Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9DANY3Q980EZ1S39RP3HK

The neon glow of the party hall pulsed like a dying star, casting jagged shadows across the polished floor. Molly adjusted her gloves—too tight, but better than nothing—while Bill fiddled with the lock, his fingers dancing over the keys like a pianist playing a wrong note. A child’s laughter drifted through the open window, sharp and bright, mocking their stolen dreams. Molly’s stomach twisted. *Too many kids. Too many eyes.* She grabbed Bill’s wrist, her grip iron. "We’re not here to steal candy. We’re here to steal *theirs*." Bill exhaled through his nose, a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren’t for the way his eyes darted toward the door. "Then what’s the play? The presents are under the tree. The tree’s got a guard dog." Molly’s jaw clenched. "The guard dog’s got a *barking problem.*" She pulled a small, rusted key from her pocket—one she’d nicked from a janitor’s toolbox last week. "We slip in, steal the gifts, and *pretend* we’re the ones who left them under the tree. The parents will never know." Bill’s grin was all teeth. "And if they do?" She tossed him the key. "Then we’ll tell ‘em we were *supposed* to be there. That we got distracted by the *sparkle* of the wrapping paper." The door creaked open behind them.