The General's Daughter: The Mission

Lanura was calling her back.

”You have to come back here, Scarlet,” her aunt’s voice echoed in her mind, sharp and unyielding. ”You already committed to that shoot. Your father will be disappointed if the schedule is delayed.”

Disappointed.

The word lingered, heavier than it should have been.

Because in their world, disappointment was never just that—it was pressure, expectation, consequence.

Her aunt’s words weren’t a request.

They were a summons.

An order wrapped in civility, backed by obligations Scarlet could no longer ignore—contracts signed, appearances promised, a reputation that demanded perfection at all times.

And this time...

She had nowhere left to hide.

She couldn’t refuse.

Her breathing steadied, but her eyes darkened, something dangerous settling behind them.

Slowly, deliberately, her gaze returned to Ares.

To the way he refused to let Lara go.

To the way his entire world seemed to narrow down to that one woman in his arms.

A faint smile touched Scarlet’s lips.

But there was no warmth in it.

Only promise.

Go ahead, she thought, her eyes gleaming with something almost unhinged. Hold her. Protect her. Treasure her.

For now.

If she made Ares loved her before, grovelled at her feet and wrapped around at her fingers, she could do that again.

Nothing could stop her.

She turned slightly, already knowing what she had to do, what she was willing to become.

If I can’t have him willingly...

The thought lingered—unfinished, but far more terrifying because of it.

Her smile deepened.

And somewhere in the shadows of her mind, a plan began to take shape.

...

Lara’s lashes fluttered again, slower this time, as though each movement weighed more than it should.

A voice reached her—low, familiar, grounding.

Ares.

She blinked, her vision gradually sharpening, and her gaze drifted upward to the ceiling above her.

It was plain and white.

Her brows drew together faintly.

There were no intricate carvings. No painted frescos stretching across the expanse like the ones she had grown used to seeing every morning.

For a moment, confusion settled in.

This isn’t Hevenfort...

A quiet realization followed, slipping into place with unsettling ease.

This... is Ares’ room.

Her lashes lowered, then lifted again—this time with a fragile, almost childlike innocence, as though she had simply woken from a dream she couldn’t quite piece together.

”Why am I here...?” she asked softly, her voice still weak, her eyes drifting from one face to another. ”And why is everyone... here?”

A scoff cut through the air.

Sharp. Unapologetic.

Scarlet.

”It’s because you fainted,” she said, her lips curling with thinly veiled disdain. ”You certainly have a talent for causing a scene—dragging everyone into your little drama.”

”Scarlet.”

Asher’s voice snapped through the room, low and edged with warning. It wasn’t loud—but it didn’t need to be.

The message was clear.

Scarlet’s expression tightened for the briefest moment before she looked away, swallowing whatever else she had been about to say. She knew better than to push too far—at least not here, not now.

Silence lingered for a beat.

Then Yannis stepped forward, his presence calm, composed—clinical.

”You fainted,” he explained, his tone steady, stripped of earlier curiosity. Now, he was simply a doctor addressing his patient. ”We couldn’t wake you. For a moment...” He paused, his gaze briefly sharpening. ”I thought you had slipped back into a coma.”

The word hung in the air.

Heavy.

Unsettling.

And in that stillness, Ares said nothing—yet his eyes never left Lara, as if watching for even the slightest sign that she might disappear again.

”Do you remember what happened last night?” Yannis asked, his voice measured, careful. ”What caused your fainting?”

Lara stilled.

For a fraction of a second, the world around her seemed to dim—voices fading, faces blurring—until there was only the echo of memory crashing back into her.

The photo.

That single image of a family.

The one Yannis himself had sent.

It rose unbidden in her mind, sharp and vivid, dragging with it a surge of emotions she had barely managed to contain—shock, disbelief... and something far more dangerous beneath.

Her fingers twitched against the sheets.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet Yannis’.

And held it.

For a heartbeat longer than necessary.

There was a shift in her eyes—subtle, almost imperceptible—but it was there. Not confusion. Not weakness.

Calculation.

Then, just as quickly, it vanished.

”It must be because I was tired from the trip to Isla,” she said, her voice soft, steady, as if nothing had happened at all. ”It was quite hot during the day.”

A simple explanation.

Too simple.

Yannis didn’t respond immediately.

He only looked at her.

His blue eyes—clear, piercing, and as cold as the depths of the ocean—searched her face with unsettling precision, as if peeling back layers, stripping away every word, every expression, until only truth remained.

Silence stretched between them, taut and suffocating.

”Is that all?” he asked at last, suspicion threading through his otherwise calm tone.

Lara didn’t hesitate.

She nodded.

Once.

But beneath the fragile composure she wore so effortlessly, something remained buried—

Something she had no intention of letting anyone uncover.

Yannis stood there, the very image of composure—shoulders relaxed, expression neutral, voice steady.

A doctor in complete control.

But beneath that calm exterior, his thoughts churned violently.

She’s back...

Not the fragile, disoriented woman from moments ago.

Not the one who woke with confusion clouding her eyes.

No.

This—this was the Lara he remembered.

The one who could bury her emotions so deep they became impossible to trace.

The one who could slip into a room, read every glance, every silence, every unspoken thought—and respond exactly as she wished to be seen.

Controlled. Calculative. Untouchable.

His gaze lingered on her, sharper now, more certain.

The photo did this.

He didn’t need confirmation. He could feel it.

Something in her had shifted the moment she saw it—something dangerous, something forgotten... until now.

And yet—

She refused to acknowledge it.

Refused to let him in.

A faint crease appeared between his brows before it smoothed out just as quickly.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Yannis exhaled slowly, then turned his head, his attention sweeping across the room—Ares, still too close, still watching Lara like she might vanish ... Asher, tense... Scarlet, silent but simmering... even Randell, observing everything with unsettling clarity.

Too many eyes. Too many variables. Too many things Lara could hide behind.

That wouldn’t do.

His gaze returned forward, calm once more, as if nothing had stirred within him at all.

”Can I have a private talk with my patient?” he asked, his tone polite, professional—

But carrying just enough weight to make it clear...

This wasn’t a request.