The lights stayed dim, but the screens? Blinding.
Phones, tablets, laptops — every glowing rectangle in the house was active and overloaded as the entire pack huddled into a den-wide social media deep dive. For the first time since the airport chaos, everyone was talking again. Laughing. Gasping. Shouting across rooms with, “You have GOT to see this one!”
They were sprawled everywhere — on couches, on floors, on pillows and beanbags and sleeping bags that had mysteriously appeared again. Gabriel had reclaimed his perch wedged between Thane and Mark on the big sectional, curled up with a phone in one paw and a pillow hugged tightly to his chest. He scrolled, eyes wide, tail twitching with every post.
Maya shouted from the kitchen. “Y’all. There’s a guy who got a tattoo of Gabriel’s mugshot. Like, not a joke — an actual mugshot from the security camera feed.”
Gabriel blinked. “I didn’t even have a mugshot!”
“Doesn’t matter. He made one. You look kinda hot, honestly.”
Cassie howled laughing from the armchair. “Look at this tweet! ‘Feral Eclipse may be breaking laws, sound barriers, and HOA regulations, but they’re healing my heart.’ Oh my god, I’m framing this.”
Jonah, sitting crisscross on the floor, held up his iPad. “Someone did a video edit of Gabriel walking into the airport security office with the Avengers theme playing in the background. It’s like… dramatic and weirdly touching.”
Mark, deadpan from the hallway doorway, added, “Someone photoshopped me into the cockpit of a plane with the caption, ‘Mark flew Spirit once and that’s why he’s like this.’”
Thane burst out laughing.
“Send me that one,” he said.
Emily was quietly wiping tears from her eyes from something she’d just read. When Gabriel looked over, concerned, she handed him her phone without a word.
The post was simple: a handwritten letter scanned and uploaded by a fan.
Dear Gabriel,
I’ve always been scared to be myself. People at my school think being different makes you wrong. But when I saw you on that plane, smiling even after everything, it made me feel like maybe it’s okay to be who I am.
You’re my hero. Thank you for being brave. Thank you for not hiding.
—Jordan, age 14
Gabriel didn’t say anything.
He just quietly passed the phone to Thane, then buried his face against his shoulder with a long, shaky breath.
Rico, lounging with his legs up on the ottoman, held up his phone. “Yo, can we talk about this one though?” He turned it to show a poorly photoshopped image of the pack standing in front of the White House, except they’d all been given sunglasses, Secret Service earpieces, and were holding briefcases.
The caption read: ‘Feral Eclipse returns to the US to fix everything.’
Jonah cackled. “They think we’re Batman.”
“They think we’re insane,” Cassie corrected.
Mark grumbled, “They’re not wrong.”
There were posts that made them laugh until their ribs hurt.
There were videos that made them pause with goosebumps.
There were comments that stung — cruel things said by people who didn’t understand or refused to. The ones about werewolves being dangerous. Monsters. Fakes. A few of those made Gabriel’s ears twitch, but he didn’t react much. He was in the middle of his pack. Safe. Grounded.
By late afternoon, the house looked like a tech graveyard. Chargers ran everywhere. Half-eaten snacks littered every surface. Jonah had built a fort of throw pillows and was narrating Instagram comments like a war historian.
“This guy thinks the whole thing was an elaborate marketing stunt and we’re all AI-generated characters. He even has a whole video series breaking it down like a conspiracy doc.”
Cassie chuckled. “Can’t lie, that’s kind of flattering.”
“I like the one that says I’m a government psyop,” Gabriel said.
“You would.” Thane nudged him.
As night crept in, the posts kept flowing.
And somewhere between a fan’s emotional tribute reel and a clip of Maya shouting at airport security (edited with dubstep), something strange happened.
They all felt normal again.
Not rock stars.
Not social media cautionary tales.
Not chaos wolves on the run from internet hysteria.
Just the pack.
Back in their den.
Together.
Still laughing. Still snarking. Still very much themselves.
The chaos had come for them again.
But this time, they didn’t just survive it.
They owned it.