The meet and greet was already chaotic before anyone realized what Gabriel had eaten.
The venue had cordoned off a gorgeous upper concourse space lined with windows overlooking the canal, glowing fairy lights strung across the ceiling, and a long stretch of tables where the band was seated, signing everything from guitar straps to handmade plushies. The crowd was massive — more than they expected—and Amsterdam’s famously chill vibe turned into full-on hysteria when fans caught their first glimpse of the werewolves.
“Someone just fainted,” Jonah whispered across the table, pointing subtly as a venue medic gently rolled someone out on a chair.
“That’s the fourth one,” Maya muttered, adjusting her marker grip. “Are we sure we’re not toxic?”
“We are intoxicating,” Gabriel said smugly… and then immediately took another bite of the cookie he’d been handed by a sweet-looking older woman about fifteen minutes earlier.
It was buttery. It was delicious. It was… suspiciously relaxing.
“Gabriel,” Thane said slowly, narrowing his eyes as he glanced toward his plate, “where did you get those?”
Gabriel grinned lazily and pointed to the table beside them, where the sweet old woman was now proudly handing a second box of her homemade Dutch goodies to Cassie. “She said they were ‘special.’ Like local favorites.”
Thane froze.
Cassie froze.
Rico looked over and blinked.
“No,” Cassie said, a hand going to her chest. “No, no, no, no—”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Rico yelled as if in slow motion, diving across the table in a full body lunge.
But it was too late. Gabriel, looking utterly pleased with himself, had just polished off cookie number three.
The moment of silence that followed could’ve powered the entire city.
“Gabriel,” Thane said carefully, “those are probably loaded.”
Gabriel blinked. “With flavor?”
Cassie grabbed the box, sniffed it, and groaned. “With weed, wolf-for-brains!”
Gabriel stared at her. “Oh.”
Then he blinked again.
Then he laughed.
And then, slowly… Gabriel slid out of his chair, belly-first onto the floor, and simply laid there like a melted, content puddle of black-furred chaos.
“I regret nothing,” he declared to the ceiling. “Bring me the tulips. I wish to speak with them.”
The fans were loving every second. Phones came out in droves. Live streams. TikToks. Memes were being born in real time.
Emily was trying to help Gabriel sit up, which resulted in him asking if her hair was made of dreams. Mark was standing off to the side muttering, “This is why I don’t eat baked goods. You never know what’s in them.”
Jonah was laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face. “We are so banned from this country.”
“No,” Thane sighed, rubbing his temples, “we’re about to go more viral than the pancake house incident.”
Gabriel was now singing to a Dutch waffle someone had placed in his hands.
Maya leaned in. “You want me to cut this short?”
“No,” Thane said, defeated but grinning. “Let it ride. Let the internet have this.”
Across the concourse, a staff member tripped trying to hold back another wave of fans, and two security guards were taking selfies with Jonah, who was doing finger guns and yelling, “Don’t do drugs, kids! Unless you’re Gabriel!”
Back at the main table, Gabriel had curled up under the tablecloth and was quietly mumbling about the greatness of stroopwafels.
Cassie looked at Thane and said with a perfectly straight face, “I am never doing a sober meet and greet again.”
He stared at her.
“I’m kidding!” she added quickly. “I like my job. Mostly.”
Outside, the canal glowed with city lights, and the streets were humming with chatter and laughter—none louder than what was coming from the upper concourse of the arena.
It was supposed to be a normal meet and greet.
Instead, it became legend.