The Apex They Could Never Own: A Werewolf Romance of Power, Possession, and Fate novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Black Cuff
The cuff locks black on Dara's wrist in front of the whole Trial Hall, and when the Speaker moves to Hold her at Highgate she refuses and walks out, ending on Ansel waiting in her garage.
The cuff locked around my wrist, and it was black.
Every wolf in the hall saw it from their folding chairs.
Tin is the color of an ordinary wolf, and black belongs to the Apex.
Only one black cuff exists in the world at a time.
I had come to the Trial hoping for tin.
I had even practiced my shrug for it.
My best friend shot up in the second row so fast her chair crashed over. "That's not tin!" she yelled.
"I can see that," I said.
My voice came out normal, but the hand still resting on the Trial table was shaking.
The official in charge bent over my wrist and read the stamp twice.
"Apex," she said. "Heikkinen, Dara. Apex."
Nobody clapped.
Then my father came shoving through the crowd, past two silver-cuffed wolves who stepped back to let him.
Dad is fifty-four and wears a work shirt to everything, even this.
"There's been a mistake," he told the official. "She's tin. She's always been tin. Check the ring again."
"Toivo, the ring doesn't make mistakes," the official said quietly.
He looked at my wrist, then at me, and I had never seen him that scared.
I looked up at the Council table on the dais.
Ansel Thackwell was standing in front of it.
He had worn the black cuff for seven years.
Everybody in the valley knew his face from the stories about what he did when the Council gave him an Order.
His left hand was shoved into his pocket.
When he shifted his weight, the sleeve slid back and showed a pale band of skin around his wrist.
He wasn't looking at the cuff on mine.
He was looking at me, and he gave me one small nod.
The Speaker of the Council stood up from the middle chair.
Edmund Corbin has sat at our kitchen table every Christmas since my mother's funeral.
He pays for the flowers on her grave every spring.
"Ansel," he said gently, "where is your cuff?"
"It let go at the bell, sir," Ansel said.
His voice was flat, and he kept his eyes on me.
A murmur went through the hall.
Corbin let it run, then lifted one hand, and the room went quiet for him.
"Well," he said, and he smiled at me. "That is a wonderful thing to learn about the cuffs."
He came down the dais steps in his gray cardigan, the same one he wore to our house.
"Kiddo," he said, "nobody is going to ask you to do anything you don't want to. Nothing about your life has to change."
My father's fists unclenched, and I felt my own shoulders drop an inch.
"The Council only needs to keep you safe," Corbin went on. "An Apex has enemies by tomorrow morning."
He smiled at my father.
"I've had a room made up for her at Highgate. You can visit on Sundays, Toivo. Your garage loan is forgiven, of course. Consider it a gift."
The Council members at the table nodded along.
I understood then what that room was.
A wolf who is Held at Highgate does not come back down the mountain.
Every kid in the valley learns that before they learn to drive.
I looked at my father, who had stopped nodding.
I looked at Hattie, my best friend, who was already climbing over the chairs toward me with her red braid swinging.
I looked at the black cuff, which was warm now, almost friendly, and that made me angrier.
"No," I said.
The hall went still again.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Corbin," I said. "I'm going home."
"Dara," he said, still smiling. "Sweetheart. Think about your father."
"I am," I said.
So I stepped out of the ring, picked up my jacket and walked down the middle aisle in front of three hundred wolves.
Nobody stopped me.
Behind me Corbin said, loudly and kindly, "Of course. Take tonight with your family. Lucas will come by in the morning."
Dad caught up at the doors, and Hattie caught up at the truck.
We drove back to the garage in silence, all three of us on the bench seat.
I kept turning my wrist in the dashboard light.
The cuff would not come off.
It was almost dark when we pulled into the yard.
The shop lights were off, and I had left them on.
The side door to the garage was open.
Ansel Thackwell was standing inside it, with his left hand in his pocket and moonlight on his face.
"They're coming at midnight," he said. "Not in the morning."
"You can come with me tonight," he said, "or be owned by him by breakfast."
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