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“Right,” I say. “And who the hell are these men?”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he says, “Not everyone is worthy to be part of this organization. Tonight, you’ll prove whether you are.”

Finn raises a hand, smirking. “Uh, and what happens if we’re not?”

“Then you’re out,” Red Mask says simply.

“Out of what, though?” I press.

“You’ll find out,” Red Mask says.

I glance at Logan, who just shrugs. Finn looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Fine,” I say. “What do we have to do?”

Red Mask gestures to a table behind him, where a stack of envelopes sits.

“Take one,” he says. “Inside, you’ll find your instructions.”

I hesitate, but curiosity wins. Walking forward, I grab an envelope and step back. Logan and Finn do the same.

“Well?” Red Mask says. “Open it.”

I tear mine open, pulling out a single piece of paper.

My stomach sinks as I read the words.

This night just keeps getting better.

I unfold the paper and skim the words. It’s short, but it’s enough to make me groan.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, glancing at Logan and Finn. “What’s yours say?”

Logan holds his paper up, squinting. “Steal the trophy from the glass case in the admin building.”

Finn lets out a low whistle. “Damn. They’re not messing around.”

“What about you?” I ask, nodding toward his paper.

“Same deal,” Finn says. “But they want me to snag the old championship banner from the gym.”

I look down at mine again. “They want me to steal the dean’s fucking gavel.”

Logan snorts. “Dude, how are you gonna get into his office? That place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

“I don’t know,” I snap. “But I guess I better figure it out.”

Red Mask clears his throat, cutting through our talking.

“You have three hours to bring back your item,” he says, his voice sharp and no-nonsense. “Failure means you’re out. Permanently.”

Black Mask steps forward, arms crossed. “This is amateur shit, so no excuses. This is just the first test. And if you get caught, that’s on you. The Reapers won’t bail you out.”

“Great pep talk,” I mutter under my breath.

The masked men ignore me, waving us toward the cars parked nearby. Logan and Finn shuffle after them, and I follow, already plotting how I’m supposed to pull this off.

The admin building is dark when I park the McLaren across the street. It’s close to two in the morning, and campus security is probably doing their usual half-assed patrol.