The skyline of Boston shimmered in the windshield as the van rolled east on I-90, the buildings like jagged silhouettes against a pale orange sunset. The Atlantic wasn’t visible yet, but Gabriel could smell the salt air — feel it. Like a sixth sense calling him home.

He was practically bouncing in the front passenger seat, tail slapping the dashboard every few seconds.

“We’re almost there,” he said for the fifth time in thirty minutes.

Thane smiled faintly behind the wheel. “So I’ve heard.”

“This is it,” Gabriel murmured, staring ahead like he was watching a dream come to life. “TD Garden. I used to sit way up in the nosebleeds and swear I’d stand on that stage one day. Every show I ever saw there? I took notes.”

Cassie leaned forward from the middle row, grinning. “So you’re saying this is your revenge arc?”

“Oh, this is way beyond revenge,” Gabriel said, his voice practically glowing. “This is my victory lap.”

They passed Fenway. Then North End. Then a familiar curve on Storrow Drive made Gabriel sit bolt upright.

“Okay, okay! First detour. I’m playing tour guide. Left at the lights!”

Thane raised a brow but turned.

Over the next hour, the van hit every meaningful landmark in Gabriel’s memory:

  • His high school, still covered in the same busted banners.
  • The music shop where he bought his first bass.
  • The park where he played acoustic sets in college just to get seen.
  • And finally, the blocky brick building of his childhood home, wedged into a quiet neighborhood of white siding and overgrown sidewalks.

He grew quiet there. Just for a second.

“I used to stare out that upstairs window and imagine what it’d be like to leave this place,” he said softly. “Now I get to come back… headlining.”

Thane reached over and took his paw, gently squeezing. “You earned every bit of this.”

Gabriel looked back at him with those wild blue eyes, then grinned — full fang, full joy.

“Damn right I did.”