The General's Daughter: The Mission

Chapter 188: The Forged Weapon

Ares and Asher emerged from the direction of the mansion, their expressions tense.

Ares’s gaze immediately dropped to the lifeless snake on the ground.

His face darkened.

"Security," he called sharply.

Within seconds, the head of security rushed forward, posture stiff with urgency.

Ares didn’t waste time.

"How," he demanded, his voice low but laced with irritation, "did a snake get this close to the mansion?"

The air grew heavier.

The guard hesitated. "Sir, we—"

"It’s venomous," Lara interjected calmly, though her hand continued absentmindedly scratching Midnight’s belly. "Small, yes—but not harmless."

She glanced at the snake briefly, then back at the pup in her arms.

"If Midnight hadn’t reacted..." she added, her tone softening just slightly, "...I wouldn’t have noticed it in time. What if it wasn’t me? What if it’s Shay?"

Ares’s jaw tightened.

His hand curled into a fist at his side, the tension in his body barely contained. The thought had already crossed his mind—and he didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

His gaze shifted to Lara, sharp and unreadable.

Beside him, Asher crossed his arms, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

Seriously...

His eyes flicked from the dead snake... to the wolf pup... to Lara, who was now calmly cuddling the very creature that had just saved her life.

Why does trouble keep finding her?

...

The snake should not have been there.

This estate was too controlled. Too guarded. Too meticulously maintained for something like this to slip through unnoticed—especially this close to the mansion.

Which meant—

His gaze shifted.

"Dispose of it," Ares ordered curtly, stepping back as if the very sight of it offended him. "And sweep the entire perimeter. I want every inch checked."

"Yes, sir."

The guards moved quickly, one carefully lifting the snake with a tool, the others already speaking into their radios, voices low but urgent.

The atmosphere shifted.

What had been a quiet morning had turned into something sharp-edged... watchful.

Lara, however, remained where she was.

Still crouched. Still calm. Still... petting the wolf pup.

Midnight preened under the attention, his earlier ferocity replaced by soft, pleased sounds.

As if he hadn’t just killed something twice his length.

Yannis watched her closely.

"You weren’t startled," he said.

It wasn’t an accusation. It was an observation. But knowing Lara, it was natural for her.

Lara looked up at him.

"I moved, didn’t I?"

"That’s not what I asked."

His tone was mild, but there was no mistaking the precision behind it. The kind that dissected answers rather than accepted them.

"You reacted quickly," Yannis continued. "But not like someone surprised. More like..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "...someone who anticipated danger."

A faint breeze passed between them.

Lara held his gaze.

For a moment—just a moment—something flickered in her eyes.

Then it was gone.

"You’re overanalyzing," she said lightly.

"Occupational hazard."

"Psychiatris job." Asher muttered under his breath, just loud enough to be heard.

Yannis ignored him.

His attention remained fixed on Lara.

"Let me ask you differently," he said. "When it lunged—what did you feel?"

Lara tilted her head slightly.

"Excited," she answered.

That—

That made him pause.

"Yes." She stood now, brushing imaginary dust from her dress, Midnight still nestled comfortably in her arms. "Midnight had learned how to hunt."

Silence.

Even Asher blinked at that.

Ares’s gaze sharpened.

"That wasn’t a normal reaction," Yannis said.

"No?" Lara met his eyes again, calm and unwavering. "What would you have preferred? Panic?"

"No," Yannis replied softly. "Fear."

The word lingered.

But Lara only smiled faintly.

"I think," she said, "fear and I aren’t well acquainted."

...

Inside the mansion, the tension followed them in.

Servants moved more quickly than usual, whispers threading through the halls like unseen currents. Security presence doubled almost instantly—footsteps heavier, more frequent.

The estate had awakened.

And not in a good way.

Ares stopped just before the grand staircase.

"Asher," he said, his voice low, controlled. "Stay with her."

Asher raised a brow. "You say that like she’s the one who needs protection."

Ares didn’t respond immediately.

His gaze flicked—briefly, meaningfully—to Lara.

Then back to Asher.

"That wasn’t an accident."

The words were quiet.

But final.

Asher’s expression shifted, the humor draining from it.

"...Yeah," he said after a beat. "I figured."

Ares turned to the head of security, who had just re-entered.

"Lock down the outer grounds," he ordered. "No one enters or leaves without my approval. Review all surveillance from the last twenty-four hours."

"Yes, sir."

"And find out," Ares added, his voice dropping further, "who thought it was a good idea to test my patience."

Meanwhile, Yannis had not moved.

Physically, yes—he had followed them inside. But mentally...

He was still outside. Still replaying the moment. The timing. The angle of the strike.

Lara’s reaction.

That wasn’t just unusual.

It was wrong.

He glanced toward her again.

Lara stood a few steps away, her attention fully returned to Midnight, her fingers slipping gently through the pup’s dark fur in slow, absent strokes. Her touch was soft—almost tender—and her expression...

Peaceful.

As if the incident moments ago had been nothing more than a passing inconvenience. As if danger did not belong to her world.

Yannis let out a long, controlled breath.

But it did nothing to steady the unease clawing at his chest.

Because now, he was certain.

She’s back.

His gaze darkened as it lingered on her.

Lara... or rather, the version of her that should have remained buried—was surfacing.

The weapon that Artemio Fuegerro had so carefully forged.

She is back!

In the way she moved—too precise, too efficient.

In the way she spoke—measured, controlled, never wasting a word.

And most of all...in the way she responded to danger.

There was no hesitation, no fear.

She acted on instinct or from memory—whether she acknowledged it or not.

Yannis’s fingers curled slightly at his side.

She doesn’t know it yet.

But he did.

And that made it worse.

A quiet dread settled over him, heavy and suffocating.

Because once those instincts fully aligned with memory—

There would be no going back.

He had seen it before. What she became when everything returned. What she was capable of.

His jaw tightened.

"No..." he muttered under his breath.

His gaze softened—just barely—as it rested on her once more.

Lara scratched beneath Midnight’s chin, and the pup let out a soft, contented sound, completely at ease in her arms.

For a fleeting moment, she looked... normal, untouched.

And that was exactly why he couldn’t allow it.

"I won’t let you remember," Yannis whispered, so quietly it barely existed.

Because he knew the truth was absolute, cruel, and unforgiving.

It would be better for her to remain trapped inside this fabricated world... this story she believed in...

Than to return to reality as what she once was.

An assassin. A weapon.

A girl who had long since been stripped of the right to be anything else.

Yannis closed his eyes briefly.

Then opened them again, resolve settling in.

Even if it meant standing against her—

Even if it meant she would one day hate him

He would choose this version of her that woke up from a coma.