It was a rare, quiet afternoon as the van coasted into San Francisco. No press. No fans swarming the van. Just a quick stop at a local music store so Gabriel could restock strings before soundcheck.

The place had charm — old wood floors, vintage posters curling at the corners, a little bell that jingled when the door opened. Gabriel stepped in with Thane right behind him, claws casually clicking as he scanned the aisles.

As Gabriel rounded the amp display, he heard it—his own riff. Slower. Slightly off-tempo. But it was his.

Near the practice corner stood a kid, maybe eleven, maybe younger, tall for his age with oversized glasses and a look of pure focus. He was gripping a cheap bass, concentrating like the world depended on it. Across from him, a tired-looking mom juggled a baby in one arm and a phone in the other.

On the wall behind the counter, high up, hung an unmistakable red Ernie Ball DarkRay 5 with a black pickguard and a laminated “NOT FOR SALE” tag dangling from one tuning peg.

Gabriel walked up slow and knelt beside the kid, keeping his voice low. “Hey. That’s one of our songs.”

The boy blinked and looked up.

Then froze.

Gabriel smiled. “You’re doing awesome. What’s your name?”

“Leo,” he whispered. “Wait… are you…?”

“I am,” Gabriel said with a grin, then looked at the mom. “This your son?”

She nodded, eyes wide. “He loves your band. He’s been coming in here every weekend just to mess with that bass.”

“Can’t afford it,” Leo added quietly, like he hated admitting it.

Gabriel stood up and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Well, Leo… I think you and your family should come to the show tonight. VIP passes. Backstage. Merch. The whole experience.”

The kid’s jaw dropped.

“You serious?”

Gabriel winked. “Would I joke about something like that?”

That night, the San Francisco crowd was at full frenzy, the floor shaking as Feral Eclipse lit up the stage. Halfway through the set, Gabriel stepped to the mic and raised one clawed hand to quiet the crowd.

“I want to introduce you to someone,” he said. “This kid’s name is Leo. I met him today in a little music shop around the corner. And he was playing my song. On bass.”

He looked toward the wings. “Leo—come here, buddy.”

Spotlight hit the edge of the stage.

Leo appeared, wide-eyed, nervous, clutching his all-access badge like it was sacred.

The crowd went wild.

Gabriel crouched and motioned him closer. “Now, you weren’t expecting this part,” he said into the mic, “but I want you to help me play the next song. Right here. With my bass.”

He slung the red DarkRay off his shoulder and handed it gently to Leo, who stared like it was Excalibur.

The arena hushed.

Gabriel leaned in, nose-to-nose, and whispered, “You’ve got this. Don’t think. Just feel it. You’re a wolf now.”

Leo’s fingers trembled against the strings.

Then the lights shifted. The beat dropped. Jonah hit the drums.

And Leo played.

At first, shaky. But Gabriel stayed right behind him, nodding to the rhythm, tail flicking in time. The crowd cheered louder with every note. When Leo hit the bridge perfectly, the entire arena erupted.

When the song ended, Gabriel raised Leo’s arm like a champion.

Then he knelt down, pulled a silver pen from his pocket, and signed the back of the bass.

“You’re keeping this,” he said, voice soft but firm.

Leo’s mouth dropped open again.

“I mean it,” Gabriel added with a grin. “It belongs with you now.”

Backstage, after the show, the boy’s mother was crying. Leo was cradling the signed bass like it was alive, and the baby was chewing on a tour lanyard like it was the best teething ring in history.

Thane knelt beside them and ruffled Leo’s hair. “You did good out there.”

Gabriel crouched next to him for a photo, his arm around Leo’s shoulder.

“Best night ever,” Leo whispered.

Gabriel smiled, cheek to cheek. “Told you, kid. You’re one of us now.”