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 secondsbefore 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.
