The General's Daughter: The Mission-Chapter 119: Does He Like Her Too?

Lara had been gone for quite a while, yet the two brothers remained rooted to the same spot, as if her departure had frozen time itself. The room still carried a faint trace of her presence—something soft and unfamiliar that didn’t belong in Ares’s austere space.

"Asher," Ares said at last, his voice low and measured. He slid open the glass door, and the cool night air spilled into the room, stirring the curtains like a quiet exhale. "A few hours ago, you looked at Larissa with... interest."

"Well," Asher replied, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stepped closer to the balcony, "I called Layla. Asked about her. Summer was there too."

Ares’s brow lifted slightly. "Them? And what did they have to say?"

Asher gave a short, humorless laugh. "Layla said Larissa Reyes is an opportunist. That she tried to climb into your bed through Shay... and that she’s after the Norse family’s wealth and prestige."

Ares let out a dry chuckle, the sound carrying no real amusement.

"And you believed them?"

"Of course not." Asher moved out onto the balcony, gripping the cold metal railing, his gaze fixed on the city lights below. "That’s why I came to you. To see for myself." He shrugged faintly. "Besides, I couldn’t sleep. Jet lag."

He fell silent for a moment, then tilted his head back to look at his brother standing in the doorway.

"Who would’ve thought I’d walk in on you having an intimate conversation with her?" His lips curved into a sly, teasing smile. "That’s not like you, Ares. I can’t remember the last time you let any woman into this room."

For a heartbeat, Ares glimpsed the younger brother he used to know—the mischievous, warm version that had existed before the accident hardened him.

"Don’t get the wrong idea," Ares said sharply. "She’s Shay’s governess. Nothing more. She’s an employee."

Asher’s eyes narrowed, something thoughtful—and almost knowing—passing through them.

"You said that yourself," he murmured. "Don’t regret it later." He pushed off the railing. "Good night, bro."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out, his footsteps fading down the hall until the room fell into heavy silence once more.

Ares remained where he stood, staring at the closed door long after Asher was gone, his expression unreadable, his body unnaturally still.

What did he mean by that?

...

Lara woke up at the crack of dawn, the sky outside still a dull gray, the kind of hour when even the birds hadn’t decided if they were ready to be alive yet.

She turned to Shay, who was still asleep, hugging the pink bunny like it owed her money.

Lara eased the door shut and headed outside.

The Zuvel Laguna estate was massive — the kind of place that didn’t feel like a house so much as a private resort.

The lawn rolled out forever, manicured to perfection, dew clinging to every blade of grass like diamonds nobody would ever bother to pick up.

Mist clung low to the ground, and the horizon was just beginning to glow. The air cool and faintly scented with damp earth and flowering trees.

She stretched once, then started her jog.

Her running shorts were soft and flexible, riding high enough to move freely without needing constant adjustment, while her fitted athletic top hugged her torso like a second skin — supportive, breathable, zero nonsense.

It wasn’t meant to turn heads. It was meant to survive sweat, speed, and humidity.

Still, on her, it did both.

Up on the master bedroom balcony, Ares had stepped out just to clear his head. He was about to turn back inside when movement below caught his attention.

Lara.

She moved with easy confidence, not fast, not slow — just steady, like she knew exactly what her body could do and didn’t need to prove it to anyone. Her ponytail swung behind her with each step, dark against the pale morning light.

Ares leaned his forearms on the railing without realizing it, eyes tracking her as she ran the perimeter path. Watching her felt... dangerous.

Then another figure entered his line of sight.

Tall and lean. Dressed in black — shorts, compression shirt, the works — closing in on her pace like he had somewhere to be and she was it.

Asher.

He looked like a male model of sports apparel.

Ares’s jaw tightened. His hand curled around the metal railing, grip hard enough to bite.

Damn. What the hell is he doing?

Last night’s words echoed back, smug and sharp.

Don’t regret it later.

Something ugly stirred in Ares’s chest — hot, unfamiliar, territorial.

Did Asher want Lara?

Before the thought could settle, Ares pushed off the railing and stormed back inside. He stripped out of his sleep clothes and yanked on running shorts and a training shirt, movements quick, aggressive — not like a man gearing up for a workout, but like one who’d just spotted competition.

No way in hell he was staying on that balcony.

...

"Hey—wait up!"

Asher’s voice cut through the quiet morning as he lengthened his stride, sneakers pounding softly against the paved path. He closed the gap fast, like he was used to chasing things down — deals, trouble, attention, whatever caught his interest.

Within seconds, he was running beside her.

"You’re up early," he said, shooting her a sideways glance, breath barely touched. "Even the Norse siblings are still dead to the world."

Lara didn’t look at him right away. Her gaze stayed forward, focused on the winding path ahead, her breathing steady, controlled.

"Body clock," she replied simply. "No matter what time I sleep, I’m up before sunrise."

She eased her pace, shifting into an easy jog, the kind runners used when they could go for miles without burning out. Not trying to impress. Not trying to escape. Just... being comfortable.

Asher matched her speed automatically.

"You actually enjoy this?" he asked, brows lifting slightly. "Most people run because they’re mad, guilty, or trying to survive a breakup."

That earned him the smallest hint of a smile.

"Then, are you mad, or guilty, or trying to survive a breakup?"