The General's Daughter: The Mission

He studied her.

Not the way men usually did—hungry, obvious, careless.

Ares watched her like she was encrypted code.

Sometimes his gaze burned—sharp, assessing, almost territorial. Other times it went distant, shadowed by something she couldn’t quite name.

And then there was Scarlet.

Lara hated that her mind even formed the name.

Ares had looked at Scarlet with history in his eyes, not curiosity or temptation, but with something that wasn’t entirely dead.

History.

The kind that came with late-night confessions, shared secrets, private jokes no one else would understand. The kind that didn’t disappear just because time passed.

Unfinished sentences lingered between them. Unspoken apologies. Something unresolved.

The ghost of his past.

People said first love never dies. Lara believed that. Because Alaric had been hers.

Not just her first love...but her only love.

Even now, centuries and lifetimes away, she could still remember the way her heartbeat would stop when he returned from war—armor dented, blood staining his cloak. She remembered pretending to be strong while her hands trembled as she cleaned his wounds.

And the day he died in her arms.....

The weight of him in her arms, the warmth leaving his body, the empire roaring outside, while her world collapsed in silence.

Lara’s throat tightened. She turned sharply on the bed, forcing the memory down.

She and Alaric had lived long and fully. A love carved from loyalty and fire. There were no regrets in that life.

Her thoughts slid back to Ares, unwelcome but persistent.

The way he looked at her was like she was a problem he wanted to solve. Or a fire he was debating whether to step into.

It wasn’t simple attraction. It was calculation wrapped in tension.

He confused her.

Was he Interested in her?

Because there were moments—small, electric moments—when the air between them thickened. When his voice dropped. When his body angled toward hers unconsciously.

But how come sometimes he kept his distance and acted in restraint?

A step back when she expected a step forward.

It irritated her more than outright pursuit ever could.

If he wanted her, he should act like it.

She turned onto her side, gripping the pillow tightly, frustration coiling low in her stomach.

Back in ancient times, men had been easier to read. Desire made them reckless. Ego made them obvious. If they wanted her, they declared it—boldly, foolishly, publicly.

But Ares...

He held himself back. Like he was fighting himself. Or calculating. Or testing her patience.

Her jaw tightened.

Was she just another strategic move? A distraction from Scarlet while he sorted out his feelings? A weapon to provoke jealousy?

Or worse—

Was she the rebound he didn’t even realize he was reaching for? The thought made her chest burn.

Lara let out a quiet, humorless scoff.

Since when did she care enough to lose sleep over a man?

She had bigger battles ahead.

She needed to uncover the truth of her bloodline. Expose whoever erased the Kromwels from history. Navigate corporate contracts, digital warfare, and whatever storm The Phantom would bring.

Her life was already a collision of past and present.

She could not afford a distraction.

And yet—

One man with unreadable eyes had her wide awake at two in the morning, staring at the ceiling while the city pulsed outside her window.

”Damn that man,” she muttered.

But the words rang hollow.

Because what unsettled her wasn’t him.

It was herself.

For the first time in a very long time—

She wasn’t entirely sure she was the one in control.

...

Lara still rose before the sun did.

No matter how restless the night had been, discipline was stitched into her bones. Queens didn’t oversleep. Hackers on contract didn’t get sloppy.

She pulled on a fitted charcoal sports suit, tied her hair back into a sleek ponytail, and stepped out into the cold blue hush of dawn.

The paved jogging trail curved around trimmed hedges, silent fountains, and towering trees that cast long shadows over the dewy grass.

The air was crisp, sharp enough to bite her lungs.

She started running.

Her pace steady, breath even, and mind focused.

The rhythm usually cleared her thoughts.

Then she saw him. Up ahead on the trail.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Moving with effortless precision.

Ares.

He wore a tight black compression shirt that clung to him like a second skin, outlining every line of muscle across his back and chest.

His shorts rode low on his hips, revealing powerful thighs that flexed with each stride. Controlled. Strong.

He ran like a predator conserving energy.

For a split second, the sight knocked the air from her lungs.

Long, strong legs.

The image collided with another memory—armor glinting under a battlefield sun, Alaric striding across training grounds, every movement lethal and graceful.

Her steps faltered.

Lara slowed without realizing it.

As if sensing her gaze, Ares glanced back.

Their eyes locked.

The world narrowed to that single thread of connection—morning mist between them, the faint sound of their shoes hitting pavement, the pulse in her ears.

He didn’t look surprised to see her. He slowed. Then stopped, and waited.

She resumed her pace, catching up, refusing to let him see that he’d disrupted her rhythm.

When she drew level, he fell into step beside her without a word.

Their strides synchronized naturally.

”You look like you haven’t slept well,” he said after a moment, his voice calm, smooth, not even slightly winded. ”And yet here you are jogging. Don’t you care about your health?”

There was no mockery in his tone.

Just observation.

Which somehow felt more intimate.

Lara kept her eyes forward. ”It’s precisely because I care about my health that I’m doing this.”

He glanced at her, one brow lifting slightly.

”Running on three hours of sleep isn’t exactly healthy.”

”And prying into my sleep schedule isn’t exactly your concern.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

”You looked distracted yesterday,” he said. ”And now you look exhausted.”

She shot him a sideways glance. ”You’ve been studying me that closely?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

That silence again.

Instead, he picked up the pace slightly, forcing her to adjust or fall behind. A challenge.

Her competitive streak flared instantly.

She matched him.

Their breathing grew heavier, but neither of them broke form. The early sun began cresting over the trees, casting gold across his face, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw and the focus in his eyes.

For a moment, it felt less like a morning jog—

And more like a silent battle.

”You don’t have to carry everything alone,” he said suddenly, voice lower now, closer.

Her chest tightened.

”I don’t,” she shot back.

That made him look at her fully.

They ran in silence after that, side by side, the space between their arms barely an inch apart.

Close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.

Lara focused on the path ahead.

She would not let a man—any man—disrupt her balance.

But as the sun climbed higher and their shadows stretched long behind them, one truth pressed against her resolve:

Running beside Ares felt dangerously natural.

And that scared her more than exhaustion ever could.