The bus was rolling into Dallas, sunlight slicing through thick clouds above the sprawling skyline. This wasn’t just another stop—it was the stop. The venue was the legendary Lone Star Pavilion, a massive hybrid indoor-outdoor amphitheater known for hosting everything from music royalty to political galas.

And tomorrow night? It was Feral Eclipse’s turn.

Inside the bus, the vibe was different.

Less chaotic, more focused.

Everyone was on edge, in their own way.

Cassie stood at the small kitchenette, reviewing a stack of printed schedules and press itineraries while sipping black coffee like it was rocket fuel. “We’ve got three local radio interviews, one acoustic lounge set for livestream, two photo ops, and VIP meet-and-greet. Also—apparently the mayor wants a selfie.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Tell him to buy a hoodie like everyone else.”

Rico, seated beside the window with his guitar, kept tuning and retuning the same string. “Anyone else feel like this one’s got… weight?”

Jonah nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… the air’s thicker. And not just because I dumped protein powder on the vent again.”

Emily sat cross-legged on the lounge bench, typing up interview notes while stealing glances at the band’s official socials. “Fan buzz is huge. Everyone knows this is the biggest one yet. Even the haters are watching.”

Mark, across from her, said nothing. He was reviewing lighting cues on his tablet—but his jaw was clenched just slightly too tight. That was his version of pacing.

Thane was in the back compartment, running diagnostics on the sound rig. He’d been back there for two hours.

Gabriel finally wandered in, carrying two mugs—one full of freshly brewed espresso, the other full of fireball-laced hot chocolate. He handed Thane the latter.

“You’re tense.”

“I’m focused.”

“You’re biting your own claws.”

“…Fair.”

Thane leaned back with a sigh, his shoulders relaxing only slightly as Gabriel plopped down beside him and rested his chin on Thane’s shoulder.

“This one matters,” Thane murmured. “Big crowd. Big press. First time the label’s fully on-site. We screw this up, it’ll haunt us.”

Gabriel nuzzled gently into the side of his neck. “We won’t screw it up. We’ve never been tighter. Even when things explode or catch fire or become edible somehow—we land it.”

Thane huffed. “Still not over the taco, huh?”

“I named it.”

Later that evening, the crew held a final prep meeting in the bus lounge.

Emily passed around printed itineraries. Mark reviewed every light fixture on the rider twice. Cassie double-checked the vocal mic replacements. Jonah got serious, actually serious, and promised no glitter—”unless absolutely necessary.”

And at the very end, Thane stood and looked around at them all.

“I know we joke. I know we clown. But tomorrow? Tomorrow we remind the world why we’re not just some viral fluke. Why we’re real.”

Gabriel raised his mug.

“To every fan that got us here. To every taco hurled in love. And to not setting anything on fire unless it’s intentional.”

“HEAR HEAR!” Jonah yelled.

Cassie muttered, “Dear god, someone muzzle him.”

Outside, Dallas twinkled like a sea of stars. And inside, the wolves and their crew were ready.

Tomorrow would be big.

But tonight… they were together.

And that was enough.