Ivy Wolfe Janice Griffith Link

Ivy laughed—a real laugh, raw and relieved. “So we keep the pendant?”

“If it’s cursed, it follows the holder.” Janice slipped the chain over her own head. The shadows above them paused. Turned. Slithered toward her instead.

Ivy Wolfe and Janice Griffith had been partners in crime for exactly three heists, two getaways, and one very unfortunate incident involving a startled cat and a laser grid. They were the best kind of thieves: the ones who stole from people who deserved it. ivy wolfe janice griffith

Ivy extended her hand. Janice took it.

Ivy hesitated one second—then ran. Because that was their rule. Never get caught together. One always escapes. Ivy laughed—a real laugh, raw and relieved

“You’re alive,” Ivy breathed.

The museum’s security was a joke. The real obstacle was the other attendees: billionaires in masks, dripping with real diamonds and fake smiles. Ivy worked the room, charming a tech CEO out of his keycard. Janice disabled the west wing’s pressure sensors by spilling champagne “accidentally” on the control panel. Turned

Forty minutes later, Ivy circled back through the sewers. She found Janice sitting on a crate, pendant still around her neck, shadows milling confusedly ten feet away like dogs who’d lost a scent.