was used to being the target of supernatural horrors, organized crime, and the occasional divine retribution. It came with the job.

But what I wasn't used to?

Being the target of an ongoing, slow-burning psychological torment at the hands of Karrin Murphy and Molly Carpenter.

"Oh, come on, Harry," Molly said, propping her chin on her hand, blue eyes full of trouble. "You were so formative in my teenage years. You were my mentor. My guide. My… mysteriously unattainable older man."

Murphy smirked. "Unattainable? Please. Molly, you do magic. If you really wanted, you could just turn him into a puppy and carry him around in your purse."

Molly gasped in delight. "Oh my God. That would be adorable."

I pointed at both of them. "Absolutely not."

Molly reached over and patted my hand like I was already mid-transformation. "You're so grumpy when you're cornered."

"This is not cornered," I said. "This is me, calmly explaining that I'm being harassed in my own social circle."

Murphy sipped her coffee, eyes full of smug amusement. "Well, that's a dramatic way of putting it."

Molly sighed, dreamy. "Ah, young, innocent love."

Murphy snorted. "Innocent?"

"Okay, young and questionably legal in several states love," Molly amended, eyes dancing.

I groaned. "Oh, for the love of—"

This had been happening for months. What had started as casual teasing had turned into a game. A back-and-forth, a competition, like they were seeing who could make me sweat the hardest. And the worst part?

They were winning.

I could deal with monsters. I could deal with black magic.

I could not deal with this.

And then, today happened.

I walked into the Carpenter household expecting coffee and maybe a normal conversation.

What I got was Molly Carpenter, wearing a pregnancy bump.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Murphy, right beside me, went completely still.

The room became something else, something sharp-edged and wrong.

"Oh, Harry!" Molly cooed, hands resting on her stomach. "Guess what? It's a boy! We're naming him Dresden Jr."

My brain whited out.

And then, in the back of my mind, something dark and cold curled up and whispered.

What if it's real?

What if the Mantle did something?

What if Winter took a choice from you, from her, and you never even knew?

It was stupid. It was impossible.

But for one, awful second—

I believed it.

Something inside me locked up.

Murphy's hand twitched at her side.

Because she noticed.

Molly just grinned, oblivious to the fact that she had just stepped on a landmine. "You should've seen your face."

And Murphy?

Murphy laughed.

It wasn't a real laugh. It was the kind of laugh you gave when you were seconds away from either punching a wall or leaving the room.

"Oh wow," she said. "Nice one, Molls. You're hilarious."

Molly preened. "I do try."

And then another voice cut through the room, sharp and cool and final.

"Margaret Katherine Carpenter."

The silence that followed was total.

Molly froze.

Murphy exhaled.

I did not move.

Charity Carpenter stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, her expression perfectly neutral.

And somehow, that was worse.

Molly tried for bravado. "Mom, it's just—"

"No." Charity's voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. "It isn't."

Molly hesitated.

"You've had your fun," Charity said. "But you need to stop."

Molly actually looked confused. "Mom, it's just teasing."

Charity's gaze didn't waver. "Not anymore."

Murphy let out a breath, something in her posture shifting.

And then Charity said, quietly, "Did you even look at Harry?"

Molly blinked. "What?"

Charity's voice stayed even. "Did you look at him?"

And that was when Molly finally turned and saw me.

Not as a flustered, red-faced guy caught in an awkward joke.

Not as someone losing a dumb game of teasing.

But as someone who was white-knuckling the armrest of his chair, shoulders tight, jaw locked. Someone whose brain had gone somewhere else for a second.

And something in her changed, too.

"Oh," Molly said softly.

Murphy stilled.

And for once, no one said a damn thing.

Charity didn't break eye contact with her daughter.

"It stopped being a joke the moment you saw her reaction and didn't stop," she said, quiet but so, so clear.

Molly swallowed. "I… I didn't mean—"

"I know," Charity said. "But that doesn't matter, does it?"

Molly turned fully toward Murphy. And for the first time, I saw genuine regret.

"I got carried away," she said. "I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to—" She exhaled. "I didn't mean to make it real."

Murphy studied her for a long, long moment.

Then, finally—finally—she nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "I get that."

And the tension in the room broke.

Molly dismissed the illusion with a flick of her wrist, looking like she wanted to sink into the floorboards and vanish.

Murphy huffed. "Jesus, Molls. You could've at least given me a dramatic reveal instead of just popping it out of existence."

Molly snorted. "You're right. I should've made it explode."

And just like that, things felt… normal again.

I sighed, rubbing my face. "Okay. Well. This has been sufficiently horrifying."

Molly shot me a weak smirk. "No hard feelings?"

Murphy crossed her arms. "I didn't say that."

Molly winced. "…Yeah. Okay. Fair."

And somewhere, deep down, I realized—

I had barely survived something worse than a vampire attack.

Because monsters, I could handle.

Women?

Terrifying.