#Chapter 82: Parka Season

Aria The moment we walked into the store, I could tell that I didn’t belong here. The racks of hiking boots smelled like expensive new leather, the shelves of puffy coats practically reeked of cash, and the few other customers who were browsing looked like they were planning month-long expeditions in the Arctic. And then there was me. A human girl who had barely left the city in her entire life suddenly hiking off into werewolf territory. I glanced down at my light jacket and skinny jeans, feeling wildly out of place in a store like this. And one look at a nearby thermal top, which cost over a hundred dollars, told me all I needed to know. “Are you sure this is the right spot?” I asked Darren quietly, tugging on his sleeve. “This place looks… really expensive.” Darren didn’t even glance at the price tags as he strode through the store, his broad shoulders practically cutting a path through the racks like he owned the place. “You need proper gear,” he said