wouldn’t bring this to you if I wasn’t absolutely sure.”

“You’re lying,” I shot back, my voice rising, laced with the sharp edge of anger. “You must be. Naomi would never do that. She’s my friend. She’s stood by me through everything.”

Elijah took a cautious step closer, as if I were a fragile object that could shatter at any moment. “Claire, I’m not lying. I didn’t want to accept this truth either when I first uncovered it, but I can’t ignore what I found.”

“What you found?” I retorted, my voice thick with skepticism. “What did you even discover? Some baseless rumor? A message? You have a personal vendetta against her because she’s my friend. You’ve resented everything and everyone connected to me since the moment I arrived. So don’t stand there pretending to care.”

His expression remained unchanged, unfazed by my accusations. “You’re mistaken,” he replied calmly. “Do you genuinely believe I would fabricate something so serious?”

“Yes,” I declared without a moment’s hesitation, my conviction unwavering. “Because it’s you, Elijah. You can be ruthless when it suits your agenda. You know how to twist the truth to fit your narrative.”

He held my gaze for what felt like an eternity, a silent battle of wills, before reaching into his pocket. “You need to see this.”

With a few deft taps on his phone, he unlocked the screen and held it out toward me.

I hesitated, a mix of dread and curiosity pulling at me, an invisible tether drawing me into the unsettling world he was unveiling.

The screen illuminated a series of chat logs—screenshots that made my stomach twist and churn with each line I read.

Unknown: “She’ll come if you tell her it’s the café. Just make sure she’s there by five.”

Naomi: “Are you sure this is safe?”

Unknown: “She’ll be fine if she stays still. You’ll get what you asked for.”

Naomi: “Okay. I’ll bring her.”

I scrolled down, my heart racing, my eyes stinging with disbelief. More messages followed, detailing the timing, the location, and how to keep me distracted, ensuring I’d be trapped long enough for whatever sinister plot they had concocted.

Each word felt like a dagger piercing my gut.

By the time I reached the end of the conversation, I felt lightheaded, struggling to catch my breath.

“Elijah,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I looked up at him, desperately searching for any indication that this was all a cruel joke. “This… this isn’t real. It can’t be.”

He swiped to another folder, revealing grainy photos. There was Naomi, standing on the edge of the café parking lot, conversing with shadowy figures whose faces were obscured, yet their presence screamed danger to anyone who dared to listen to their instincts.

Rogues.

The very rogues who had attempted to drag me away that fateful day.

I stumbled back a step, shaking my head in denial. “This isn’t true. Someone must have fabricated this. You don’t even know what you’re looking at. Maybe they edited the images. Perhaps they coerced her. You can’t know for certain.”

He exhaled softly, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I know what I saw, Claire. I traced the messages back to her number myself. Those photos were captured by security cameras near the café. I had the guards pull them.”

Rage bubbled within me, a tempest of emotions clamoring to break free. I wanted to scream at him, to demand he stop talking, but the truth was too glaring to ignore.

The image on the screen loomed large, Naomi’s hair, her jacket, her shoes—everything was exactly as it had been the last time I saw her.

“Elijah,” I said again, my voice barely a whisper, filled with a sense of desperation. “There has to be a reason. There must be something we’re missing.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, his expression softening. “But until we uncover that reason, you need to keep your distance from her.”

I frowned, confusion clouding my thoughts. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean it,” he reiterated, stepping closer, his intensity palpable. “No calls, no messages, nothing. Whoever she’s involved with might still be lurking. If she reaches out to you again, tell me first.”

“You think I’m just going to abandon her?” I exclaimed, incredulous. “After everything we’ve been through?”

He met my gaze, his expression inscrutable. “You can’t help her if you’re dead.”

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