The General's Daughter: The Mission

At General Leonard’s quarters, the tension in the room felt deliberate—like it had been placed there by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

That someone was Liam.

He stood near the window, unmoving, a rolled document clenched in his hand with quiet intensity. He hadn’t sat down once.

Lucas noticed.

That alone made him uneasy.

”This had better be urgent,” Lucas said, pacing instead of sitting. His voice carried the fatigue of someone who had spent the entire day saving lives. ”I left three patients mid-treatment. Heat stroke doesn’t wait for family meetings.”

Lucas clicked his tongue, irritation creeping in. ”You dragged me out without context. That’s not like you.”

”It’s not,” Logan cut in lazily from the couch, one arm thrown over his face like a fallen noble. ”Which means either we’re all about to die... or Liam finally snapped under pressure.”

Logan peeked from under his arm, eyes gleaming.

”And frankly,” Logan continued, sitting up and pointing accusingly at his own head, ”if anyone has a reason to snap, it’s me. Look at this tragedy.”

Lucas snorted.

”At least you still look human,” Logan continued dramatically, slumping deeper into the couch. His tone carried a mix of grievance and theatrical despair. ”Look at me.”

His fingers pointed at himself, specifically at his head.

His hair was indeed a mess—dusty, stiff, and sticking in every direction.

”I’ve been out there all day while you two enjoyed shade and purpose. If this meeting isn’t life-threatening, I demand compensation.”

Lucas chuckled. ”You want compensation for bad hair?”

”I want recognition for suffering.”

”You cause most of your suffering.”

”Details.”

Through all of his brothers’ banter, Liam remained still.

That’s when Logan’s expression shifted.

His eyes dropped and locked on the paper in Liam’s hand.

Ah.

There it is.

Logan leaned forward slowly, elbows on his knees now, voice lowering into something more precise.

”You’ve been holding that thing like it might explode,” he said. ”So either it’s dangerous...”

A pause.

”...or it’s valuable.”

Liam said nothing.

But his grip tightened.

Logan finally broke the silence with an irritated sigh, dragging a hand through his hair.

”My hair is so stiff from sweat and dust it could snap a comb in half. I’ve suffered enough today.”

Lucas let out a quiet chuckle despite himself. Logan always had a way of turning misery into performance.

But Liam... he continued to remain still.

Rigid. Focused.

”Let’s just wait for Dad,” he said at last, his voice low, controlled. ”I’ll explain everything when he arrives.”

He had already sent word for their father, who was still locked in discussion with General Fuegerro over security matters.

And waiting—especially with something like this—was torture.

Logan’s gaze landed on the paper again.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. ”Come on, Bro. Let me see that. Now I am really curious,” he said, leaning forward. ”What’s on that paper that you’re guarding like it’s your lifeline?”

Liam didn’t respond.

He didn’t loosen his grip either.

...

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Lucas didn’t hesitate this time—he practically welcomed the interruption.

”Finally,” he muttered, striding to the door. ”It should be Dad.”

He opened it—

—and immediately lost momentum.

”Brothers, you’re all here.”

Layla’s head peeked in, warm but tentative. Beside her, Summer leaned in quietly, her soft smile a contrast to the tension inside.

Lucas blinked, caught mid-thought.

”Sis... what are you doing here?”

The words slipped out sharper than he intended.

Layla stilled. Just for a moment.

Something flickered in her eyes—uncertainty... then hurt.

Why does it feel like I’m not welcome?

Her fingers tightened slightly against the doorframe.

”Bro...” she said, her voice trembling just enough to sting, ”do you not want me here?”

She lowered her gaze, lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks.

”Should I... leave?”

Lucas immediately felt the weight of his words.

He ran a hand over his face. ”That’s not—”

”What nonsense are you saying?” Logan cut in smoothly, already on his feet. His tone was light, but his timing was surgical—he stepped in before the moment could sour further.

”We’re discussing security matters,” Logan added, tilting his head. ”Boring, serious, and full of words you’ll hate.”

Layla’s gaze lifted, searching. Her eyes shifted past him to Liam.

”And what kind of ’security matter’ requires all three of you?” she asked quietly.

That was a mistake.

Because now Liam turned.

Slowly.

And when he spoke, it wasn’t as a brother.

It was as someone used to being obeyed.

”It’s classified, Layla.”

His voice cut clean through the room—firm, steady, leaving no room for argument.

For a second, even the air seemed to still.

Layla opened her mouth... then closed it.

Whatever she was about to say faded before it could take shape.

Her shoulders stiffened slightly.

”I understand,” she said, though it sounded like she didn’t. ”Summer and I prepared dinner,” she added after a moment, her voice smaller now. ”We came to invite you.”

Lucas softened instantly—that was his instinct.

”We’ll come,” he said, stepping closer, tone warm and reassuring. ”Just give us a little time, okay?”

Layla nodded.

”Okay. Then, we will leave now, brothers.”

To anyone listening from the outside, it would have sounded like quiet politeness.

But inside the room, it felt like something small had just broken.

She forced a faint smile.

”Please come as soon as you can. The food will not taste good when it gets cold.”

”Of course, Sis,”

This time it was Logan. He said warmly, stepping closer. ”We’ll come as soon as we’re done here, Sis.”

Layla nodded.

But her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

And as the door closed behind her and Summer, the room fell back into silence, only now, it felt heavier than before.

Logan exhaled slowly.

”...Alright,” he muttered, glancing at Liam. ”You’ve officially made this more intense than it already was.”

His gaze dropped once more to the paper.

Always the curious one, Logan tried to snatch it away from him.

Liam finally moved.

He stepped forward, placing the document on the table between them—not carelessly, but with deliberate weight.

When he looked at them—

there was no hesitation left.

”This,” he said, voice steady,

”is why everything is about to change.”