The porch had never seen this much attention.
Thane wasn’t even sure the porch could handle this much attention. It creaked under the weight of nine band and crew members, three camera operators, one overzealous reporter, and at least two fans who had somehow snuck into the hedges and were now live-streaming the event on Instagram with handmade “I ❤️ GABRIEL” signs.
The crowd beyond the sidewalk was utterly silent. Waiting.
The KFOR reporter — perfectly made up, her blouse immaculate and her expression dangerously focused — held the mic like it was a dagger.
“First of all,” she began with a dazzling, camera-ready smile, “thank you to the members of Feral Eclipse for agreeing to speak with us directly from your front porch, no less!”
Thane stood to the left of Gabriel, arms crossed, jaw tense. His ice-blue eyes scanned the crowd like a hawk on a battlefield.
Gabriel, by contrast, waved with both hands like he was the mayor of Chaosville. “Hellooooo, Oklahoma!”
A wave of cheering rippled through the crowd before quiet fell again.
The reporter leaned in. “Let’s begin with the obvious. Your European tour was… intense. Viral videos, sold-out shows, unhinged afterparties, a pirate ship — ” (she side-eyed Mark, who raised a brow and didn’t deny it) “ — but what most of Oklahoma wants to know… what exactly happened at the airport?”
A ripple of whispers moved through the crowd.
Gabriel visibly tensed beside Thane. His ears flattened a little.
Thane stepped forward half an inch.
Cassie beat him to it, her smile razor sharp. “You mean the part where our bassist was detained for smiling too hard in a cockpit?”
The crowd laughed.
The reporter didn’t.
She pushed. “There were serious concerns from the FAA. Were there intentions to impersonate a pilot? Were you aware how dangerous it is to allow unauthorized access to the flight deck?”
Gabriel winced.
Thane’s voice dropped low, deadly calm. “He sat in the co-pilot’s seat. For one photo. At the captain’s invitation.”
“But the handcuffs —”
Cassie cut in, “You mean the ones he snapped like a breadstick when he stood up too fast?”
More laughter from the crowd. The reporter flushed slightly.
Jonah chimed in, “Y’all act like we hijacked a plane. We literally just flew home.”
The reporter licked her lips, regrouping.
“Some critics have suggested the band is reckless. That you’ve gone from musical success stories to dangerous influences. That the ‘werewolf image’ — ”
Rico raised a hand. “Ma’am. It’s not an image.”
Gabriel finally spoke, voice quiet but firm. “You don’t have to like us. You don’t have to believe we deserve the love we get. But if you think I’d ever hurt someone — ever endanger people I care about — just for a photo op?” His voice cracked a little. “Then you don’t know anything about us.”
That silence was no longer respectful.
It was electric.
The reporter opened her mouth again —
But Thane had had enough.
“Interview’s over.”
The crowd gasped. The camera guy panicked.
The reporter blinked. “I—I still have several —”
“No,” Thane growled, stepping between her and Gabriel. “You had your chance. You made your angle clear. You’re not getting another soundbite to twist.”
“But —”
Thane turned slightly and let out one short, commanding growl.
It wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
The crowd roared.
The pack turned and filed back inside the den one by one, high-fiving fans as they went, leaving the flustered reporter stammering on live TV while social media exploded.
By the time the front door slammed shut behind Mark — who turned just long enough to wave cheekily at the camera — the hashtags were already trending:
#PorchGate
#ThaneShutItDown
#LetGabrielFly
#KFORGetsClawed
Inside the den, the pack collapsed into the living room.
Jonah was already laughing.
Gabriel looked over at Thane, eyes shining with pure admiration.
“That,” he said, “was so awesome.”
Thane just exhaled and muttered, “We are never doing porch press again.”
But deep down?
They all kind of knew they absolutely would.