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The phone vibrates again moments later.

“Fuck.”

I ease it from my pocket and glance at the screen. Timur.

I answer quietly. “What?”

“You sound distracted.”

I look down at Eloise. “I’m holding my daughter.”

“Well, that makes sense then.”

If there’s anything Timur would understand, would be unable to argue against, it’s that. Already his tone is softening.

“How bad is it?” I ask.

There’s a pause. “Not bad. I just wanted to make sure you were actually aware that things are moving.”

“I’m aware.”

“You’re not really, though. You didn’t give Ariadna an answer yesterday, and everything is on hold until you do. She needs your decision, not mine.”

I sigh. “I’ll acknowledge her message now and review it before our call tomorrow. Nine. She’ll have an answer then.”

“Okay,” Timur sighs, seeming to be fine with the compromise. There’s a comfortable moment of silence before he asks: “The wedding is in two months. Are you and Matty ready? Do you have plans for what’s happening with the business?”

“I’ve handled it.”

“No. You’ve delegated it.”

I look at my sleeping baby again. “She needs me.”

“I know.” Timur’s voice softens. “But I need you too.”

That gets my attention. We’ve never spoken to one another like this before. We’re brothers, but always in work, always in the context of hard days and impossible decisions. These days it feels more like we are a family.

“I’m handling more now,” he continues. “The leases. The building schedules. Keeping the ordinary business moving while you’re here. I can do that, Vasily. But I need decisions from you when they’re yours to make.”

Guilt twists through me. It’s been a relief not to have to think about everything at once; not to get blood on my knuckles in the Workshop, or help bury the bodies. Art and Ariadna handle that side with me. Timur never wanted it, and being useful doesn’t mean he should inherit it.

“You’ll get them,” I murmur. “The legitimate business stays yours. I’m still Pakhan. You don’t have to become me.”

“I know.”

Silence stretches between us. Then Timur laughs quietly.

“You really are distracted. Can’t seem to catch you at a good time.”

I glance down at my daughter’s sleeping face. “Yeah.”

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long are you going to stare at her like she’s the only thing in the world?” There’s a hint of humor in his voice, teasing. “I remember when we brought Harper home. I slept on the nursery floor for the first week just to make sure she was still breathing.”

I smile. “Then you get it. She is the only thing in the world.”