CHAPTER NINE
“Can you really call this a campsite?” Hunter asked as they got out of their car and surveyed the property around them.
It wasn’t camping as Rowe knew it. He could run into the woods and survive for days on nothing but his wits and his claws. But before he’d become a werewolf, he might have had a tent and some basic supplies.
But camping wasn’t supposed to involve cabins.
There were rows of tiny houses along a gravel path that led to a large recreation building where the road looped back around to allow a driver to easily turn around.
“I think it’s called glamping,” Hunter offered. She popped the trunk and pulled their bags out.
Just because they could survive in the woods with nothing didn’t mean they’d come to a job unprepared. “That word sounds fake. You can probably
