Molly adjusted her black ski mask, glaring at the colorful streamers flapping in the gentle breeze. To anyone else, the suburban backyard was a scene of innocent joy, but to her, it was a high-security fortress packed with high-value goods. The stakes had never been higher. "I have eyes on the prize," Bill whispered, clutching a large canvas sack to his chest. "But this feels wrong, Mol. Look at the bouncy castle." "Focus on the payout, Bill," Molly snapped, checking her reflection in a garden gnome. "We have a window during the candle lighting. That’s when the guards—the parents—will be distracted by Instagram." Bill sighed deeply, watching a toddler trip over a hedgehog. He adjusted his own mask, feeling ridiculous. "The security detail is terrifying. I saw a grandma knitting near the presents. She looks lethal." "Grandmas are slow," Molly insisted, crawling through the petunias. "Just grab the wrapped boxes and leave the bikes. We aren't greedy, just professional." "I’m going to hell for this," Bill grumbled, creeping toward the patio. "Lucifer is going to make me listen to 'Baby Shark' for eternity." "Hell is hot," Molly replied, reaching for the first gift bag. "But Barbies are expensive. Move in."