The target sat glittering by the bouncy castle, a fortress of cardboard and curling ribbon. From their position behind the prize-winning zucchini patch, Molly surveyed the scene with professional disdain. The real security wasn’t the distracted parents grilling hot dogs; it was the horde of small, screaming sentinels, their faces smeared with a warpaint of chocolate and glee. They were unpredictable, dangerously fast, and fueled by pure, unadulterated sugar. A seismic tremor from the castle sent a shudder through the ground. Bill, beside her, adjusted the oversized canvas sack slung over his shoulder, making him look like a disheveled Santa who’d gotten lost. "Ready?" he whispered, nudging her with a bony elbow. "Give me a second," Molly hissed, swatting at a branch. "This shrubbery is incredibly itchy." He sighed, a long-suffering sound. "We have a window before the piñata." Molly nodded, her eyes fixed on the biggest prize, a box wrapped in unicorn paper that had to be at least three feet long. Extraction would be tricky, but the payoff—a living room filled with stolen loot—was worth the risk. She just hoped none of it was a drum set.