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Not good enough. Not for her.

"Revise approach plan. Primary team through maintenance corridor with secondary distraction at main entrance. Focus on lower level extraction rather than comprehensive facility clearance."

"Higher risk profile." Anton's assessment comes without judgment. "Narrows extraction corridor with limited fallback options if primary approach is compromised."

"Acceptable parameters." My decision based on personal imperative rather than tactical optimization. "We get her out. Everything else is secondary."

The strike team moves with synchronicity as the countdown reaches its final seconds. Specialized charges are positioned at structural weak points. Breach teams are in formation.

"Execute."

The world erupts into controlled chaos as simultaneous explosions breach three access points. Strike teams flow through smoke and debris, movement choreographed flawlessly. My body responds automatically, muscle memory from years of special forces training guiding each step, each shot, each movement through an environment suddenly transformed into a combat zone.

"East corridor secured." Anton's voice cuts through the noise. "Eight hostiles neutralized. Proceeding to secondary junction with minimal resistance."

Minimal resistance. The assessment triggers alarm—this is a setup. Markov's security should present a much greater challenge.

"Fall back!" The command emerges with urgent authority born from my sudden realization. "Primary approach compromised. It’s a trap."

Too late. The corridor ahead erupts with automatic fire as hidden security positions activate precisely as each advancing team reaches a predetermined kill zone. Three of my men fall immediately as our carefully planned approach transforms into a desperate firefight in confined space with limited cover.

"Containment teams activate secondary protocols!" My mind shifts to alternate approaches even as my body responds to immediate threat. "Breach points seven and nine for diversionary pressure. Medical team to rally point Charlie for casualty extraction."

The facility transforms into a war zone as Markov's security engages with coordination that confirms they have been planning this for far too long. Their assault is not just the chaos of reaction but is a carefully orchestrated attack designed with specific knowledge of our plans.

"Viktor!" Nikolai's voice breaks through communication channel. "West corridor shows structural weakness on thermal imaging. Possible maintenance shaft beyond defensive positioning."

The information creates immediate opportunity. "Confirm coordinates and redirect strike team Bravo to western junction. Breach on my command with specialized charges at structural weak point."

My body moves through smoke and gunfire, each shot finding its target. Markov's security falls beneath our coordinated counter-assault, their bait and switch no match for my strike team's specialized capabilities.

Yet resistance stiffens as we penetrate deeper into the facility, indicating layered defense designed to slow our approach toward the central structure where Anastasia remains captive. Time works against us with each delayed advance, each obstacle standing in our way.

"Heat signature movement on sublevel three." Anton's update creates renewed urgency. "Three figures approaching central security room. Pattern suggests prisoner transport rather than defensive positioning."

Anastasia. Being moved deeper into the facility as outer defenses delay our approach. The realization triggers a shift in my priority to an accelerated penetration regardless of its increased risk profile.

"Strike team Delta, converge on sublevel access point immediately. Breach protocols authorized regardless of risk."

"Viktor, that's a suicide run." Anton's objection is objective rather than based on personal concern. "Defensive concentration indicates prepared kill zone with minimal cover and limited extraction options if compromised."

"I'm going in." Sweat beads on my brow. I’ll do anything to bring my Anastasia out alive. "Primary objective is extraction regardless of tactical cost. Everything else is secondary."

Movement through the facility accelerates as my focus narrows to its single purpose despite the chaotic environment and coordinated resistance. Each corridor, each security checkpoint, each defensive position is cleared.

The sublevel access point appears through a smoke-filled corridor, a heavy security door designed to prevent exactly the breach we're launching. The breach team takes cover as the detonation sequence initiates.

The explosion rocks the facility’s foundation, the security door disintegrating beneath concentrated force. Through smoke and debris, strike team advances into the darkness beyond.

And there she is.

Anastasia. Standing amid three fallen security personnel, bloody maintenance tool still clutched in her hand. Protective tactical gear stripped from an unconscious guard covering her designer dress now torn during evident struggle. Eyes wild with a combination of fear and fierce determination that transcends her civilized veneer to reveal the predator beneath.

"You're late," she says, voice remarkably steady despite the chaos surrounding us. "Father—” she pauses then says coldly, “Markov moved to a secure room on bottom level. Eight guards, specialized security, limited access points."

The information is delivered with calm detachment despite circumstances that would break lesser individuals. The Bratva princess has disappeared completely, replaced by a combat-capable woman whose abilities I've clearly underestimated.

"Are you hurt?" The question emerges rough, rushed.