Page 21 of Monstrosity (Raiders of Valhalla MC: New Blood #5)

CHAPTER NINE

Dasha

"Dasha, this box says 'kitchen stuff' but there's a lamp in it," Florencia announces, holding up evidence of my terrible packing skills.

"That's... uh, a suggestion, not a rulebook," I offer weakly, looking around my apartment at the chaos we've created.

Two weeks since the night Rio came home covered in blood but whole, and we're finally making it official.

I'm moving in to his house.

The morning sun streams through the windows, highlighting the disaster zone my once-tidy apartment has become.

Boxes are everywhere, some taped, some still gaping open, most labeled in my increasingly creative shorthand that made sense at the time but now seems like a foreign language.

"You're really bad at packing," Cali observes from where she's "helping" by putting my throw pillows into a box one at a time, stopping to hug each one first.

"She's not wrong," Rio says from the kitchen, where he's wrapping my dishes in newspaper with the kind of precision usually reserved for loading weapons. "Why do you have seventeen coffee mugs?"

"Because they're all special!" I protest, rescuing my favorite one from his efficient packing. "This one's from that trip to Savannah, and this one Meghan gave me for my birthday, and this one?—"

"And they're all coming home with us," he says, kissing my temple as he passes. "Every single one."

Home. Not his house. Home. Our home.

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of adjustments.

After that terrible night when Bembe threatened everything we held dear, Rio eliminated him and the threat he posed.

The bruises on my throat faded from purple to yellow to nothing, but the memory of that desperation—and Rio's absolute ruthlessness in protecting us—remains.

Some nights I still dream about it.

The feeling of hands on my throat, the moment I thought I might not see my girls again.

But then I wake up in Rio's arms, in our bed, safe and protected, and the fear fades.

Now we're here, packing up my old life to start our new one properly.

"Can I have this for my room?" Cali holds up a sequined throw pillow that's definitely seen better days.

"Of course, baby."

"Yay! Our house is gonna be so pretty with your stuff in it!" She adds it to her personal pile, which has grown to include two blankets, a ceramic elephant, and inexplicably, my colander.

"Why do you need a colander?" Florencia asks her sister with the exasperated tone only an older sibling can achieve.

"For things," Cali says mysteriously.

Rio catches my eye and winks.

God, I love this man. Two weeks of waking up next to him every morning, of being an official family unit, and I still can't believe this is my life.

" Mija , that's enough claiming Dasha's things," he tells Cali gently. "She needs some of them for the kitchen."

"But Daddy, our kitchen is boring. It needs pretty things!"

"My kitchen is not boring," he protests.

"It's a little boring," I stage-whisper to Cali, who giggles.

"I heard that." But he's smiling as he says it. "What's wrong with my kitchen?"

"It's very... masculine," I say diplomatically. "Lots of black and stainless steel."

"That's called modern."

"That's called bachelor pad," Florencia chimes in, not looking up from the book she's carefully packing. "Meghan said so."

"Meghan says a lot of things," Rio grumbles, but he's fighting a smile.

The apartment looks strange half-empty.

I've lived here for three years, my safe little space away from the world.

The walls still show faint outlines where pictures hung, little ghosts of the life I built here.

My first Christmas tree in the corner by the window.

The spot where I spilled red wine and could never quite get the stain out.

The kitchen where I taught myself to cook after the divorce, burning more meals than I care to remember.

Now it feels like it belongs to someone else, someone who didn't know what it was like to be loved by Rio Rojas and his daughters.

"You okay?" Rio appears at my elbow, reading my mood as always.

"Just... nostalgic, I guess. This was my first place after the divorce. My fresh start."

"Regrets?" There's something vulnerable in his voice, like he's afraid I might be having second thoughts.

"No," I say quickly, turning to face him. "Never. It's just strange, you know? Closing one chapter."

"And starting another," he finishes. "A better one."

"The best one," I correct, standing on my toes to kiss him.

"Ew, they're being gross again," Cali announces.

"They're always gross," Florencia agrees. "It's what people in love do."

"How do you know about people in love?" Rio asks, narrowing his eyes at his eldest.

"I read," she says primly. "And watch movies. And have eyes."

"Too smart for your own good," he mutters, but he's smiling.

A knock at the door interrupts the moment.

Rio immediately goes alert, hand drifting toward where his gun would be, before relaxing.

Old habits.

Even with Bembe gone, even with the immediate threat eliminated, he's still protective.

Still watching for danger.

I used to find it excessive.

Now I understand it's just part of loving someone in this life—you're always aware of what could be lost.

"It's just Meghan," I say, checking the peephole. "She said she'd stop by."

I open the door to find not just Meghan but also Tindra, Starla, and two other women from the club I've gotten to know—Everly and Astrid.

"Moving committee has arrived!" Meghan announces, pushing past me with a box of donuts. "Can't have you packing on an empty stomach."

"Or without proper supervision," Starla adds, eyeing my haphazard box labeling. "Honey, what system are you using here?"

"Chaos?" I suggest.

"Creative chaos," Astrid corrects, already pulling on work gloves. "But we're here to impose order."

"Men, out," Everly commands, shooing Rio toward the door. "This is women's work now. Take the girls to the park or something."

"I don't get shooed from anywhere," Rio grumbles, but he's already reaching for his jacket.

"You do today," Astrid says firmly. "We've got gossip to share and you'll just give us the death stare if we talk about your brothers."

"I don't give death stares to people who don’t deserve it."

Everyone in the room gives him a look.

"Out," Starla repeats. "Give us three hours."

"Three hours?" He looks mildly panicked. "What am I supposed to do with two kids for three hours?"

"You’re in an MC," Meghan points out. "I think you can handle your own daughters."

"The club's easier," he mutters, but he's already herding the girls toward the door. "Come on, monsters. Let's go get ice cream while the ladies do their thing."

"Ice cream!" Cali abandons her packing immediately. "Can we get sprinkles?"

"All the sprinkles," he confirms, then leans in to kiss me. "Don't let them pack anything weird."

"Define weird."

"You know what I mean." Another kiss. "Love you."

"Love you too."

"Love you three!" Cali shouts.

"Love you infinity," Florencia adds, not to be outdone.

After they leave, Meghan immediately pounces. "Okay, spill. How's it been? Living together officially?"

"Amazing," I admit, accepting a donut. "Like we've been doing it forever."

"The sex must be incredible," Tindra says, then blushes. "Sorry, that was?—"

"The sex is incredible," I confirm, making her blush deeper. "But it's more than that. It's the little things. Coffee in bed every morning. Him braiding the girls' hair while I make breakfast. Family dinners where we actually talk about our days."

"The girls seem thrilled," Starla observes, starting to repack my kitchen box properly. "Florencia cornered me yesterday to ask if you being there all the time meant you were her 'real' mom now."

My heart clenches. "What did you tell her?"

"That 'real' is about love, not just biology. And that she's lucky to have you." She wraps a plate carefully. "That little girl adores you, you know. Both of them do."

"I adore them too," I say, throat tight. "Sometimes I can't believe I get to be their mom."

"Believe it," Everly says, joining us in the kitchen. "Those girls claimed you long before Rio got his head out of his ass."

"Speaking of Rio," Meghan grins wickedly, "how's he handling having you there all the time? Still walking around like he won the lottery?"

"Pretty much," I laugh. "Yesterday I caught him just standing in the doorway watching me fold laundry with this dopey smile on his face."

"That's disgusting," Astrid declares. "And adorable. Disgustingly adorable."

"None of that," Everly says briskly. "We've got work to do. Tindra, start on the bathroom. Meghan, bedroom. I'll tackle this disaster of a living room."

"I feel like I should be offended by everyone's assessment of my packing skills," I say.

"You labeled a box 'stuff and things,'" Starla points out.

"It has stuff and things in it!"

"That's not a system, honey."

We work in silence, the women sharing stories and club gossip as we pack.

The apartment fills with laughter and the easy camaraderie I've come to love about these women.

They've welcomed me into their circle without hesitation, treating me like I've always belonged.

"So Tindra," Meghan says with exaggerated casualness, "how are things with Bodul?"

Tindra flushes prettily. "Mom, ugh. Good. Really good. He's taking me to that new Italian place tomorrow night. As friends."

"Friends? That’s a joke," Everly observes. "Boy's smitten."

"He's sweet," Tindra defends. "And respectful. And?—"

"Hung like a horse?" Meghan suggests.

"Meghan!" Starla scolds, but she's laughing.

"What? We're all thinking it. Prospect boys are always eager to please."

"I doubt he’ll be a prospect for long," Tindra reminds us. "Look at Rio, he got patched in."

"Rio was a prospect for what felt like half a century," Astrid says. "Full patch, still eager to please. Best of both worlds."

"How are you really doing?" Starla asks quietly when we're alone in the kitchen later. "After everything that happened?"