The General's Daughter: The Mission

Chapter 187: A Walk With Yannis

"Lara," Yannis called, his voice carrying just enough firmness to cut through the quiet. "It’s getting late. We should head back."

Lara inclined her head in silent acknowledgment.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she began walking toward him—slowly, almost cautiously—as though each step required thought.

The wind shifted.

A soft breeze brushed past them, lifting strands of Yannis’s ash-blond hair and casting them across his face. With an absent, practiced motion, he raised a hand and smoothed it back into place.

Lara stopped.

Something about that gesture tugged at her memory—faint, distant, like a dream slipping through her fingers the moment she tried to grasp it.

Her gaze lingered.

His features were striking in a way that felt... familiar. Deep-set eyes, blue as the ocean, steady yet probing. The kind of eyes that didn’t just look—they observed. His sharp jawline, the quiet confidence in the way he carried himself... it all felt too vivid to be a coincidence.

And yet earlier, the way he had looked at her...

It wasn’t how one looked at a patient.

It wasn’t even how one looked at family.

It was something heavier. Something unspoken.

But if he was her father’s godson, then technically—

Her thoughts faltered.

Wouldn’t that make him something like an older brother?

...Then why did his gaze feel nothing like that?

...

The walk back to the mansion was quieter than before.

Their footsteps crunched softly against the gravel path, but the silence between them was not empty—it was measured.

Yannis had changed.

The warmth from earlier had withdrawn, replaced by something more clinical, more deliberate. The shift was subtle, but unmistakable. His posture straightened. His tone cooled.

The neurologist/psychiatrist had taken over.

"Lara," he began, glancing at her briefly before returning his eyes to the path ahead, "earlier, I heard you call out two names... Alaric and Althea."

His voice was calm—neutral—but there was precision in the way he enunciated each word.

"Why those names?"

Lara didn’t hesitate.

"I dreamt about them," she said, her tone even, almost detached. As though she were stating a mundane fact.

She was speaking the truth. She did dream about Alaric and the twins when they were still younger.

Yannis’s gaze sharpened, though his expression remained composed.

"You dreamt about them," he repeated, slower this time—not as a question, but as a probe. "Can you tell me more about the dream?"

There was a pause.

"Details matter," he added gently. "Settings, emotions, interactions... even fragments. The mind doesn’t choose symbols randomly."

Lara’s fingers curled slightly at her sides.

"They weren’t... fragments," she said after a moment. "It felt real. Like memories I wasn’t supposed to have."

That made him stop walking.

Just for a second.

Then he resumed, slower now.

"Memories," Yannis echoed. "But you recognize they aren’t yours."

It wasn’t quite a question.

Lara’s hazel eyes flickered, something unsteady surfacing beneath her calm.

"...Do I?"

That was new.

Yannis turned his head toward her fully this time, studying her face—not just what she said, but how she said it. Micro-expressions. Eye movement. Breathing patterns.

"She said their names in her sleep too..." he murmured, almost to himself.

Lara stiffened. "What?"

He didn’t answer directly.

Instead, he shifted angles.

"Have you come across those names before?" he asked. "In books, perhaps? Records? Your father’s collection?"

A beat.

Then, carefully he said:

"I remember a novel from that author Themis. It mentioned an Alaric... and a Lara who had twins—Aldrich and Althea."

He watched her closely. His gaze focused on her face.

Lara’s expression didn’t change immediately—but her eyes betrayed her.

"Yes," she said at last, her voice quieter now. "If you put it like that."

Her reply was too quick, too controlled.

Yannis frowned slightly.

That wasn’t how someone recalled a book.

That was how someone adjusted a story.

He exhaled softly, slipping his hands into his pockets to ground himself.

There were too many inconsistencies.

Dreams that felt like memories. Names repeated unconsciously. Emotional responses that didn’t align with her supposed knowledge.

And that look she gave him earlier...when she was walking toward him...

As if she knew him.

As if she remembered something he didn’t.

Yannis opened his mouth, a question forming—sharper this time, more direct.

Who are you remembering?

But he stopped himself.

Not yet.

Pushing too hard now would only make her retreat further into herself.

Instead, he softened his tone.

"We’ll talk about it again," he said calmly. "When you’ve had more rest."

Lara nodded, though her thoughts were far from settled.

As they approached the looming silhouette of the mansion, neither of them spoke again.

But the silence between them had changed.

It was no longer empty.

It was waiting.

...

A low, guttural growl tore through the stillness.

Before the sound fully registered, a streak of black shot out from the shadows—fast, sudden, predatory—and lunged straight toward Lara.

Yannis froze.

For a split second, his mind failed to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. Training, logic, instinct—none of it bridged the gap quickly enough.

But Lara—

Lara moved.

Her body reacted before thought could form. She twisted sharply, her foot pivoting against the ground as she leapt aside. The black blur skimmed past where she had been standing just a heartbeat ago.

"Midnight!" Lara called, her voice cutting through the chaos.

The small wolf pup landed with surprising force, claws scraping against the ground as it skidded to a stop.

Something dangled from its jaws.

A snake.

Thin. Dark. Coiling frantically.

Its body writhed violently, scales glinting under the dim light as it twisted and snapped, trying to free itself. Its fangs flashed—small, but unmistakably venomous.

Midnight growled again, deeper this time—instinct overriding size. His tiny frame trembled with effort, but his jaws clamped tighter.

He shook his head once. Twice.

The snake’s movements grew weaker... slower...

Until it fell limp.

Silence followed.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then Lara exhaled.

"Good boy," she murmured softly.

She stepped forward, crouching as she gently lifted Midnight into her arms. The pup’s chest rose and fell rapidly, adrenaline still coursing through his small body.

"You did so well," she whispered, her fingers brushing through his soft black fur in slow, soothing strokes.

Midnight let out a small, satisfied huff, his tail giving a faint wag despite the battle he had just won.

Behind them, hurried footsteps approached.