The General's Daughter: The Mission

”Alaric...?”

Lara’s lips barely moved when she said the name. It slipped out of her like a sigh, fragile and unguarded.

Her lashes fluttered open slowly, confusion clouding her gaze as morning light spilled across the massive bed.

”You called him in your sleep,” Ares said quietly.

His voice was controlled. Too controlled.

Lara pushed herself upright, the silk sheets sliding down her shoulders. The thin fabric of her nightgown caught the early sunlight, outlining her form in soft gold.

”I did?” she murmured, rubbing her temple. ”I... can’t remember. It must’ve been a random dream. The kind that disappears once the sun rises.”

She sounded calm. Reasonable.

Ares wanted to accept that explanation.

He should have. But he couldn’t.

Because when she had whispered that name, her tone hadn’t been random. It hadn’t been careless.

It had been tender.

Devoted.

The kind of voice a woman only used for the man she loved.

Something tightened sharply in his chest.

He shifted his gaze to Shay, who was still asleep in the middle of the king-sized bed, breathing softly, innocent and unaware of the storm brewing inches away.

He, too, had slept deeply.

Strangely deeply.

Perhaps it was exhaustion that had finally claimed him. The past few days had been relentless. His body might have simply shut down.

But that wasn’t all he remembered.

He remembered warmth.

The faint, calming scent that lingered on Lara — something clean, something almost addictive. He remembered reaching out in the dark, thinking he was holding Shay’s tiny hand, only to realize later it was Lara’s.

Her fingers had been slender. Soft.

She hadn’t pulled away.

And he had slept better than he had in years.

His gaze lifted again.

In the full glow of morning, he saw her clearly now.

The thin nightgown clung to her curves in a way that felt almost unfair. The light traced the slope of her shoulder, the delicate line of her collarbone, the narrowness of her waist, the subtle rise and fall of her breathing.

He swallowed.

Dangerous.

This was dangerous.

Ares looked away abruptly, jaw tightening.

He wasn’t a teenager. He wasn’t a man ruled by impulse.

But the image of her whispering another man’s name — that gentle, loving tone — collided violently with the sight of her standing there in his house, in his daughter’s room.

Who is Alaric?

The question burned.

Was he someone from her past?

A first love?

A fiancé?

The thought scraped against something raw and unfamiliar inside him.

Possessiveness.

How Ridiculous. He had no claim over her.

And yet—

He stood up, running a hand through his hair, forcing his voice back into calm authority.

”Stay with Shay,” he said. ”I’ll take a shower.”

His tone was clipped.

Businesslike and safe.

”After breakfast, we’ll take her to the psychiatrist at Hope Hospital. Jack already made arrangements.”

He walked toward the door, but paused for half a second.

Without turning back, he added, quieter this time—

”Lara.”

She looked up.

”If that name means something... don’t underestimate it.”

There was weight in his voice now. Not accusation. Not yet.

But warning.

Because he wasn’t sure what unsettled him more—

The fact that she had whispered another man’s name with such affection.

Or the fact that, for the first time in years, he cared.

...

A black Bentley glided out of the Zuvel mansion gates just as the city was beginning to wake.

Morning traffic hummed. Vendors were setting up stalls. The world moved normally.

Inside the car, the atmosphere was anything but normal.

Shay sat in the back seat beside Lara, her small head resting against Lara’s arm. She was quiet today. Too quiet.

Ares beside her, tablet resting on his knee, though he hadn’t read a single word on the screen.

He could feel her presence.

Even without looking.

The faint fragrance she carried lingered in the enclosed space, subtle but persistent. It stirred memories of the night before — warmth in the dark, the brush of fingers, the way she had whispered that name.

Alaric.

He finally spoke.

”Is he still alive?”

Lara blinked. ”What?”

”That man.” His eyes lifted slowly, steady and sharp. ”Alaric.”

The car seemed to grow smaller.

”I told you,” she replied evenly, smoothing Shay’s hair, ”I don’t remember. It is just a dream.”

”Or a memory you have forgotten.”

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

Lara’s fingers stilled for a fraction of a second.

Urban business circles had taught him something: people don’t lie with their mouths first. They lie with their pauses.

”I don’t know anyone by that name,” she said finally.

That was technically true. She didn’t know anyone in this life by that name.

But the dream...

The bed.

The emperor.

The warmth of that hand covering hers.

The way her heart had responded to that voice.

It hadn’t felt imaginary.

Ares leaned back slightly, studying her.

”When you said it,” he continued, ”you sounded like you loved him.”

There it was.

No anger. Just honesty.

And that honesty was far more dangerous.

Lara met his gaze this time.

The air between them shifted — no longer polite, no longer distant.

”People say things in their sleep all the time,” she replied. ”It doesn’t mean anything.”

”Not like that.”

His jaw tightened.

He didn’t know why he was pushing.

He didn’t have the right.

But the thought of another man occupying that kind of space in her heart made something primitive rise in him.

Possession. Territorial instinct.

Something he had never felt for any woman before.

Was he influenced by Shay calling her Mom? He also felt that Lara was Shay’s real mom.

Before he could press further, Shay stirred slightly, clutching Lara’s hand.

”Mommy...” she mumbled.

The tension snapped.

Lara immediately shifted her attention to the child, instinctive and protective.

Ares leaned back again, mask sliding back into place.

Hope Hospital came into view through the tinted windows.

But the conversation was far from over.

Because now—

He wasn’t just curious about Alaric.

He was competing with a ghost.