THE PLAN

ALEXEI

Twelve hours wasn't enough time.

Alexei stared at the thermal imagery on his tablet, the CIA facility glowing hot against the frozen Alaska landscape, and ran the numbers again. Same answer. They were fucked.

"Talk to me," Dimitri said. They were holed up in an abandoned hunting cabin two miles from the target. Cold. Exhausted. Running on caffeine and desperation.

"Facility is a hardened structure. Reinforced concrete. Steel doors. Biometric access at every checkpoint." Alexei zoomed in. "I count thirty-two heat signatures. Minimum. Could be more in shielded areas."

"Guards?"

"Most of them. Maybe eight scientists. Medical personnel." He pulled up another image. "This area here...basement level, west wing...that's where they're holding her."

"How do you know?" Anya asked. She'd been silent since they'd arrived. Processing. Planning. Her operator brain working overtime.

"Heat signature analysis. Single figure. Isolated. Hasn't moved in three hours." He looked at her. "Could be your sister. Could be bait."

"It's her." Anya's voice was certain. "They want me to see her. Want me to know exactly where she is. Makes me predictable."

Smart. Alexei had to admit, Eleanor was playing this perfectly. Bait on display. Timer counting down. Emotions running high. Everything designed to make them sloppy.

"So we don't do what they expect," Nikolai said. He was cleaning his rifle. Again. Nervous habit. "We don't go for the obvious entry point."

"Agreed." Alexei pulled up the facility blueprint, stolen by Anya's hacker contact, delivered ten minutes ago. "They'll expect us to breach here." He pointed to the main entrance. "Or here." The loading dock. "Both are heavily defended."

"What about the roof?" Dimitri asked.

"Worse. They have sentries. Thermals. Motion detectors. We'd be spotted before we touched down."

"Then how do we get in?" Anya's frustration was showing. The bond was pulling at her. Demanding she save her sister. Now.

Alexei zoomed in on one section. "Here.

Maintenance access. Underground tunnel connects to the main facility. Used for utilities. Power. Water."

"Maintenance tunnels will be monitored," Nikolai pointed out.

"Yes. But less than other entry points. It's designed to keep people out, not in." Alexei pulled up schematics. "We breach here. Move fast. Hit the holding cells before they can relocate the asset."

"Katya," Anya said quietly. "Her name is Katya. Not asset."

Right. Family. Alexei had to remember, this wasn't just a mission. This was personal.

"We breach the maintenance tunnel," he continued. "Move to the basement level. Locate Katya. Extract. Exit through..." He stopped. Stared at the blueprint. "Fuck."

"What?" Dimitri leaned over.

"There is no good exit. Every route takes us back through the main facility. Through security checkpoints. Through..."

"We fight our way out," Anya finished. "Kill anyone between us and freedom."

"That's thirty-plus hostiles. Even if we're perfect...even if every shot lands...we'll take casualties."

"Then we take casualties." She looked at him. Eyes hard. Determined. "My sister is in there. I'm not leaving without her."

Alexei respected that. Respected the way she'd thrown herself into the fire for family. Reminded him of Dimitri. Of the way his brother had always chosen loyalty over sense.

"Okay," he said. "Fighting retreat. We'll need covering fire. Suppression. Maybe demo charges to create chokepoints."

"I have C4," Anya said. "Enough to bring down a building."

"Perfect. We use shaped charges. Collapse sections behind us as we move. Slow them down. Force them into kill zones."

"How long until they can call in reinforcements?" Nikolai asked.

Alexei checked the intel. "Nearest military base is Elmendorf-Richardson. Forty minutes by helicopter. If we're fast, in and out in thirty minutes, we can be gone before they arrive."

"Thirty minutes." Dimitri looked at his brothers. At Anya. "We can do thirty minutes."

"There's another problem," Alexei said. He hated this part. Hated admitting weakness. "We're down operators. Four people against thirty-plus. Even with perfect tactics, the math doesn't work."

"So we get help," Anya said.

"From who? Your contacts are dead or scattered. Eleanor's network has everyone else spooked."

"Not everyone." Anya pulled out her phone. Started typing. "There's one person who owes me. Big. The kind of debt that can't be repaid. But I've never called it in."

"Who?" Dimitri asked.

"You don't want to know."

"Anya..."

"He's former Spetsnaz. Went freelance after the Soviet collapse. Now he runs a PMC in Alaska. Operates in the grey zone between legal and very illegal." She hit send on the message. "If anyone can get us backup in twelve hours, it's him."

Silence. Then her phone buzzed.

She read the message. Smiled. Cold. "He's in. He can have six operators at our position in eight hours. Armed. Trained. Ready to fuck up some CIA."

"Cost?" Alexei always asked about cost.

"I pulled his daughter out of Grozny during the second Chechen war. He said name my price." Anya looked at him. "This is my price."

Fair enough. Alexei made a note. Ten operators total. Better odds. Still not good, but survivable.

"What about the timeline?" Nikolai asked. "We have twelve hours until the procedure starts. If your PMC needs eight hours to arrive..."

"We have four hours to plan. To prep. To rest."

Anya's voice was steady. Professional. "Then we move. Hit them at dawn. Fast. Brutal. No mercy."

Alexei nodded. Started sketching the operation. Entry points. Rally points. Extraction routes. The choreography of violence he'd learned over thirty years in the Bratva.

"We split into two teams," he said. "Anya and Dimitri...breach team. You hit the maintenance tunnel. Move to the holding cells. Secure Katya."

"And us?" Nikolai asked.

"You and me...overwatch and support. We hold the exit. Provide covering fire. Make sure our extraction route stays open." He looked at Dimitri. "You good with that?"

"No. I want you with us. Inside."

"Someone needs to hold the door open, Dima. If Nikolai and I don't secure the exit, you'll be trapped. Fighting through thirty hostiles with no support."

Dimitri's jaw tightened. He didn't like it. But he understood it.

"Fine. But we stay on comms. Constant updates. If anything goes wrong..."

"We adapt." Alexei had done this dance before. Operations where everything went to shit. Where the plan survived thirty seconds. "We're good at adapting."

They spent the next two hours refining. Going over blueprints. Memorizing layouts. Planning for contingencies.

Alexei watched Anya work. Watched her shift from frightened sister to cold operator. The transformation was fascinating. Terrifying. She was good. Really good. The kind of good that came from years of black ops work.

"Question," he said during a lull. "When this is over. When we get Katya out. What then?"

Anya looked up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Eleanor doesn't stop. She's got government backing. Resources. She'll keep coming. Keep hunting." He held her gaze. "So what's the endgame?"

"We kill her."

"That's not an endgame. That's a temporary solution. Someone else takes her place. The network keeps operating. They come after us again."

"So what do you suggest?"

"We burn it all down." Alexei pulled up files. Intelligence the hacker had sent. "Eleanor's operation runs on black funding. Congressmen. Senators. People who benefit from a puppet criminal network. We expose them. Leak everything. Make it public."

"That's suicide," Nikolai said. "You go public with CIA black ops, they'll kill you. Slowly."

"Maybe. But they can't kill all of us. And they can't kill the internet." Alexei looked at Dimitri. "We leak everything. Every name. Every operation. Every dirty secret. Make it so toxic they have to shut it down."

"And then we disappear," Dimitri finished. "New identities. New lives. Somewhere Eleanor and her people can't reach."

"Exactly."

Anya was quiet. Processing. Then she nodded. "Okay. After we get Katya. After we survive. We burn it all."

"Good." Alexei closed the tablet. "Now everyone get some rest. We've got eight hours before the PMC arrives. Use it."

They tried. But Alexei couldn't sleep. Kept running scenarios. Kept finding problems.

Four hours into their rest period, his phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

He answered. "Yes?"

"Alexei Volkov." Eleanor's voice. Smug. Satisfied. "How's Alaska treating you?"

Fuck. She knew. Knew they were here. Knew they were coming.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"To warn you. The procedure? It doesn't start in eight hours. It starts now. Right now. We're prepping Katya for integration. Introducing the first round of hormones. In three hours, the process will be irreversible."

No. No no no...

"You're lying," he said.

"Am I? Check your thermal imaging. See if the medical personnel are moving. See if...." She laughed. "Oh wait. You can't see through our shielding. My mistake."

The line went dead.

Alexei was already moving. Pulling up the thermal scans. There, movement in the medical wing. More personnel than before. Activity that looked like...

Preparation.

"Dima!" he called. "Get up! We need to move now!"

Dimitri stumbled out, half-asleep. "What..."

"Eleanor moved the timeline. The procedure starts now. We have three hours before it's irreversible."

Anya appeared. White-faced. "Three hours?"

"Maybe less. She could be lying about the timing. Trying to make us sloppy."

"Or she's telling the truth." Anya grabbed her gear. "Either way, we can't wait for the PMC. We go now."

"Four people against thirty-plus," Nikolai said. He looked grim. "Those odds suck."

"Then we make them better." Anya checked her weapons. "We go loud. Hit them hard. Make them think we're a full team. Use the chaos."

Alexei ran the numbers. Fast. The plan was garbage. They'd probably die. But they'd definitely die if they waited.

"Fuck it," he said. "We go now."

They geared up. Sixty seconds. Weapons check. Comms check. Demo charges packed.

Then they moved. Out of the cabin. Through the snow. Toward the facility that glowed in the darkness like a malevolent star.

Two miles cross-country. Running. Alexei felt his age. Felt the years of violence catching up. But he pushed through. Because Dimitri needed him. Because Anya's sister needed them.

Because this was what pack meant. You fought together. You died together.

The facility loomed. Large. Ominous. Lights bright against the darkness.

They stacked up at the maintenance entrance. Anya placed the demo charge. Everyone backed up.

"Breaching in three," she said. "Two. One."

The charge blew. Not loud, shaped to direct force inward, but effective. The door buckled. Collapsed.

They went in fast. Anya first. Dimitri behind her. Alexei and Nikolai following.

Inside, alarms. Immediate. Loud. The whole facility knew they were here.

"So much for stealth," Nikolai muttered.

"Doesn't matter." Anya was running. Following the blueprint in her head. "We go fast. Get to Katya before they can move her."

They hit the first checkpoint. Three guards.

Surprised. Unprepared.

Alexei dropped two. Nikolai got the third.

"Keep moving!"

Second checkpoint. More guards. These were ready. Firing.

Alexei returned fire. Covered Anya and Dimitri as they pushed forward. Felt rounds impact his vest. Body armor held. Barely.

They fought through. Room by room. Corridor by corridor. Every step paid in blood.

Then Anya's phone buzzed.

She checked it. Went white.

"What?" Dimitri demanded.

She showed him. New message. New timeline.

PROCEDURE ACCELERATED. YOU HAVE 90 MINUTES BEFORE INTEGRATION IS IRREVERSIBLE. BETTER HURRY, AGENT VOLKOV.

Ninety minutes.

They weren't going to make it.