By the time the bus rolled into the next city, Gabriel’s tearful duet with his father had hit 20 million views. Every clip, every shaky fan recording, every angle of that moment had been turned into reaction videos, remixes, and musical analysis breakdowns. There was even a slowed-down orchestral version trending under #FatherStrings.

What no one was prepared for — not even Emily — was the absolute avalanche that followed.

It started with the phones.

Diesel tossed his burner out the window somewhere in Rhode Island.
Cassie’s rang nonstop until she finally screamed into it, “NO, I’M NOT DOING THE VIEW!”

By the time they reached the venue loading zone, it was clear this was no normal tour stop.

“Feral Eclipse tour bus spotted!”
“Is that them? OH MY GOD, IT’S GABRIEL—”

Dozens of reporters.
Hundreds of fans.
A drone.
Two people in inflatable bass guitar costumes.
A TikTok influencer livestreaming while sobbing into her cold brew.

Cameras and Claws

The wolves stepped off the bus first, flanking the humans like bodyguards.

Gabriel smiled warmly, trying to keep the peace — but the second one of the journalists shoved a mic into his face and screamed,

“DO YOU THINK YOUR DAD IS A BETTER BASSIST THAN YOU?!”
he flinched.

And then Thane stepped forward.

“Back. Up.”
Low. Calm. Ice.

The reporter laughed — laughed — and poked the mic toward Thane’s chest.

“Oh come on, smile for the camera, big guy! Give us a roar!”

Bad move.

Thane’s clawed hand shot out, and SNAP — the mic was now in three pieces, raining down like metallic confetti. The reporter staggered back, clutching his wrist with a yelp.

Mark calmly stepped between them and muttered,

“Y’all just earned a restraining order.”

Emily tried to shield Cassie and Jonah as they ducked through the crowd, while Rico had to physically lift a reporter off the top step of the bus. Maya? She screamed at one camera guy until he tripped over his own cord and fell into a rack of camera gear.

“That’s on you,” she snapped, stepping over him like a queen dodging spilled wine.

Gabriel finally roared — not in anger, but sheer frustration —

“GUYS, ENOUGH. BACK OFF.”

The roar echoed across the loading dock.

Everyone froze.

Even Thane looked at him with wide eyes.

Later, Inside

Security finally cleared the area enough for them to get into the green room. Emily collapsed on the couch, hair in chaos. Cassie was pacing, Mark was sharpening a pencil, and Jonah was still nervously filming it all for some chaotic “Tour Hell Diaries” vlog.

Gabriel sat on the floor, head in his paws.

Thane loomed behind him, arms crossed.

“You good, my wolf?”

Gabriel looked up, gritting his teeth.

“No. I’m gonna punch someone. I can’t breathe out there.”

Thane crouched in front of him, resting his claws gently on Gabriel’s knees.

“Next one touches you like that, I’ll break both their elbows and say they fell on my tail.”

That got a tiny smile. “Tempting.”

Mark, from across the room:

“You say the word, and I’ll rig the next stage to collapse if anyone yells ‘exclusive.’”

The Last Straw

Then came the final blow: a knock on the green room door.

A timid intern peeked inside.

“Um… CNN, GMA, and Rolling Stone are here. They all said they won’t leave until they get ten minutes with Gabriel.”

Gabriel groaned.

Thane’s ears flattened. His tail lashed.

He stepped forward and growled so low it made the doorframe vibrate.

“Tell them if they don’t leave in sixty seconds, I’ll drag their equipment vans into traffic and light ‘em on fire.”

The intern vanished like smoke.

Thirty seconds later?

Silence. They were gone.

Maya high-fived Thane.

Mark didn’t smile, but said,

“You do have a way with people.”