The steady hum of the road was the only thing keeping Gabriel calm. He sat curled up on the long bench of the tour bus, pressed so tightly against Thane’s side it was like he was trying to physically merge into him. His arms clung to Thane’s, claws twitching involuntarily every time the bus jostled. His ears were pinned, and his glassy blue eyes stared ahead, unfocused, as though he was still in that security office.
No one dared tease him for it.
The rest of the band sat around in uncharacteristic silence, the full gravity of what had happened finally setting in now that the adrenaline was gone. Mark was the first to speak.
“I knew airports were bad, but I didn’t think they were that bad.”
Cassie nodded. “I thought they were gonna haul him off for real. He was in handcuffs, for crying out loud.”
Gabriel flinched at the word, and Thane instinctively curled a protective arm tighter around him, murmuring something low and soothing into his ear. Gabriel didn’t respond, just buried his muzzle into Thane’s shoulder.
Rico shifted awkwardly. “The guy was asking for a selfie five minutes later. It’s like… how does that even make sense?”
Jonah, sprawled backward with his feet on the coffee table, added, “Dude signed a clipboard. Like, who signs a clipboard? I don’t even know what that means.”
Then Emily’s phone buzzed.
And kept buzzing.
Then Jonah’s.
Then Cassie’s, Maya’s, and Rico’s.
The tour phone on the wall lit up next. Thane sighed, pulled it from the holder, and glanced at the caller ID.
“KFOR,” he muttered.
Everyone groaned. Before the ringtone could finish its second cycle, Thane hit decline and powered the phone off entirely with a sharp, low growl that silenced any debate before it started.
The rest of the phones, however, kept buzzing like they’d been plugged into the electrical grid. Notifications exploded across every screen — Twitter threads, TikToks, Instagram lives, Facebook theories, and at least three different YouTube thumbnails of Gabriel looking like a sad, handcuffed puppy.
“Social media found out,” Mark said dryly, not even glancing up from his phone.
Cassie nodded. “And they’re doing what they do best.”
“Which is absolutely losing their minds,” Rico muttered as a video started autoplaying of the airport security officer asking for a selfie.
Despite himself, Gabriel whimpered.
But then — at long, long last — the familiar suburbs of Edmond rolled past the tinted windows. Gabriel sat up just slightly when he recognized their street, muscles still tense. Thane kept an arm around him. The tension lifted only when they rounded the last corner and spotted their home.
Diesel pulled up to the curb in front of the modest four-bedroom den, ignoring the fire hydrant and the faded “No Parking — Tow Zone” sign like the absolute legend he was. The tour bus let out a long sigh of compressed air as the doors opened.
And right on cue… the front door of the two-story house three doors down slammed open.
“Oh for —” Mark started, already stepping off the bus.
There she was. The HOA monarch herself. Dressed in high-waisted khakis, a floral print blouse, and the sort of expression typically reserved for discovering a raccoon in the pantry, she marched down the sidewalk toward the weary, road-worn pack like she meant to issue a citizen’s arrest.
Mark intercepted her with all the energy of a grumpy bouncer outside a dive bar.
“No.” He pointed a clawed finger in her direction, brown eyes flat. “Not today.”
She opened her mouth.
He tilted his head, unmoving. “Go back inside, Linda.”
It wasn’t even a shout. It was just a statement. A low, dangerous growl curled beneath the words like thunder behind a distant hill.
Linda stopped cold.
And for the first time in HOA history, she turned around and walked straight back into her house without another word.
The rest of the band and crew shuffled off the bus without a word, too exhausted to laugh, too stunned to process any more nonsense.
The front door opened. The Edmond den was waiting.
Shoes, bags, guitars, hoodies, shirts, and snacks were shed like scales behind them as each member of the pack collapsed into whatever furniture or floor space they could claim. Gabriel found his way to the den couch and wrapped himself in the throw blanket Thane always kept there, eyes fluttering closed before he’d even settled in.
Cassie sat cross-legged on the floor with her back against the wall.
Rico sprawled across the kitchen counter like he’d been shot.
Mark took his place in the recliner like the throne it was, arms crossed, eyes already closed.
And Thane? He sat down beside Gabriel on the couch, leaned his head back, and let out a long sigh as he stared up at the ceiling of their very own den.
Quiet.
Peace.
Home.
…at least until the next chaos.