The General's Daughter: The Mission

The announcement shattered the remaining silence.

The Norse brothers leaped to their feet in the VIP section, cheering at the top of their lungs.

”THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!”

”Nemesis! Nemesis!”

Their excitement had little to do with the spectacle alone. Their bets had paid off handsomely, and none of them had any intention of pretending otherwise.

Ares, however, barely acknowledged the victory celebration. His eyes remained fixed on Nemesis, relief washing through him now that the fight was over and he was still standing and unscathed.

Across the arena, Anton Trillo wore a far less triumphant expression. He had lost a considerable sum betting on Rocky, though his decision to hedge his bet on Nemesis had allowed him to recover part of the loss.

It was a bitter consolation.

”Damn it. How could he lose?”

Artemio Fuegerro, meanwhile, sat frozen in disbelief.

How could Rocky lose to that slender man?

He had trusted Rocky’s strength and experience. Against a fighter with such a dramatic physical disadvantage, Rocky should have had the upper hand.

Yet Nemesis had dismantled him.

Disbelief quickly gave way to anger.

Then Artemio noticed something that made his expression change.

Rocky still hadn’t moved.

The fighter lay on the canvas while the referee called for medical assistance. His chest rose only faintly, and even from a distance, his condition looked alarming.

Anton’s anger evaporated.

Rocky was one of his best men. Whatever had happened inside the cage, losing him to a serious injury would be far more troublesome than losing a bet.

A team of medics hurried into the cage with a stretcher. Rocky’s trainer followed close behind, his face drained of color. After a quick assessment, the ringside physician exchanged a grave look with the medical team.

They needed to get Rocky to a hospital immediately.

As the medics worked to secure him onto the stretcher, the arena descended into chaos. Spectators crowded the barriers, shouting questions and arguing over the unexpected result. Security personnel struggled to keep the aisles clear.

Amid the commotion, almost no one noticed that the winner had disappeared.

One moment, Nemesis had been standing inside the cage.

The next, she was gone. She vanished into thin air.

...

The back gate of the arena opened with a metallic groan.

A slender figure in a dark hoodie slipped through the narrow opening, keeping her head lowered as she stepped into the night.

The hood concealed most of her face, while the loose clothing disguised the shape of her body. From a distance, anyone who caught a glimpse of her would have assumed she was a young man leaving the venue.

No one would have guessed that the unassuming figure was the same fighter who had just knocked out a heavyweight champion in front of thousands of spectators.

Lara Fuegerro.

Nemesis.

She walked with light, unhurried steps, her mood noticeably better than it had been before the fight. The roar of the arena gradually faded behind her, replaced by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rush of a passing vehicle.

She had accomplished what she came for.

Now, all she wanted was to reach her car and leave before anyone thought to look for her.

She had parked it a block away, deliberately choosing a spot far enough from the arena to avoid attracting attention.

Turning the corner, she reached for her phone to check the time.

And walked straight into a wall of solid muscle.

Her shoulder collided with something solid.

Before Lara could take a step back, a large hand closed around her arm, steadying her before she could lose her balance.

She stiffened.

Slowly, she lifted her head.

A pair of obsidian eyes stared down at her from beneath a shadowed brow. They were dark, penetrating, and unmistakably familiar.

For a fleeting moment, neither of them spoke.

Then recognition flashed through Lara’s eyes.

”You...”

Surprise flickered across her face, but she quickly regained her composure. Whatever she had been about to say, she swallowed it and replaced it with a guarded expression.

”What are you doing here, Ares?”

He ignored her question.

Instead, his gaze settled on her right cheek. Without warning, he lifted his hand and brushed his thumb gently across the spot where she had been struck.

”Does it hurt?”

Lara’s eyes widened.

Did he recognize me?

The question struck her harder than his unexpected appearance.

She went to considerable lengths to conceal her identity. Even the way she moved and carried herself had been carefully adjusted. Yet Ares was looking at her as though the disguise meant absolutely nothing.

”No, it doesn’t hurt,” she replied, holding his gaze.

She refused to look away first. If he had discovered her secret, she needed to know how much he had figured out.

Ares’s jaw tightened.

”Why were you so reckless?” he demanded, his voice low enough that only she could hear. ”Don’t ever do that again.”

Before Lara could retort, he released her arm and resumed walking beside her, as though he had every intention of accompanying her wherever she was going.

Lara stood rooted to the spot.

What was wrong with this man?

She turned to watch him take two more steps before finally stopping and looking back at her.

”Aren’t you coming?”

Instead of answering, Lara narrowed her eyes.

”You knew it was me?”

Ares regarded her as though the question itself were ridiculous.

”Of course I did.”

”How?”

A faint, almost arrogant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

”Did you really think you could fool me?” His obsidian eyes held hers without the slightest hesitation. ”You might be able to fool everyone else, but not me.”

His certainty left Lara momentarily speechless.

She had expected suspicion, perhaps even a few probing questions. She hadn’t expected him to recognize her so effortlessly—or to act as though seeing through her disguise was the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, she wondered just how much Ares knew about her.

Then she pushed the thought aside. She had more pressing concerns than figuring out how he had uncovered her identity.

Ares fell into step beside her, his attention never straying far from her face.

”Tell me something,” he said after a brief silence. ”Do you have a personal grudge against that man, or are you doing this for money?”

Lara’s expression changed.

The fleeting surprise in her eyes vanished, replaced by something cold and implacable.

”I do have a grudge against him.”

Ares studied her profile, waiting for her to elaborate.

Lara’s lips curved into a humorless smile.

”And it’s irreconcilable.”