Chase gauges Lucia and her loyalty to Diego

Chase

Chase leaned back into the couch, one leg kicked up on the table in front of him. The chip dust on his fingers along with her saliva had mostly transferred to her scalp now, he’d been petting her head absentmindedly the last few minutes like she was a favored dog.

Lucia sat directly across from him in the matching armchair. Legs crossed tight. Arms folded so hard her knuckles were white. Jaw clenched. She kept flicking her eyes between his face and her mother’s serene, pleasured smile. Every time she looked at Valeria kneeling there, naked, ass still glowing red, breathing slowly and evenly, something hot and angry flashed across Lucia’s face.

Chase could see the other thing too.

The way her thighs pressed together a little harder whenever Valeria let out one of those soft, contented sighs. The way Lucia’s pupils stayed dilated even when she tried to glare. The faint flush creeping up her neck that had nothing to do with rage.

He smiled to himself. Small. Private. Then he spoke.

“So,” he said, giving Valeria’s hair one last lazy scratch before letting his hand rest heavy on top of her head again, “why are you here, Lucia?”

Lucia’s eyes snapped back to him.

“You know exactly why I’m here, you piece of shit.” Her voice came out low and shaking. “Undo whatever the fuck you did to her. Right now.”

Chase tilted his head. “Be specific.”

“I want my mother back.” She jabbed a finger toward Valeria without looking at her. “Not this, this thing you turned her into. You can keep doing whatever sick crap you want to Diego. I don’t give a fuck about him. But you don’t get to fuck with her. Not like this.”

Chase let out a short laugh. Not loud. Just amused.

“Well damn,” he said. “At least we can bond over hating the little cockroach.”

Lucia’s shoulders stiffened. “I don’t hate my brother.”

The denial came out too fast. Too weak. Even she heard how half-assed it sounded.

Chase’s smile widened. “Sure you don’t.”

“I don’t,” she snapped. But her voice cracked on the second word.

He leaned forward slightly, elbow on his knee, chin resting on his fist. The casual way he kept his other hand draped over Valeria’s head never changed, like she was furniture.

“Come on,” he said, almost gentle. “Why do you hate him?”

Lucia’s mouth opened. Closed. She looked away, toward the TV, toward the floor, anywhere but at him or her mother.

Then the words came anyway. Quiet at first. Then faster.

“He took her,” she said. “The second he was born it was all about him. Every smile, every hug, every ‘I’m proud of you’, it all went to the baby. I was suddenly just… background. The loud, difficult one who didn’t fit the picture anymore.”

She swallowed. And yet, kept going.

“And then when I told her I liked girls? She looked at me like I’d spat in her face. Like I’d personally ruined her perfect little family fantasy. Diego never had to deal with that. He got the good version of her. Always.”

Chase nodded once. Slow. No mockery in it this time.

“That must have hurt,” he said simply.

Lucia blinked. She’d been waiting years for someone to say exactly that and never expected it to come from him.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “It did.”

She looked down at her hands. Uncrossed her arms. Voice dropping lower.

“I missed her. Even after I left. Even after all the shit. I missed the mom who used to braid my hair and call me her little shadow. Before everything got… complicated.”

Chase listened. Didn’t interrupt. Just let her talk.

When she finally ran out of words he sat back straight again. Hand still resting on Valeria’s head.

Then he spoke, loud. Clear. Commanding.

“Mind Blank.”

Valeria’s eyes snapped wide for half a second.

Then they emptied.

Completely.

Pupils fixed straight ahead. Face slack. Body still kneeling, still perfectly posed, but the light behind her eyes switched off like someone flipped a switch.

Lucia jerked upright in the chair. “What the fuck did you just—”

Chase ignored her.

He reached down, grabbed a fistful of Valeria’s hair at the roots, and pulled her forward. She moved without resistance, crawling the short distance on her knees until she was positioned exactly between the two. Face toward Lucia. Still blank. Still serene.

Chase kept his grip on her hair. Casual. Like holding a leash.

He rubbed the pad of his thumb along Valeria’s cheekbone, slow, almost tender, while he looked straight at Lucia.

“What if you could have your mother back?” he asked quietly. “Better than she ever was.”