Emily At An All Boys Werewolf Academy!

Capable

Emily’s pov

"Impudent child! Can’t you see the adults are still speaking? How dare you interrupt us?" Elder Greg snaps, his voice echoing through the hall. I keep my head down, biting back a retort. From the corner of my eye, I catch my mother’s movement, her hand clutching her gown in shock. She’s about to kneel and beg for my pardon, but I subtly gesture behind my gown for her to pause. She stops, uncertain.

"Elder Greg, of course Emily may speak," the Alpha King interjects smoothly. "She has every right. After all, it was her twin brother who passed." He nods to me, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Go on, little Emily. Share your thoughts. You have my permission."

Once upon a time, I would have loved to see that look in his eyes, that approving smile. As a child, that smile could light up my entire day. Back then, I was so taken with him that I even vowed to marry him. My family would laugh at my childish daydreams until he finally “compromised” by arranging an engagement to his son.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I say, keeping my tone formal in contrast to his familiar warmth.

"Little Emily," he says, his smile deepening, "must you be so formal? Am I not ‘Uncle Freddie’ to you anymore?"

I force a smile, though my stomach twists with tension. I can feel every pair of eyes in the room on me, waiting to judge my next move. One wrong word could end my family faster than any of these vultures could manage. So, I let out a polite laugh, then respond, "Uncle Freddie."

His eyes glimmer with satisfaction, but I’m already planning my next move. "What if my brother was murdered?" I say, letting the words hang in the air.

Silence. I can feel the weight of my father’s stiffened posture beside me. He must have thought the same, but he could never voice it—his words carry too much weight, too much risk for the family. But I, on the other hand, can always play this off as childish fancy, as some “conspiracy theory” cooked up by a naive young woman who watches too much television.

"What ridiculous conspiracy is that?!" Elder Greg scoffs, right on cue.

"probably nonsense from those infernal television sets," Mr. Harris chimes in, smirking. "Mrs. Taylor, do you allow one in your home?"

"Y-yes, we do," my mother says, frowning in confusion. "Why?"

Mr. Harris chuckles. "Ah, just that my wife has noticed those shows planting strange ideas about murder in our children’s minds. She’s stopped letting them watch it, and I’d advise the same for you, Madam."

My mother’s frown deepens, but she manages a calm response. "I appreciate your concern, Mr. Harris. However, like her brother, Emily is highly intelligent. I doubt a few shows could sway her thought process."

That’s my mother—sharp and unyielding, even now. Before becoming a housewife, she was a warrior in the rogue wars, fighting alongside the men. That was before the laws changed, when so many women lost their lives in the battles that the population of she-wolves dwindled. The government decided it was best for us to stay home, to “preserve our roles.” A bitter truth, considering my mother’s skill and strength were once celebrated. Now she’s expected to keep her head down, even as they target everything her son died for.

"You—"

"Let's hear Emily out." The Alpha King interrupted, his once-smiling face now growing serious. "Murder is a serious accusation, Emily. You understand that, don’t you?"

I paused, assessing. Earlier, I’d decided to reveal the cryptic note only if their reactions suggested they’d listen. But instead, they had proven themselves suspects. If my brother really had the capacity for suicide, these people—his superiors, the ones he worked so tirelessly for—should have been the first to demand an investigation. Instead, they shelved his case and scrambled for his rewards.

I clenched the hem of my dress, steadying myself. "Intuition," I replied carefully.

The Alpha King raised an eyebrow. "Intuition? Go on."

"My brother and I… we’re twins, right?" I led them on, step by step, refusing to reveal my cards too quickly.

"Yes, and?"

"We’re connected. We sense each other's distress. We think alike." I took a slow breath. "It’s the twin phenomenon."

Elder Greg scoffed, unimpressed. "So you’re basing this murder theory on a superstition? How absurd! ‘Twin phenomenon’—such nonsense!"

"Your Majesty, this young lady is wasting our time. Dismiss her," he demanded, his voice cutting through the room like a sharp blade.

The Alpha King shook his head slowly. "Emily, the elder has a point. I’m disappointed. I’ve always held your intelligence in high regard, especially for someone of your age."

I took a quiet breath. I hadn’t expected them to believe me so easily. It was time for the next step in my plan. Letting out a desperate cry, my voice echoing through the hall. "Please, Your Majesty!" I begged, throwing myself before the Alpha King and the elders, my forehead touching the cold, hard floor.

"Emily!" my parents gasped, their voices thick with fear and shock.

I loved my family, but I hated their reaction—their constant fear that I was fragile, that I’d break at the slightest stumble. For me, falling to the hard, cold ground was nothing compared to what awaits me if my plan succeeds. They had no idea what I was capable of, nor what I was willing to endure to uncover the truth.