No one had moved. Not a single one of them.
The den, normally full of music and light and chaotic werewolf energy, had gone dark and quiet for two straight days. Every blind was drawn. Every curtain was shut.
The outside world was losing its mind.
Thousands of fans had descended on the quiet suburban street in Edmond like it was the site of a holy pilgrimage. The drone count was in the dozens — some zooming, some hovering, some even attempting to peek through the cracks in the window blinds. They never got much. The band had kept a strict “no peeking, no posting, no public” policy. And it held. For forty-eight hours.
Inside, it was a bubble of willful ignorance.
Gabriel had not left the couch, curled under a blanket like a big black-furred anxiety burrito. He was calm now, finally. But every time a knock echoed through the den or someone’s phone vibrated too close to him, he flinched like he was being hunted.
Cassie and Maya had taken over the downstairs living room TV with a rotation of movies and reality shows. Jonah was camped out on the beanbag pile with a controller in his hands, completely engrossed in some PS5 chaos.
Rico was in the kitchen, making a sandwich that was roughly the size of a car battery.
Mark hadn’t left his office upstairs except to grumble about the power bill or ask who left the back door cracked. He was fully immersed in Microsoft Flight Simulator, taking his quad-screen setup and absurdly realistic flight controls very seriously. At some point during day two, he’d landed a simulated A320 at Heathrow and muttered, “See? No airport drama there.”
The front door had been knocked on fourteen times.
Thane hadn’t answered a single one.
Until the fifteenth.
The ring of the doorbell echoed through the den, crisp and deliberate. It was followed by a ping from the Ring cam in the living room.
Thane, half-dozing with his head on the arm of the couch, lifted his phone and tapped it open.
Three police officers stood on the porch — two uniformed, one in a button-down and badge: the Edmond Chief of Police.
Thane sat up, groaning as his spine popped. “Okay. That one I gotta answer.”
Gabriel bolted upright, wide-eyed. “Police?”
“They’re not here to arrest you, my wolf,” Thane said gently, reaching down to ruffle Gabriel’s fur. “They’re not even holding zip ties.”
But Gabriel didn’t relax. He sat rigid, clutching Mark’s yellow couch pillow in his lap like a lifeline while Thane made his way to the door.
He cracked it open with cautious eyes — and was immediately met with the kindest smiles you could imagine.
The Chief raised a hand in a small wave. “Hey there. Sorry to bug you.”
Thane stepped fully into view, one hand braced on the doorframe. “You’re not bugging. We’re just… decompressing.”
“We figured as much,” said one of the officers. “We saw what happened. That whole airport situation has gone viral six ways from Sunday. Half the city thinks you were thrown in Guantanamo.”
The Chief chuckled. “We just wanted to stop by and check in. See if you needed anything. Groceries, security detail… a tactical drone jammer?”
Thane cracked a smile for the first time in days. “Tempting on that last one.”
They all chuckled.
“We’re good,” Thane said sincerely. “Everyone’s safe. Just… taking a beat.”
The Chief nodded, respectful. “Well, we’re fans too. If you need anything, just call.”
As they turned to go, Thane paused and looked past them — his eyes catching on what lay just beyond the curb.
Hundreds of fans.
Quiet.
Still.
They weren’t shouting. They weren’t pushing. They weren’t waving signs or cell phones. They just were. Sitting cross-legged on the grass. Standing with candles. Silent. Waiting. Hoping. Holding space.
Something cracked in Thane’s chest. The good kind.
He thanked the officers again, shut the door gently, and walked back into the den.
Gabriel immediately looked up, eyes searching.
“Just a wellness check,” Thane said, sitting beside him again. “They’re fans too. Everyone’s just worried.”
Gabriel exhaled for what felt like the first time in days and let his head drop against Thane’s shoulder.
“We good?” Cassie asked.
Thane nodded. “Yeah.”
Jonah stood and stretched. “Screw it. I wanna know what the internet’s saying.”
That was the cue.
Phones were unlocked.
Apps reopened.
And a flood of chaos came crashing through like a tidal wave of pixels.
There were memes, tributes, angry TikToks, emotional reels, conspiracy theories, duets, fan edits, breaking news headlines, blurry zoom-ins from the Ring camera, and at least one incredibly well-edited video titled “Free Gabriel” with dramatic music and wolf howls.
Gabriel, still nestled against Thane, blinked down at his phone and whispered, “I… think I love them.”
Thane scritched the top of his head. “We all do.”
The den stayed dark.
But the heart of the pack?
Still beating.