The air behind the stage was thick with anticipation. The Electric Grove Theater hummed with the low thrum of a crowd gathering beyond the curtains—muffled voices, laughter, the occasional sound check echo, distant but electric.

Backstage was dim, lit only by a few overhead bulbs and the glow of the LED strips around the racks of gear. The scent of warm stage paint, fresh gaffer tape, and excitement filled the space.

Cassie was running vocal warm-ups in a corner, pacing like a panther.
Maya was tuning her guitar silently, jaw set in steely focus.
Rico adjusted his strap for the third time, not nervous—just dialed in.
Jonah sat cross-legged on a crate, tapping out imaginary fills on his knees, earbuds in.

Near stage right, Gabriel sat on a coil of spare cable, one leg bouncing restlessly.

Thane stood nearby, paws on his hips, quietly inspecting the new power distro rack.

Gabriel looked up at him. “You ever think we’d actually get here?”

Thane snorted softly. “Honestly? Not after the cult mansion. Or the truck stop. Or the busted amp in Little Rock. Or the week Jonah broke two mic stands and his own nose.”

“I didn’t break my nose,” Jonah called from across the room.

“Your face hit the cymbal,” Gabriel replied.

“Still counts as percussion,” Jonah muttered.

Gabriel looked back at Thane. “This feels… real. Like we belong here.”

Thane met his gaze, the edge of his muzzle softening. “We do belong here.”

Gabriel smirked. “You’re getting sentimental, old wolf.”

Thane flicked his ear. “Don’t push it.”

Gabriel stood and stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Hey. For real. You kept us together. Through all of it. I know you always say it’s the pack, the gear, the work, whatever—but you’re the one who never let go.”

Thane looked at him, eyes steady. “It’s not about me. It’s all of us. I just… couldn’t stand the thought of losing this.”

Gabriel leaned his forehead gently against Thane’s—just for a heartbeat. No words. Just fur brushing fur, and the quiet rhythm of breath.

“I know,” he murmured. “But I need you to hear it anyway.”

A little further down the hallway, Mark sat at the lighting desk, hands on the controls, watching the pre-show timers count down.

Cassie walked over and nudged him. “You good?”

Mark nodded once. “It’s a good room. Good rig. Good crowd.”

“…You nervous?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment. Then:

“I don’t get nervous. I get ready.”

She smiled. “Damn right you do.”

The stage manager stuck her head in the door. “You’re on in five.”

Thane turned to the rest of the band, voice low but solid. “We give them a show they’ll never forget.”

Gabriel’s grin returned, full tilt. “Let’s burn it down.”