The venue’s back lot had mostly cleared out, the paparazzi finally retreating after being thoroughly shamed and out-alpha’d by the pack. But the tension still lingered — you could feel it in every step, every breath. Crew members moved like they were dodging invisible landmines. Even Mark looked more tired than gruff.
Gabriel was the first off the bus after the dust settled. He rubbed his face with both clawed hands, tail dragging, expression somewhere between rage and heartbreak.
“That was brutal…”
“Still standing,” Thane said softly, stepping up beside him. Their shoulders brushed. “Still a pack.”
And then they noticed her.
She’d been sitting by the alley wall, across from the loading dock — a plain folding chair tucked under her, a thermos in her lap, and a small homemade cardboard sign held close to her chest.
It read:
“I’m not here for autographs. Just wanted to say thank you.”
She was older. Maybe mid-sixties. Dressed in a Feral Eclipse hoodie so old the ink had cracked and faded. Her hair was silver, long, in a braid that hung over one shoulder. She had a softness to her that the years hadn’t hardened — just steadied.
Cassie was the first to notice. Then Maya. Then the rest of the crew came to a slow halt on the ramp, watching her with a silent reverence.
She stood — slow, a little stiff — and held the sign out like an offering.
“I’m sorry for the chaos,” she said gently, her voice warm but shaking. “I’ve been waiting here for two days. I didn’t know if you’d even see me. But I had to try.”
Gabriel stepped forward, ears up, eyes softening.
“You waited out here… for us?”
She nodded.
“I don’t go to concerts anymore. I’ve got some health stuff. But I listened to your acoustic set from the benefit show — the one with the rain? And… something in it just clicked. I lost my husband last year. And I’d stopped playing guitar after. Gave it up. Didn’t see the point.”
She smiled — bittersweet, but proud.
“Your music made me pick it back up. I’m not good. But I want to be. Again.”
Nobody spoke.
Until Jonah whispered, “Holy crap,” and tried to wipe his eyes with his sleeve without looking like he was wiping his eyes.
Gabriel crossed to her slowly and crouched to her level, claws gently tapping her thermos as he smiled.
“What’s your name?”
“Darla.”
“Darla, can I give you something?”
He unclipped the laminated All Access badge from his own lanyard. His. Not a spare. Not a crew one. His.
“You’re in the front row tonight. I want you to hear us the way you deserve to.”
She took it with both hands, eyes misty.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “And thank you for reminding me that it’s okay to keep living.”
Gabriel smiled, his voice a murmur.
“We all need that reminder sometimes.”
Thane stepped up behind them and — very carefully — placed a clawed hand on Darla’s shoulder. She looked up at him in awe.
“You’re the kind of fan we dream of,” he said simply. “Thank you for waiting.”
Maya gave her a side-hug. Cassie offered her a custom backstage hoodie from the merch bin. Rico grinned and said he wanted a photo later — “not for social. Just for me.”
Darla just laughed. “You’ve already given me everything I needed.”
As the crew headed in for load-in, Darla watched them disappear into the back of the venue, the sun starting to set behind the building. She tucked her badge against her chest like a sacred relic and whispered:
“My wolves…”