His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 63

**TITLE: Betrayal Births by Joseph King**

**Chapter 63**

**Claire’s POV**

The phone feels heavy in my hand, a tangible reminder of the unsettling conversation I just endured. When Elijah strides back into the room, he halts at the threshold, his gaze piercing through me as if he can sense the storm brewing inside. The moment his eyes lock onto my face, a flicker of concern crosses his features, deepening the worry etched into his brow.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice steady yet tinged with an underlying current of anxiety.

I blink rapidly, trying to gather my scattered thoughts and regain my composure. “Nothing. Just… a wrong number,” I manage to say, though the words tumble out without conviction, like a fragile façade ready to shatter.

He narrows his eyes, a frown deepening the lines on his forehead. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I said it was nothing,” I insist, forcing myself to place the phone face down on the couch, my palms clammy against the cool fabric. The tension in the air thickens, wrapping around us like a suffocating shroud.

Elijah stands firm, his eyes darting between the phone and my anxious form. “Who called?” he presses, his tone sharpening with each word.

“I told you, it was—”

“Don’t lie to me, Claire.” His voice drops to a low, even timbre, but I can feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface. “You were pale when I walked in. What did they say?”

My heart begins to race, pounding against my ribcage like a frantic drum. “It doesn’t matter,” I reply, but the tremor in my voice betrays my facade of calm.

“It matters if it involves you,” he replies firmly, his concern palpable.

I meet his gaze, frustration bubbling within me at his unwavering authority. “You think everything involves me.”

“Lately, it has,” he retorts, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes me feel exposed.

The silence that envelops us feels heavy, suffocating. Reluctantly, I pick up the phone and extend it toward him, my pulse quickening. “Here. See for yourself. Unknown number, no name.”

He accepts the device, scrolling through the screen with a frown deepening on his face as he reads the call log. “This is the same number that texted you before the attack, isn’t it?” he asks, urgency creeping into his voice.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I respond, my anxiety escalating with each passing second.

“You didn’t think to block it?” His question is sharp, and I bristle at the implication, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

“I didn’t expect anyone to keep using it,” I snap back, my frustration spilling over like a dam about to burst. “And I certainly didn’t expect to be dragged into all this again.”

Setting the phone down on the table, he leans closer, his expression serious. “What did they say?”

I avert my gaze, the memory of that haunting voice replaying in my mind. “They said not to trust him.”

He freezes, his body tensing as if I’ve struck a nerve. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, shaking my head as if that could dispel the dark cloud hanging over us. I press a hand against my chest, trying to calm the storm within. “It was a man’s voice. This time, it wasn’t static. He said it once and then hung up.”

Elijah studies me intently, his jaw clenched tight as he processes my words. “You should’ve told me immediately.”

“I’m telling you now,” I retort, my voice rising slightly, fueled by a mix of fear and frustration.

“That’s not good enough. You could’ve been targeted again,” he states, his tone sharp enough to cut through the tension.

The sting of his words hits me hard, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “I was scared, Elijah. I didn’t have time to think about what protocol you’d approve of.”

He exhales slowly, visibly trying to rein in his emotions. “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry that whoever this is keeps getting close enough to reach you.”

His words weigh heavily on my heart, a reminder of the danger lurking just beyond our walls. “You think they’re watching the house?” I ask, fear creeping into my voice, each word laced with dread.

“I think they’re watching everything,” he replies, his gaze turning toward the window, where the world outside feels distant and menacing. His shoulders are tense, and his hand hangs half-curled at his side, revealing his own unease. “Did you recognize the voice?”

“No,” I admit, the uncertainty gnawing at my insides. “But it didn’t sound like one of the rogues. It was… calm. Like someone trying to warn me.”

“Or manipulate you,” he counters, his brow furrowing as if considering the implications of my words.

“Maybe,” I say quietly, uncertainty gnawing at me. “But what if it’s true? What if I shouldn’t trust someone?”

He turns to face me, his eyes dark and intense, a storm brewing behind them. “You shouldn’t trust anyone outside this house right now.”

His declaration sends a chill down my spine. “You mean besides my mother and Ethan?”

“I mean besides me,” he clarifies, his gaze unwavering, and I feel the ground shift beneath me.

I blink in disbelief, my heart racing. “What?”

“I’m the one who’s been handling your security. If they wanted to warn you, they’d tell you not to trust me.”

A cold shiver runs through me at his words, the implications sinking in. “Why would they?”

He looks away, his jaw tightening as if grappling with his own thoughts. “Because I’ve made enough enemies in this pack to fill a room. People who would rather see me fall than protect you. Forget the whole perfect heir image and how good I am on ice. I have enemies everywhere, and my life isn’t as fine as it seems.”

The silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable. I struggle to find the right words, but nothing comes. Finally, he moves back to the couch, sitting across from me, his tone softer this time, as if trying to bridge the chasm that has formed between us. “I’ll track the number. Don’t answer if they call again.”

“Okay,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the night pressing heavily on my shoulders.

He rises but hesitates at the door, glancing back at me, his expression filled with unspoken words. “You should try to sleep.”

“I don’t think I can,” I confess, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me like a heavy fog.

He looks as if he wants to say more, but instead, he nods once and exits the room, leaving me in a silence that feels almost suffocating.

Once he’s gone, I pick up the phone again, staring at its black screen. My reflection stares back at me, faint and weary, a ghost of the person I once was. I can’t wrap my mind around who could be behind this or what they want from me. I set the phone down and force myself to lie back on the couch, but it takes hours for exhaustion to finally claim me.

When I awaken, sunlight pours through the windows, painting the floor in golden hues. The clock reads past nine, a reminder of the day ahead. I push myself up slowly, my muscles protesting from sleeping in an awkward position. As I head downstairs, I find my mother in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove, the comforting aroma filling the air.

“You’re awake,” she says softly, a hint of relief in her voice. “Did you get any rest?”

“Some,” I reply, trying to sound more assured than I feel, the weight of last night still lingering in my mind.

She offers a faint smile, her eyes warm with maternal concern. “Good. Eat before you start thinking too much again.”

I attempt to return her smile, but it feels weak and unconvincing, a mask that barely conceals my inner turmoil. “Has there been any news about Naomi?”

“She’s stable. The healers say she might be able to go outside in a few days,” she informs me, her eyes reflecting a mix of hope and worry.

“That’s good,” I say, but my heart is still heavy with the shadows of doubt.

Her gaze searches mine, concern evident in her expression. “You don’t look convinced.”

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