His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 64

**Betrayal Births by Joseph King**
**Chapter 64**

**Claire’s POV**

As I crossed the threshold into the room, the air felt thick with unspoken tension, and I immediately noticed Elijah’s reaction. He shot up from his chair, his body taut as if I had unleashed a tempest just by entering. His brows furrowed deeply, and his eyes fixated on the phone I was extending toward him, the glow from his desk lamp casting shadows that danced across his face, emphasizing the strain etched in his features.

“What happened?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it vibrated with concern.

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my voice steady as I replied, “They called again.”

In that moment, it was as if the world around us had come to a standstill. His body went rigid, and I could see the urgency flicker in his gaze. “When?” he demanded, the tension in his tone palpable.

“Five minutes ago,” I managed to say, my heart pounding in my chest, each beat echoing the gravity of the situation.

He closed the distance between us, stepping forward with an intensity that made my breath catch. “What did they say this time?” His eyes bore into mine, searching for the truth I was about to unveil.

I met his gaze, the silence between us stretching out like an eternity, thick and suffocating, before finally mustering the courage to speak. “They told me the same thing they told me before.”

The atmosphere shifted, becoming heavier with the weight of unspoken fears. I could see the shadows darken in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened as he took the phone from my hand with a deliberate slowness. His thumb moved over the screen, scrolling as if the answers were hidden within the glass, and when he finally looked back at me, his voice was steady but quieter, as if he were trying to shield me from the truth. “Did they say anything else?”

“Yes.” I hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. “They told me to ask you what really happened to my father.”

A transformation washed over Elijah. He froze, his hand pausing mid-motion, and his gaze shot up to meet mine, now sharp and penetrating.

“What did you just say?”

I repeated it, deliberately slowing my words, needing to gauge his reaction. “They said to ask you what really happened to my father.”

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came forth. The air felt electric, charged with the weight of our shared history. He glanced down at the phone again, then placed it face down on the desk, as if it were a burden too heavy to bear.

“Claire,” he began, his tone carefully measured, “whoever called you is trying to manipulate you. They’re using something they know will hurt.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

His eyes met mine again, unwavering yet inscrutable. “What question?”

“What really happened to my father?” I pressed, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within me.

He exhaled sharply, the sound escaping like a breath he had been holding for too long. “You know what happened. Your mother told you.”

“She told me he died in an accident,” I challenged, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “But that’s all she ever said. No one else talks about it. Not her, not Ethan, not even you. And now someone who clearly knows more than they should is bringing it up. So tell me. What aren’t you saying?”

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away momentarily, as if the weight of the truth was too much for him to bear. He paced once, then halted, his expression grave. “You don’t want to hear this.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”

For what felt like an eternity, he remained silent, the tension between us palpable and thick. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet yet heavy with gravity. “Your father didn’t die in an accident.”

The impact of his words hit me like a physical blow, my heart racing as if trying to escape the reality of what he had just revealed. “Then how?”

Elijah’s expression shifted, as if he were weighing the burden of the truth. “It wasn’t a car crash. It wasn’t sickness. He was killed.”

The world around me began to tilt, and I gripped the back of the chair beside me, desperately trying to steady myself. “What?”

“He was killed,” Elijah repeated, his voice firm and unwavering. “By rogues.”

My mind went blank, his words echoing in my head as I struggled to comprehend the enormity of his revelation. “That’s not possible. My father wasn’t—”

“He wasn’t,” Elijah interjected, “but he got caught up in something that wasn’t meant for him. There was a border fight near your old town. A few wolves broke through and started attacking anyone nearby. Your father tried to help someone, and one of them turned on him.”

I shook my head slowly, disbelief washing over me like a cold wave. “You can’t know that.”

“I do,” he insisted quietly. “Because my father was there. He was part of the team that handled the aftermath.”

My throat tightened as the realization dawned on me. “Ethan knew? My mother knew?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping as if he were ashamed. “Yes.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the rapid thrum of my heartbeat beneath my palm. “And they never told me.”

“They didn’t want you to carry it,” Elijah explained gently. “They didn’t want you to grow up afraid of what we are.”

My eyes stung, but I blinked furiously, refusing to let tears fall. “You knew, too.”

He nodded, the weight of the truth hanging heavily between us.

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t supposed to.”

My voice rose, sharp and trembling with emotion. “You had months to say something, Elijah. Months. You looked me in the face every day, and you let me think it was an accident. Was it even worse that you hated me from the start? So what? You were trying to protect me then too?”

He stepped closer, his expression earnest and pleading. “Because it wouldn’t have changed anything except how much it hurt. You were already adjusting to life here. You were still learning how to control your wolf. If I’d told you the truth, you would’ve spiraled.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“I know,” he admitted softly, his voice laced with regret. “But it’s done now.”

I took a step back, shaking my head in disbelief. “Don’t talk like that. You kept a secret about my father’s death. That’s not something you get to just move past.”

He looked at me, his gaze steady yet filled with a hint of guilt. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. But I swear to you, Claire, I had nothing to do with that call. Whoever’s trying to get to you is using what they know to turn you against me.”

I pressed my hands together, fighting against the tremors that threatened to betray my composure. “And why should I believe you?”

He leaned back slightly, his voice calm and reassuring. “Then we find a new version of it.”

The simplicity of his words caught me off guard. I glanced at him, noticing the way he looked straight ahead, his profile sharp against the dim light. There was a tranquility in his posture now, a quiet determination that I found oddly comforting.

“You’re good at sounding calm when everything feels like it’s falling apart,” I remarked quietly, a hint of admiration creeping into my tone.

He offered a faint smile, a glimmer of warmth in the midst of turmoil. “I’ve had practice.”

I studied him for a moment, then looked away, my thoughts swirling. “So what happens now?”

“I’m going to double the guards. I’ll also make sure your phone is monitored. That call wasn’t random. They know exactly what to say to get a reaction from you.”

“And you think they’ll try again?”

“Yes.”

My throat tightened again, anxiety creeping in. “Then maybe I should talk to Naomi. She might know something.”

“Not yet.”

“Elijah—”

“No,” he said firmly, cutting me off. “Not until I know it’s safe.”

The finality in his tone made it clear that the discussion was over. I sighed, the restlessness within me bubbling to the surface, and stood up, unable to remain still any longer.

He stood as well, his eyes following me. “Claire.”

I halted but didn’t turn back to face him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “For all of it.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the tightness in my chest. “I know.”

When I finally turned to face him, I found him watching me with that same unreadable calm. I could sense he wanted to say more, but the words remained unspoken.

“Goodnight,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight.”

As I walked back to the house, each step felt heavy with the weight of everything that had transpired. I paused halfway up the stairs, glancing back through the window. Elijah remained in the garden, standing near the fountain, hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring into the darkness as if searching for answers in the void.

For the first time, I couldn’t discern whether he was guarding me or keeping something else hidden away.

And the uncertainty of which one frightened me more lingered in the air like a ghost.