Sunlight filtered through the living room blinds like an accusation. The place looked like a band of raccoons had thrown a rave.
Empty Solo cups littered the floor. A pair of jeans hung from the ceiling fan. Someone’s drumstick was jammed into the toaster like a forgotten art installation. A faint, muffled guitar riff came from the backyard—probably Rico asleep with his wireless pack still on.
Thane stepped out of his bedroom, squinting like the sun owed him money. His fur was matted. His black polo was on inside out. He stepped over a pile of hoodies, a spilled bag of chips, and what may have been Jonah curled up in the laundry basket muttering something about needing “more hi-hat.”
Gabriel appeared beside him in pajama pants and a tour hoodie, holding a spatula like a trophy and grinning way too wide for this hour.
“We makin’ breakfast or conducting search and rescue?” Thane asked.
“Bit of both,” Gabriel said. “Come on. I’m outta eggs, but I got frozen waffles and exactly one pot of decent coffee left.”
Mark was already seated at the dining table in complete silence, staring at the mess with a thousand-yard stare and sipping from a coffee mug that read “World’s Okayest Lighting Tech.” He didn’t speak. Just handed Thane a bottle of ibuprofen like a battle-worn medic.
There was a knock at the door.
Then another.
Then a full police cruiser siren chirp.
Thane raised a brow.
Gabriel peeked through the window and laughed. “Oh, you are not gonna believe this.”
Two uniformed officers stood on the front porch, coffee cups in hand. The same ones who’d showed up the night before to “handle” the backyard concert. Behind them was a black-and-white SUV. From it stepped a tall, square-jawed man in a pressed uniform with four gold stars on his collar… and a teenage girl vibrating with excitement beside him in a Feral Eclipse hoodie two sizes too big.
“Chief of police,” Gabriel said, nudging Thane. “With his kid. We’ve been upgraded.”
Thane opened the door. “Morning, officers.”
“Morning,” one said. “Just checking in on crowd control from last night. Also — ” he held up a crumpled t-shirt, “ — your bass player signed my uniform, and I’m not even mad.”
The chief stepped forward and extended a hand. “I’m Chief Ramirez. My daughter, Ava, is—well, let’s just say your band has been the only thing playing in our house for about a year.”
Ava looked like she might pass out from excitement.
Gabriel gave her a small wave and whispered to Thane, “I got this.”
Ten minutes later, the living room had been turned into a makeshift waffle buffet. Jonah emerged from the laundry basket, bleary-eyed and victorious. Maya passed out disposable plates like a breakfast goddess. Rico tuned a guitar with one hand and poured syrup with the other. Cassie plopped down next to Mark and immediately stole his toast.
And Gabriel?
He sat cross-legged at the dining table with a roll of laminate paper, a hole punch, and a lanyard. “Alright, Ava. I hereby grant you full VIP access to the official Feral Eclipse Den Venue.” He presented the pass with a dramatic flourish. “Good for life, non-transferable, and comes with bragging rights.”
Ava took it like it was made of solid gold. “Can I take a picture?”
Thane nodded, grinning. “Hell, take ten.”
She did. With Gabriel. With Thane. With the waffle stack.
The chief, watching from the corner, shook his head but smiled. “You guys throw a hell of a show. Just, uh… maybe give us a heads up next time.”
Thane chuckled. “That’s assuming we know when it’s happening.”
Outside, a few lingering fans had started a small acoustic singalong on the sidewalk. A neighbor dropped off a tray of cinnamon rolls with a handwritten note that said “Thanks for the music. Come to the HOA meeting next week?”
Mark read it and muttered, “Oh, I’ll come. With a fog machine.”
Gabriel high-fived him.
The house was still a disaster. The fridge was mostly condiments. The fence needed replacing. But the air was warm with laughter, coffee, and the kind of joy that only follows absolute, no-holds-barred mayhem.
And as Ava clutched her all-access pass like it was the key to the universe, Thane leaned against the counter, watching the pack — his pack — and smiled.
They were home.
For now.