The General's Daughter: The Mission

Chapter 200: She Remembered!



Chapter 200: She Remembered!

A/N: If you’ve read Book 1, you may skip this Chapter—it revisits a past event.

Lara pushed herself to her feet, ready to leave but a sudden, piercing pain split through her head.

Her breath hitched.

She staggered, dropping back into her seat as her fingers clutched her temples. The world around her blurred, sounds dulling into a distant hum.

And then something shifted.

Like a veil lifting.

Like a locked door finally giving way.

A fragment of memory surged forward, sharp and undeniable.

She remembered!

[Flashback]

Pain throbbed behind her eyes, sharp and relentless.

Lara’s brows drew tight as her lashes fluttered. It felt like something was drilling straight into her skull—each pulse heavier, louder, impossible to ignore.

She forced her eyes open.

Darkness peeled back slowly, her vision struggling to focus.

Then the sounds came in—

The pounding of hooves, fast and heavy, hammering against the ground.

And beneath it—

muffled sobs.

Soft. Broken. Too close.

They wrapped around her, tightening the air in her lungs, dragging her fully back to awareness.

Was this hell? It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t even begun her vendetta.

Memory snapped back—cold and precise.

They were in a sedan, headed for the capital. A clean setup. A controlled hit. The truck was supposed to strike at just the right speed—enough to shove them into the general’s path at the intersection.

Nothing fatal.

The passenger seat was reinforced. Airbags timed. Injuries—minor. Survivable.

That was the plan. But plans meant nothing.

Because another truck came out of nowhere—

Wrong place. Wrong time.

It slammed into them before anything could be corrected.

Metal screamed.

The old sedan skidded, spun—then flipped, rolling hard before crashing upside down.

Pain exploded through her skull, through every bone in her body—

And then— darkness.

...

The smell of sweat and body odor permeated the air. The nauseating scent, coupled with the incessant sobs of the child on her left and the coughing of another girl, each sound felt charged with a heavy urgency, pulled her further into an unsettling reality.

She was not dead, but instead, she was inside a cramped vehicle.

What just happened? Did the people who her father assigned to monitor the ambush take her away? But why was she not in the hospital, and why was she with other children?

"Miss, you are finally awake! I thought ... I thought..." the teenager burst into tears.

A young, delicate girl with fair skin, about twelve or thirteen years old, frowned when the acne-laden face of a dark-skinned teenager hovered over her.

Her eyes glinted with coldness when she realized she was lying on the lap of a strange woman. Because of the cramped space, her knees bent at an awkward angle.

She raised her hands to push the dark-skinned girl away.

"Please, Miss, don’t move," the dark-haired teenager implored, her voice barely above a whisper. Anxiety laced her words as she glanced nervously at the people nearby, fearing they might overhear. Her brows were furrowed, and her squinted eyes were filled with genuine concern.

Lara’s movement froze, not because of what the girl said but because she noticed something unusual about her. Her hands trembled.

She closed her eyes, counted one to three, and opened them again. Her gaze was fixed on the delicate and slender hand before her.

It was not hers but that of a younger girl. It was smooth and dainty and missing the calluses that defined her own hands.

"Miss Lara, are you alright?" the dark-skinned teenager asked, her voice filled with concern. She quickly rummaged through a gray cloth bag, pulling out a small clay jar snugly wrapped to protect it. Carefully, she removed the cork that sealed the jar. Gently, she helped Lara into a sitting position, bringing the jar closer to her lips.

"Here, please drink some water. I saved a little bit for you," she urged, her eyes full of worry.

Lara heaved a sigh of relief. She heard the girl call her Lara. Did that mean she was one of her father’s people?

She accepted the odd-looking jar and greedily drank the water from it, which was not much. She wondered why the dark-skinned girl used an old-fashioned clay jar instead of the disposable water bottle, which was much lighter.

"Thank you." She murmured, then struggled to move away from the teen.

A sudden dizziness caused her to pause. Once she regained her bearing, she studied herself and her surroundings.

Indeed, her hands had shrunk to the size when she was thirteen. She was oddly dressed in a long, colorful skirt that covered the entirety of her feet. She was wearing straw sandals instead of black rubber shoes. The sleeves of her blouse reached up to her elbow.

A crease appeared on her smooth forehead. She was baffled by her current situation.

They were in a closed van made of wood. The door was in front, and small windows were on both sides of the wall. At least eighteen to twenty girls were cramped in the small space, about two meters by one meter. They were all sitting on the floor.

Judging by the speed they were moving and the sound of hooves outside, the vehicle was being drawn by horses.

The line between Lara’s brows further deepened. She could not fathom her current situation.

She furtively glanced at the dark-skinned woman to her right. Judging by her actions, she should know what happened.

"Uhmm, I can’t seem to remember anything. Probably it’s because I hurt my head. Can you tell me what happened? Who am I, and where are we going?"

The dark-skinned teenager gasped, and then she stifled a sob.

"Miss, did you lose your memory? That vicious Mira might have hit you hard."

"Mira, who is she?" Lara asked, getting more confused.

"Miss... your name is Lara Norse. The only daughter of General Odin Norse. You have six older brothers."

The girl’s voice was low, urgent.

"Three days ago, your cousin Mira took you in—said it was just a visit. Then she brought you to the market..." Her jaw tightened. "Her servants knocked us out."

A beat.

"I woke up first. Pretended I didn’t."

Her eyes darkened.

"I heard everything. She sold us. To traffickers."

Silence pressed in.

"This—" she glanced around, voice hardening, "—this is where we ended up."

Then, softer—but certain:

"Don’t worry, Miss. Your father and brothers will come for us."

Lara just stared at her.

What...? General Odin Norse? Six brothers?

The words didn’t fit. Didn’t belong.

She only had one brother. One sister. Twins. Aiden and Aira.

So what the hell was this girl talking about?

[End of Flashback]

Lara blinked.

The world snapped back into place—too fast.

Ares’ face filled her vision, closer than expected, tension carved into his features.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

She nodded.

And this time—she was.

Because now, everything made sense.

She remembered!


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