The sky was charcoal gray as Feral Eclipse pulled into the gravel pit that passed for the motel parking lot. The sign—half lit, half falling off—read “Rest Eazy Inn”, like it was a challenge.

Rico peered out the window and groaned. “There’s literally duct tape on the roof.”

Cassie leaned over. “Is that… barbed wire on the fence?”

Jonah pulled his hoodie tighter. “Yeah. Yeah it is. I think it’s there to keep us in.”

The band tumbled out of the van, road-weary and rain-damp, dragging bags toward the motel office—a foggy glass box that smelled like despair and cat pee. The desk clerk was a 400-year-old man with a nicotine-stained beard and a voice like a chainsaw filled with gravel.

“You the ones in 4A through 4G?” he rasped. “Don’t touch the mini-fridge. It bites.”

Gabriel blinked. “…what now?”

“No refunds,” the man added, tossing them seven keys with mismatched plastic tags.

Ten minutes later, Thane stepped into his room.

And immediately howled.

Not a metaphorical howl. A full-chested, claws-out, pissed-off alpha roar.

The bathroom light flickered like it was haunted. The tile floor was cracked and sticky. The mattress had one spring poking out and a suspicious stain the size of a dinner plate. And in the bathroom—three cockroaches were having a conference in the sink. One was wearing what looked like a piece of hair gel wrapper as a cape.

Gabriel opened the adjoining door between their rooms and instantly flinched back.

“Thane? You okay—”

“NO. I AM NOT OKAY.” Thane was standing shirtless in the bathroom doorway, holding a motel towel like it had personally offended his ancestors. “THERE ARE BUGS IN THE SHOWER. I SAW FANGS.”

Across the hall, Mark was calmly wiping grime off the inside of his window with a t-shirt. “Mine just smells like mildew and broken promises.”

Rico poked his head out of his room. “Mine smells like… cherry cough syrup and despair.”

“Mine has a dead cricket in the fridge,” Maya reported, stone-faced. “He had a tiny tombstone made out of a hotel mint.”

Cassie emerged, holding up a single flip-flop. “Is this blood? Or barbecue sauce? Or both?”

Thane stormed out of his room, claws out, fur bristling, ice-blue eyes blazing. “I swear to Luna, if another roach waves at me, I will burn this place to the ground with my bare fangs.”

Gabriel tried—tried—to be the voice of reason. “Thane. Deep breath. We’ve stayed in worse.”

“No,” Thane growled, “we haven’t.”

Mark strolled out behind him, still calm, still grumpy. “Mine came with a tiny Gideon Bible and a raccoon footprint on the ceiling. But hey—at least the lights work.”

The group stood in the parking lot for several seconds. Rain started to fall again. Jonah dramatically dropped his duffel bag in a puddle.

“I vote we sleep in the van.”

Everyone, including Thane, simultaneously muttered, “Seconded.”

They reloaded everything in grim silence and piled back into the van. At least it didn’t have roaches. Just old fries under the seats and Gabriel’s three empty coffee cups rolling around like soda cans in a washing machine.

Cassie pulled her hoodie over her face. “Next stop better just have bedbugs, not boss fights.”