Chapter 11

Chapter 11
Father’s Voice

Claire's POV

The candlelight in the guest room trembled the same way my hands did. Faint. Unstable.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my knees pulled to my chest, staring at the phone in my palm like it was some foreign thing. It hadn’t buzzed in days. Not even a message.

But tonight… it rang.

“Dad?” I whispered, pressing the phone to my ear.

His voice came through, tight with static but unmistakably his. “Claire?”

A tremor passed through me. I closed my eyes. The last time we’d spoken, he’d told me to keep my head down. To be careful. “Don’t let them see you break,” he’d said.

Now his voice held something else. Worry. Regret. “Are you okay?”

My throat closed up. The truth burned like acid behind my teeth. I wanted to scream. No. I’m not okay. They think I’m a murderer. I don’t sleep. I don’t breathe without checking who’s watching. And I’ve never been this alone.

But I swallowed it all.

“I’m fine,” I said, quiet but firm.

A lie so soft, it almost felt like truth.

He sighed. The kind of sigh that said he didn’t believe me, but he wouldn’t press. “We heard about Alec. The whispers reached Crystal Falls. They’re blaming you, aren’t they?”

I didn’t answer.

There was silence. Heavy. Then he said, “Claire… just survive. You hear me? No hero moves. No risking yourself to prove something to people who already made up their minds.”

My grip on the phone tightened. “I didn’t do anything, Dad.”

“I know.” His voice cracked, just a little. “That doesn’t matter to them. Stay smart. Stay alive.”

“I will.”

He hesitated. “I miss you, kiddo.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. “Me too.”

Then the door creaked open.

I turned, heart thudding.

Blake.

He stepped inside, his silhouette framed by moonlight. His gaze locked onto mine instantly, unreadable and sharp.

I froze.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me like he was trying to figure out what I was made of.

I lowered the phone slowly. “I have to go,” I murmured into it.

“Stay strong,” Dad said, then hung up.

I set the phone on the nightstand and stood. “Were you listening?”

“No,” Blake said, his voice low. “But I heard enough.”

I crossed my arms. “Are you here to accuse me again?”

His jaw ticked. “I haven’t accused you.”

I laughed, sharp and humorless. “You haven’t defended me either.”

He took a step closer. “Is that what you want?”

My pulse spiked. The air in the room felt too tight.

“What I want,” I said slowly, “is for someone to look at me and not see a damn curse.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t speak.

I took another breath and snapped, “Do you think I did it?”

The words hung between us like smoke. Tangled. Toxic.

Blake didn’t answer.

That silence—it hit me harder than if he’d screamed.

“Wow.” I let out a bitter breath and shook my head. “That’s all I needed to know.”

“I didn’t say yes,” he said finally.

“No. You just said nothing. Which is worse.” I turned away from him, my hands trembling again. “You think I came here to hurt your pack. That I let Alec die. That I poisoned pups.”

“Claire—”

“Don’t.” I turned back, my voice cracking. “Don’t say my name like you care when you’re standing there, looking at me like I’m some… experiment.”

“I never said I didn’t care.” His voice was low now. Barely above a whisper.

And that—that stopped me cold.

I blinked. “Then what is this? What are we?”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Just watched me like I was a fire he couldn’t figure out how to put out.

“You brush against me like it matters,” I continued, stepping toward him, anger bleeding into something else. Something dangerous. “You touch my arm. You say soft things when no one’s around. Then you disappear again like none of it happened.”

He exhaled hard. “I can’t protect you and want you at the same time.”

My chest tightened. “Then stop pretending.”

He stepped forward suddenly. His hand gripped my arm—not hard, but firm. “I’m not pretending.”

I stared up at him, breath caught in my throat.

We were too close now. The heat between us climbed like static. My heart pounded in my ears.

His gaze dropped to my lips.

I swore I felt the room tilt.

“Blake…”

His hand trembled as he released me. “You think I don’t want to kiss you?” he asked, voice raw.

My breath hitched.

“Every damn time I’m near you, I have to fight it,” he muttered. “Because if I give in—if I let myself need you—I won’t come back from it.”

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

I stepped closer, closing the distance. “Then stop fighting.”

His breath shuddered. His lips were inches from mine.

I thought he would.

I wanted him to.

Instead, he pulled away.

Took two steps back like I burned him.

“I can’t,” he said.

The hurt punched through me so fast I almost staggered.

“But you do think I did it,” I whispered.

His gaze hardened. “I think I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

That stung more than I wanted to admit.

I backed up. “Then don’t come here again. Don’t touch me. Don’t pretend like you care when all you’re doing is watching me fall apart and waiting to see if I break in the right direction.”

His face didn’t shift. Not a blink. But I saw it. The way his jaw clenched, the way his fists curled like he wanted to reach for me and didn’t trust himself to.

“I told you not to break,” he said.

“And I told you I’m fine,” I shot back.

Another lie.

We stared at each other in silence.

Then Blake turned and walked toward the door.

My chest rose and fell too fast. Too loud.

He paused at the threshold, not looking back.

“You deserve someone who doesn’t flinch when you walk into a room, an equal” I said, voice trembling.

And still, he didn’t turn.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And I was alone again.

Only this time, it didn’t feel like the silence after a funeral.

It felt like the silence before a storm.