After narrowly escaping their surprise fan ambush at 97.1 The Eagle, the Feral Eclipse crew did what any band of rockstars and werewolves running on zero sleep and a lot of adrenaline would do:
They hunted breakfast.
The tour bus rolled into the parking lot of a sleepy little retro diner tucked just off the highway—a chrome-and-neon place called Ruby’s All-Nite Eats, known for pancakes the size of hubcaps and waitresses who’d seen it all. Or so they thought.
Inside, it was the quiet lull between morning rushes. A few truckers sipped black coffee at the bar. A booth of college kids were fighting over a plate of shared fries. A local band geek in a Metallica shirt sat alone, pretending not to notice the Feral Eclipse tour bus pulling up.
Then the door opened, and in walked seven humans, three barepaw werewolves, and a tidal wave of backstage energy.
The silence was immediate.
Behind the counter, a young waitress—probably fresh out of high school, name tag reading LINDSAY — turned around, saw Gabriel ducking under the doorway with his signature grin and clawed feet, and froze like a deer in a spotlight. Her eyes went full saucer. Her mouth fell open.
And then she dropped the entire pot of coffee.
The crash of shattering glass echoed like a cymbal hit. Hot coffee splashed across the floor. Half the diner gasped.
Mark blinked once.
Then, without saying a word, he walked over to the supply corner, grabbed a mop and bucket, and calmly began cleaning up the mess like he worked there.
“Safety first,” he muttered gruffly. “Bare paws, broken glass and hot coffee don’t mix.”
The silence cracked.
Someone from the booth nearest the window—one of the contest winners from the radio station—let out a loud gasp. “MARK’S DOING JANITORIAL WORK?! OH MY GOD.”
Another whipped out their phone. “#WerewolfWorkEthic! He’s MOPPING! He’s literally mopping!!”
Phones went up like a forest of antennas. The Metallica kid slid out of his booth so fast his pancakes launched into orbit.
Meanwhile, Gabriel helped a very red-faced Lindsay to her feet and gently patted her shoulder.
“Deep breaths. We’re just here for eggs.”
Thane, not missing a beat, began shoving tables together near the back. Cassie snagged a stack of menus and handed them out like she ran the place. Maya herded the rest of the crew into chairs with the stern grace of a bouncer at brunch.
By the time the mop hit the bucket for the third time, the diner had gone from half-full to completely overloaded. Word spread like fire across social media—Feral Eclipse is at Ruby’s! Thane is real! Mark mops! Gabriel smiled at me!—and within ten minutes, the parking lot looked like a rock festival. People were pressing against the glass outside, peering in, phones raised, trying to get a shot of the mythical pack breakfast.
Inside, though? It was oddly calm.
Jonah poured syrup over a short stack and tried to set the world record for most sausage links in a mouth. Emily snapped a selfie with a fan who’d brought a custom plushie of the tour bus. Rico signed a shoe. Maya let a kid draw a cartoon of the band on a napkin. Gabriel pulled out a salt shaker and started balancing it on Thane’s ear mid-bite.
“You’re gonna regret that,” Thane warned, not even looking up from his hash browns.
“Nah,” Gabriel said. “I’ll regret not doing it.”
Cassie laughed so hard she nearly snorted her coffee.
Outside, someone held up a sign scrawled in marker:
WE LOVE YOU, JANITOR MARK!!
Mark, still holding the mop, raised a clawed hand in a silent salute and muttered, “I am never living this down.”