The studio was still.
A tension hung in the air — not the nervous kind, but the focused kind. The kind that came right before something honest was about to happen.
Darren Maxwell looked into the camera, then down at the notes in front of him. He didn’t read from the teleprompter. He didn’t fake the smile. He looked directly at the pack, and then out into the homes of every Oklahoman watching. And he spoke.
“I want to start today’s interview with something that should’ve been said a long time ago,” he began, voice steady, warm, and unapologetically human. “To Feral Eclipse… to your fans… and to every one of you sitting here — I’m sorry.”
He turned slightly toward the couch where the full pack was seated — Thane, Gabriel, Mark, Cassie, Rico, Maya, Jonah, Emily, and Diesel. The whole family.
“I watched the previous interview live, and I saw exactly what everyone else did. It wasn’t journalism. It wasn’t fair. And frankly, it didn’t reflect who we are at KFOR or what this team stands for. That’s on me. And I want to thank you for giving us the opportunity to do this properly.”
Thane gave a slow nod, but his ice-blue eyes didn’t blink. “We’re here because you owned it. Most wouldn’t.”
Gabriel, sitting beside him, was quiet. He was dressed a little more low-key than usual, but his claws still fidgeted with the hem of his jeans — clearly a little nervous. He gave Darren a small smile and said, “Okay. Hit us with the hard stuff.”
And Darren did.
But not like before.
He asked tough questions — about the airport incident, about social media, about fame, pressure, werewolves in the public eye, even about the emotional toll of being under such intense scrutiny.
But there were no tricks. No baited traps. He let the band answer in full.
Gabriel explained that yes, he knew it looked bad, but the cockpit moment was innocent. He got excited. He wanted a cool photo. He didn’t think about the consequences. He learned from it — and he was still learning.
Cassie spoke powerfully about how the band’s humanity — and wolfishness — was what made them real.
Jonah admitted he had cried in the airport because it was terrifying.
Maya flatly told the world that anyone who thought the pack was dangerous “should try arguing with Gabriel about pizza toppings at 3am if they want to see chaos.”
Mark, ever the quiet one, simply said: “We’re not monsters. We’re just tired. And doing our best.”
Emily shyly told the camera how proud she was to be part of this family. How she used to be just a fan with a dream… and now she was living it.
And Diesel leaned into the mic with a smirk and said, “Best damn passengers I’ve ever driven. Even if they howl in their sleep.”
Darren nodded through it all, genuinely engaged. No interruptions. No redirects. Just listening.
Finally, he turned to Thane.
“And what do you want people to know, Thane?”
Thane leaned forward. His claws rested on his knees. His voice was calm but firm.
“That we’re not just a story. We’re not just gossip fodder or some TikTok trend. We’re a family. We’ve been through hell together. We’ve made mistakes. We’ve grown. We love fiercely. We protect each other. And we give a damn about the people who believe in us.”
The silence afterward was heavy. But it wasn’t awkward. It was respected.
Darren closed his notepad.
“I think that’s exactly what Oklahoma needed to hear.”
Just as they began to wrap, a quiet commotion near the studio door drew everyone’s attention. A small figure — a girl of about nine — was hesitantly making her way toward the set, guided gently by the station owner himself.
She clutched a piece of folded construction paper to her chest.
Darren blinked in surprise. “Ah… this is Mia. She’s my boss’s daughter. Apparently, she has something she really wanted to do.”
Mia looked around the room, nervous but determined. Her eyes scanned the pack, wide with wonder at seeing them up close.
Then she walked right up to Mark.
He blinked, startled, looking down at the child in front of him. She held out the card with both hands.
“I made this for you,” she said, quietly. “Because you looked like you needed a smile today.”
Mark took the card, his claws barely brushing her tiny hands. He opened it slowly.
Inside was a crayon drawing of him with the words “Thank you for being brave.”
His eyes blinked fast. Then he nodded, folding the card carefully.
“…I did,” he said hoarsely.
The entire set fell silent for a beat.
Then Darren stood, offering a hand. “I think we can end the interview there.”
And when the broadcast cut, it was to the soft sound of cheers echoing from the street outside. Fans watching through phones. People applauding through the studio glass.
And nine hearts, a little fuller than they’d been an hour ago.