His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 62

**Chapter 62**

**Claire’s POV**

A rush of gratitude swells within me, but my throat constricts, choking off the words I long to say. Relief floods through me so fiercely that it almost feels like pain. I can feel the sting of tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, and I quickly turn away, desperate to hide my vulnerability from him.

Naomi is carried upstairs, and I instinctively follow, my heart pounding in my chest. Just as I reach the threshold, one of the healers gently instructs me to wait outside. I stand there, my hands clenched tightly together, straining to hear the soft sounds of movement within the room. The faint rustling of fabric and the clinking of glass fill the air, each noise amplifying my anxiety. After what feels like an eternity, the healer finally steps out, and I seize the opportunity to enter.

Naomi lies beneath a pile of blankets, her breathing a slow rhythm that brings me a measure of comfort. I pull a chair close, positioning myself at her side. The room is permeated with the sharp scents of antiseptic and salt, a reminder of the ordeal she has just endured. I reach out tentatively and place my hand over hers; her skin feels warm against mine.

“You’re home,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath.

I’m startled when I notice Elijah standing in the doorway, his presence quiet yet commanding. “You should rest too,” he suggests, his tone softer than I’ve come to expect.

I look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a weariness etched into his features, a softness in his eyes that makes my heart ache. “You’re not going to sleep either,” I counter, a hint of defiance in my voice.

He shrugs, a gesture that seems to carry the weight of responsibility. “Someone should keep watch,” he replies simply.

A silence envelops us, thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Finally, I murmur, “Thank you,” my voice barely rising above a whisper.

His eyes lock onto mine, his expression serious. “Don’t thank me yet. This isn’t over,” he warns, the gravity of his words settling heavily between us.

Yet, despite the uncertainty, it feels like a beginning—a flicker of hope amidst the shadows.

The atmosphere in the house shifts after Naomi’s return. It grows heavier, as if the very walls are laden with unspoken fears. Everyone moves with a hushed urgency, even the guards, their footsteps muted. The healers come and go, entering her room every few hours to check her vitals and change her bandages. I remain by her side for the majority of the day, anxiously waiting for her to awaken. Each twitch of her fingers sends a jolt of hope through me, but her eyes remain stubbornly closed.

Ethan and Elijah are constantly in and out of meetings, their faces grim as they handle the influx of reports from border patrols and scouts. The rogues have fallen silent, and Ethan insists that this is far more alarming than any open confrontation. It signals that they are plotting something sinister. My mother spends every moment she can by Naomi’s bedside, but I can see the toll that worry is taking on her. She looks as though she hasn’t slept in days, her eyes shadowed and weary.

School feels like a distant memory now. I haven’t stepped foot in the building since Naomi was found. Ethan insisted I stay home until the situation stabilizes, and I didn’t argue. What could possibly be worth facing when my world feels so precarious?

On the third day, a miracle occurs: Naomi finally opens her eyes. I nearly drop the bowl of soup I’m holding as I witness her movement. She blinks slowly, her gaze struggling to adjust to the light before settling on me.

“Claire?” she croaks, her voice fragile and cracked.

“I’m here,” I reply softly, leaning closer, my heart racing. “You’re safe now.”

Confusion flickers across her face as she surveys her surroundings. “Where am I?” she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“You’re at my house. Ethan found you. You’ve been asleep for days,” I explain gently.

“Days?” she echoes, her lips trembling as the reality sinks in.

“Almost three,” I confirm, watching her process the information.

She nods slowly, as if trying to fit the pieces of a shattered puzzle together. Then, her gaze sharpens as she looks at me again. “You called me that night, didn’t you?”

I nod, my throat tightening. “You didn’t say anything. At first, I thought it wasn’t you, but I heard your breathing. It terrified me.”

Tears well in her eyes. “I tried to speak, but they took the phone,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

The word “they” strikes me like a cold wave, sending chills down my spine. “Naomi, who took you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

She turns her gaze away, her fingers twisting nervously at the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know their names. They wore masks. They kept talking about you. They said you were important, that you were supposed to go with them.”

My stomach knots at her words. “Did they hurt you?” I press, dread pooling in my gut.

She hesitates, her expression pained. “Not in the way you think. They needed information. They wanted to know how to reach you, where you went after school, who guarded you. They said they would let me go if I helped.”

“Naomi…” My voice falters as I struggle to process her revelation.

Her eyes brim with fresh tears. “I didn’t tell them anything. I swear. I tried to protect you. But they already knew too much.”

I take her hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe now,” I reassure her, though I can see the tension still etched on her face.

She nods, but the worry lingers in her eyes. “There was someone else there. A woman. I couldn’t see her face, but she spoke like she knew Ethan. Like she knew the pack.”

The implications of her words send my heart racing. “What do you mean?” I ask, leaning in closer.

“She gave orders. The others listened to her. I think she’s one of us, Claire,” Naomi says, her voice trembling with fear.

Before I can respond, the door swings open, and Elijah steps inside, his expression unreadable. “She’s awake,” he states, mostly to himself. His gaze shifts to Naomi. “How are you feeling?”

Naomi looks uneasy but manages to respond politely. “Better. Tired.”

He nods, glancing at me before continuing, “Ethan wants to talk to you both when she’s stable. There’s something we need to confirm.”

Naomi’s brow furrows with concern. “Am I in trouble?”

“No,” Elijah replies firmly. “But we need details. Every small thing you remember might matter.”

She nods, her fingers still clutching the blanket as if it were a lifeline. Elijah turns to leave, but his gaze lingers on me for a brief moment. It’s fleeting, but I notice it. There’s something different in his eyes lately—a softness that wasn’t there before.

Once he’s gone, Naomi exhales shakily. “He’s intimidating.”

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