E M I L Y
Elijah and I stood in front of my father, the tension in the room was thick, it could be sliced with a knife.
He sat behind his large mahogany desk, his fingers steepled in front of him, and his expression unreadable.
"Elijah," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "Would you care to explain why you felt the need to start a brawl at my daughter's birthday celebration?"
Elijah's jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on a point just over my father's shoulder.
My father's gaze shifted to me, his eyes, so much like my own, searching my face for an answer I didn't want to give.
"And you, Emily," he continued, his tone hardening. "What do you have to say for yourself? You’re proving to be more and more incompetent in my plans towards the werewolves."
I flinched at
