CHAPTER 10
MATTY
Crunch.
Crunch.
I flinched again, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.
“Can you not?” I hissed, glancing in the rearview mirror.
Jace looked up mid-bite, an Oreo halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“That. The chewing. The crunching. The aggressive consumption of cookies while I’m trying to plan a possible felony.”
He raised a brow, unfazed. “Stress-eating, Adler. You know it’s a coping mechanism for me.”
“Maybe your coping mechanism should be thinking of ways to steal a top-secret document from a highly secured college dean’s office.”
He stared at me like I was an idiot, then shrugged and took another slow, obnoxious bite.
Crunch.
“I’ll pass on that, thank you,” he said with a full mouth. “I’m the beauty of this operation. You’ve got Big Brains next to you.”
“It’s true,” Parker commented sleepily. Not using his brain at all at the moment since he’d just woken up from a nap.
This was too much.
“Give me those,” I hissed, reaching a hand out behind me.
“No, you’ll throw them out!” Jace said indignantly, frantically stuffing the cookies into his mouth so that his cheeks were bulging. “I will not give in!”
Crumbs sprayed my face, and I growled as I turned back to the road and away from the chocolate projectiles.
The crunching continued, and then suddenly an Oreo was thrust in my face.
“Here,” he said begrudgingly. “We all know how you feel about beauty sleep, and you’re not you when you’re hungry and tired. So eat a cookie.”
“I think there’s a commercial that talks about that,” Parker mused as I snatched the cookie from Jace’s hand.
I did, in fact, feel much better the second I had it in my mouth.
Not as good as if I had her in my mouth, though.
I’d lost it.
I stopped my car about half a mile from the gates, the engine humming as I shifted into park. The headlights cut through the fog just enough to show the looming iron archway ahead, RUTHERFORD COLLEGE spelled across the top in perfect lettering.
I stared out the windshield for a long moment, taking in the view beyond it, the sprawl of the campus, lit like a damn postcard.
A massive green stretched out at its center, crisscrossed with pale concrete paths that glowed under the lamps.
The buildings surrounding the lawn looked like someone had stolen them straight from Ancient Rome—white marble, perfect columns, gold accents gleaming even in the dark.
Jace let out a low whistle from the back seat, Oreo dust still on his shirt. “Fancy. Is this where the rich kids sacrifice people?”
“Feels about right,” I muttered.
Parker stirred in the passenger seat, stretching like his nap had been the most restful hours of his life. His hair was a mess, his voice rough. “That was a quick drive,” he commented.
Jace popped his head between the seats. “You’re kidding, right? You slept the entire drive. I had to listen to Matty’s murder playlist and contemplate death.”
“I focus better rested,” Parker said, deadpan, then leaned forward, squinting through the windshield. “Alright. Here’s the plan.”
Both of us turned to stare at him.
“‘Plan?’” I repeated. “You’ve been unconscious for three hours. How the hell do you have a plan?”
He ignored me, pointing toward the marble buildings.
“That central green? It’s probably where the main administrative offices are.
That will be where the dean’s office is.
If Dean Harrington’s a Sphinx member, then the dossier’s in there.
No way a guy like that wouldn’t keep it close.
Power-hungry assholes love holding proof they’re important. ”
“Why wouldn’t he just keep it at his house?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed. I was a football player for fuck’s sake, not a wannabe felon.
Parker didn’t even blink. “Because his house can be easily broken into. His office? That’s protected by university security and card readers…and the kind of ego that thinks no one’s stupid enough to try.”
Jace blinked. “Did you—did you just Sherlock that in ten seconds flat?”
Parker shrugged, already reaching for the duffel bag at his feet. “I pay attention. Plus, Rutherford’s campus layout’s online. I looked it up before we left.”
I gaped. “Before we left? As in the five seconds before you fell asleep?”
He gave me that infuriatingly calm grin. “Preparation, Adler. Try it sometime.”
Jace snorted. “I’m sorry, but you snored through a Whataburger run and two gas station stops. Don’t act like you’re some tactical genius.”
Parker ignored him, checking his watch. “We’ve got about four hours before sunrise. We’ll jog to campus, hop the east fence, cross the quad, and hit the admin building. Third floor, corner office.”
I sighed. “Quick, quiet, no improvising.”
Parker gave me a look and then nodded at Jace, who was crunching again. “You realize who you just said that to?”
“Yeah. I realized it was a mistake as soon as the words came out of my mouth.”
Jace opened his door. “Improvisation is how legends are made.”
“It’s also how idiots get arrested,” I grumbled.
“Tomato, tomahto.”
I shoved my door open, the night air biting against my skin as I stepped out. Gravel crunched under my sneakers. Behind me, Jace pulled his hood over his head, tucking his blonde hair inside like he was going undercover.
“I’m too recognizable with these flowing locks,” he announced to no one in particular.
“Yeah,” I said, locking the car. “Every security camera’s gonna stop dead when it sees Rapunzel breaking and entering.”
Parker snorted as he slung the small duffel over his shoulder and started down the dirt shoulder toward the trees lining the road. “Let’s move.”
Jace fell into step beside me as we started jogging, the cold biting through the silence.
After a few minutes, he puffed out a breath. “So, I did come up with something helpful for this…fun little adventure.”
Parker glanced back at him over his shoulder, somehow not tripping on the tree roots snaking out of the sidewalk. “And what would that be, Thatcher?”
“Code words,” Jace announced proudly.
I groaned loud enough to startle a bird out of a nearby tree. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
He grinned, undeterred. “If things go south, say, ‘Hurt.’ That means run. If you need a distraction, say, ‘Fix You.’ And if we’re totally screwed—like, cops, alarms, divine punishment—say, ‘Creep.’”
Parker frowned. “Those are all names of depressing songs.”
“Exactly,” Jace said. “Inspired by Matty’s ‘I Hate My Life’ playlist from the drive. You missed the show since you were drooling on yourself in the passenger seat.”
I shot him a look. “You’re not funny.”
“Maybe not,” he said, jogging backward with a grin. “But when this ends with us in handcuffs, my mugshot is definitely going to go viral.”
Parker snorted like he’d never heard something more ridiculous, and Jace laughed, the sound echoing through the empty street.
The marble columns of Rutherford glowed faintly in the distance.
My lungs burned, my nerves buzzed, and somewhere in the back of my head, a tiny voice kept whispering that this was a terrible idea.
But when Jace threw me a wink over his shoulder, humming the Mission: Impossible theme while he ran, I couldn’t help it. I picked up the pace.
Cold air slapped me in the face. The night smelled like damp grass. Somewhere far off, a train horn wailed, long and judgmental.
The wrought iron fence rose ahead, black and shiny under the moon. A camera perched above the gate blinked lazily, sweeping the area in slow arcs.
Parker crouched low, his eyes tracking the movement. “Fifteen-second rotation. We go on three.”
I blinked. “You counted?”
He didn’t look up. “Twice. The guard in the booth checks his phone between passes, too. He’s scrolling Instagram.”
Jace and I stared at him.
“How the hell do you know that?” Jace whispered.
Parker finally glanced over his shoulder, expression unreadable. “I pay attention.”
Jace leaned toward me, muttering, “I’m starting to think he’s not actually human.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, still watching Parker. “Either that or he’s got Google Maps implanted in his brain.”
The camera turned. “Go!”
We climbed. The iron was slick with dew, and freezing against my palms.
Halfway up, Jace grunted behind me, muttering a string of curses that could’ve peeled paint.
“Shit! I’m stuck!”
I looked down. His hoodie had caught on one of the top spikes, the fabric twisted tight like it had declared war on him. He tried yanking it free, but the motion only made it worse.
“Dude,” I hissed. “Just take it off.”
“In what world is stripping mid-felony a good idea?” he whisper-yelled, still flailing.
Parker sighed and then reached up, grabbed a handful of Jace’s hoodie, and yanked. The fabric tore loose with a rip loud enough to make my stomach clench. Both of them tumbled over the top, hitting the ground on the other side in a graceless heap of limbs and swearing.
“Graceful,” I muttered, dropping down beside them and landing in a crouch. My knees protested the impact.
“I’m built for highlight reels, not stealth,” Jace snapped, standing up and brushing himself off.
“You’re built for hospital bills,” Parker said flatly, shoving the duffel back over his shoulder.
Jace scowled. “Love the support, guys.”
“Shut up,” Parker said. “We’re exposed.”
We crouched low. The quad stretched out like a movie set—manicured lawns, marble benches, a fountain so fancy it probably had an endowment.
“Even their grass smells rich,” Jace whispered.
“That’s called fertilizer,” Parker said, his eyes scanning the walkways.
We crept forward, keeping to the shadows, our shoes sinking into damp grass. Halfway across, a motion light flared to life, flooding the space in harsh white.
We froze, every muscle locking tight.
“Don’t move,” Parker hissed.
Jace tilted his head slightly toward me. “It’s a light, not a sniper,” he whispered.
“Do you want to test that theory?” Parker shot back.