It was late morning, and the den had finally stopped vibrating from the aftershocks of last night’s impromptu block party. Empty water bottles lined the driveway. The air still smelled faintly of barbecue and hickory smoke. Inside, the pack was in full recovery mode — slouched on bean bags, sprawled across couches, and munching on leftover brisket like it was currency.

Thane was in the kitchen, sipping a dangerously strong cup of black coffee, when his phone rang. Not the tour phone. His actual phone.

He glanced at the screen.

KFOR News HQ

His ears tilted back slightly.

He stepped into the hallway, answered with a curt, “Thane.”

The voice on the other end was calm, older, and far more professional than the chaos-chasing reporter from the day before.
“This is Darren Maxwell, News Director over at KFOR.”

Thane didn’t answer right away. He let the silence hang just long enough for it to get uncomfortable.

“I wanted to personally apologize,” Darren said quickly. “I saw the live feed of yesterday’s segment. That was… not what we approved or intended.”

“Looked pretty intentional from where we were standing,” Thane growled.

“I know. I’m not making excuses. I just — ” Darren paused. “I saw Gabriel’s face. The way that question hit him. That wasn’t journalism. That was cheap clickbait theater, and it’s not what we want to be known for.”

Thane exhaled through his nose. He didn’t trust the media. Any of them. But… at least this guy sounded like he had a soul.

“I’m calling to ask if we could do a second interview. A proper one,” Darren continued. “In a controlled studio environment. I’ll personally conduct it. No surprises, no baiting. Just a chance for you and your pack to speak honestly and maybe even start to heal the damage yesterday caused.”

Thane stared at the far wall for a moment. The silence from the den was eerie — no shouting, no Gabriel air guitaring on the table, no Jonah setting something on fire by accident. Just quiet. Reflective quiet.

He thought about Gabriel’s face — so damn open — and the way it had folded inward when that question was tossed like a grenade.

“Why should I believe you?” Thane said finally.

“Because if you come in and we do try to pull anything,” Darren said calmly, “you’ll have a hot mic and a live camera to destroy us. And I’ll deserve it.”

That… was a ballsy thing to say.

Thane rubbed the back of his neck. Then he nodded, even though the man couldn’t see it. “Fine. We’ll come in.”

A pause.

“But if one single syllable comes out of your mouth that smells like spin or clickbait — I will ruin your entire newsroom. We’re werewolves. We can outlast your advertisers.”

There was a faint chuckle on the other end. “Understood. I’ll have coffee ready. And Gabriel’s favorite pastries. I did my homework.”

Thane smirked. “You’d better have his exact coffee order. If you get it wrong, he’ll talk about it on air.”

Darren laughed. “Deal.”

They hung up.

Thane stepped back into the living room, where the pack looked up at him like sleepy wolves in a den. Gabriel tilted his head, still chewing the last bite of his fourth sandwich.

“What’s up?”

Thane just looked at him and said, “You’re getting your interview redo.”

Gabriel blinked. “Wait — seriously?”

“They want to make it right.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Why do I feel like you threatened to maul someone?”

“I didn’t threaten to maul anyone.”

Mark raised an eyebrow.

Thane shrugged. “Okay, maybe light mauling. But only if they screw it up again.”

Cassie leaned back and grinned. “Well then… let’s give Oklahoma a second helping of truth.”

And somewhere, a very nervous news director was already triple-checking his camera angles.