Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Five years ago.

It was a quiet night in Moscow when Luke Hobbs, Diplomatic Security Service, came barging into Elizabeth's life.

For once, the reception area of the brothel was empty. No clients sat on the black leather lounge suites and the magazines displayed on the coffee table remained undisturbed. On the left wall, an antique clock said it was a few minutes past nine. The front glass door was closed and a thick purple curtain drawn across it helped to block out the sounds of nightlife in the red light district.

Seated behind a heavy wooden desk, Elizabeth swirled the dregs of tea in her mug before finishing it and setting it aside. Normally she would've been curled up in bed by now or dancing the night away in a club if work hadn't proved tedious and exhausting, but the regular receptionist was sick. Someone had to cover for Natalya, after all, and their patrons certainly didn't want some grizzly old man suggesting which woman they'd like to become better acquainted with.

Eyes focused on the computer monitor, she didn't notice the door open at first. Elizabeth glanced up only when she heard the sound of drunken laughter slip in from outside. Two white men in suits walked in, chatting between themselves in English, and strolled toward the desk with a confidence that was oddly unsettling.

"Gentlemen," she said, "how can I help you this evening?"

"Hi." Tall, dark-haired and forty-something, the foremost man spoke with an American accent. The other stood a foot behind him to his right, casually looking around the room. Once or twice, his eyes went to the open corridor to her left that led to the rest of the building. "We were talking to a friend of ours who was here last week and decided we'd like some company."

"Of course," she said, forcing a polite smile. "We have many ladies here. Why don't you have a look and I'll make sure a room's available?"

Elizabeth lifted the lookbook from its place on the desk and handed it to them. Both men nodded their thanks and seated themselves on a lounge several feet from the corridor's entrance. The pair seemed normal by all accounts — dressed in suits with collars not quite properly folded, shirts wrinkled at the waist as if hurriedly tucked in — yet their accents gave them away as foreigners. Frankly, the first one appeared almost too self-assured, too comfortable, to be the kind of man that hired escorts.

Perhaps it was merely well-honed instinct, or the hairs raising on the back of her neck, that set off her internal alarm bells. She couldn't pinpoint it but something about them was off. It was the kind of feeling a woman got when considering walking down an empty alleyway or cutting through a dimly lit park at night. Of course it could also just be paranoia.

Or maybe the same instinct that'd told her when to run as a kid before the cops showed up had reared its head again.

She'd always known things would fall apart sooner or later. Eventually, Elizabeth figured, the government would turn up (or the police) to put a stop to their operations. The brothel itself was merely a front for the Russian mob, and when criminals gathered in numbers they invariably drew the attention of law enforcement. Even in Moscow, blind eyes could only be turned for so long.

She hadn't expected the day to come so soon, however, but here it was.

And here they were.

As calm as ever, Elizabeth reached for the cellphone on her desk and slipped it into her pants pocket. The bluetooth earpiece still sat in her right ear, closer to an extension of her body than a fashion accessory. She fetched two swipe cards off the shelf and walked down the corridor, checking a round mirror mounted at the end of it to make sure the two men weren't following her.

Both looked in her direction but neither moved. Maybe she was completely overthinking things. They could just be American tourists determined to enjoy their stay in Moscow and nothing more. A pair of odd, slightly out-of-place men looking for someone to fill the lonely voids in their lives.

Whatever the answer, it would only take a phone call to confirm her suspicions.

Outside in a sleek black limousine, Hobbs stared at the paused feed from a pinhole camera attached to Chato's jacket. Onscreen, a brunette white woman in a pantsuit looked towards them, hair tied back in a ponytail with not so much as a strand out of place. Her smile made her look friendly but those dark eyes . . . there was something about the look in them that reminded him of his real target: her brother.

Tossing the screen aside, Luke discarded his wig on the front seat and stepped out of the warmth of the car. His breath streamed away in white clouds, a shiver ran down his spine and he rubbed his hands together as the cool night air hit him. It had to be fifty degrees outside, maybe less. Luke grumbled and walked towards the private side entrance reserved for dignitaries and anyone who enjoyed a modicum of discretion. Multiple brothel and hotel staff had come out for smoke breaks in the past two hours, yet not one of them had bothered to properly shut or lock the door.

"H." Chato's voice crackled in Luke's ear. If he was breaking radio silence, it meant the target was out of earshot. "I think she's gonna run."

"Yeah." He nodded, stepped inside the corridor and pulled the door closed behind him. The warmth of the building washed over him, a sudden burst of heat that sapped away the bitter cold. According to Wilkes' maps, a set of stairs lay around the corner. Hobbs found them and took them up to the second floor, positioning himself behind the stairwell door. "She's rabbiting."

If she came upstairs, he wanted to be there to cut her off. Fusco was already in position in a room further along the corridor and had been for a while. A fake Afrikaner accent and a wad of cash had gotten him a room with no questions asked well before Elizabeth's shift started. Wilkes, on the other hand, was holed up in the building next door, watching live feeds from the brothel's own internal security system.

With Chato and Macroy behind her, he and Fusco above and ahead of her, the team was in position. Now all Hobbs had to do was listen and wait for the right moment to burst out and slap a pair of cuffs on her.

Downstairs, Elizabeth took the first corridor on her left and paused just a few feet from the end. Her backpack was in her office, passport and cash stashed within it, along with a switchblade and spare pair of boots in case she needed to do some serious running. She'd have to grab it on her way through else there was no chance of her making it out of the country. Out of sight and well out of hearing range, Elizabeth slid her cellphone free, dialled a number and resumed walking. Seconds later, the call connected as she returned her phone to her pocket.

"I need you to hack the CCTV and run a background check."

"Hello to you too."

"Someone somewhere has screwed up because I've got Feds on my arse." She afforded herself a glance over her shoulder. The corridor still seemed empty and, when Elizabeth lifted her earpiece away from her ear, there was no noise bar the sound of herself breathing. "I don't know who they are but they don't feel right."

"First things first: stop panicking."

"Remember just who it is you're talking to," Elizabeth spat. "We had an agreement! I burn my bridges, you keep the target off my back. This situation doesn't reflect too well on your ability to do your job, Cipher."

"Now you really sound like your brother. How is he, by the way? I haven't—"

She cursed under her breath and ripped the earpiece out, stuffing it in her breast pocket as she walked. The last thing she needed right now was to get in an argument with the woman who paid her. Up ahead sat the elevator, like a solid steel cage ready to imprison her. The indicator said it was presently on the second floor. Elizabeth jabbed the call button and waited, her right foot tapping a slow rhythm on the carpet. Moments later, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

A shiver ran down her spine when she stepped in. It was empty and the hatch sealed shut. No signs of tampering or use. She pressed the button for the second floor and closed her eyes, grip tight on the rail beside her. The question of her paranoia remained first and foremost in her mind as the elevator came to life. If she was wrong then the men would be sitting there when she came back. If not . . . someone had to warn him.

Because if they'd found her, made the connections necessary to even know she was in Moscow — to learn her birth name — then they could sure as shit find her brother.

The ding sounded once again and the doors slid open. Elizabeth opened her eyes, stepping out into the corridor. She turned left, away from the fire exit, then swiped her card over the reader on her office door. The lock clicked. Elizabeth pushed the door open and reached in, grabbing her backpack from where it sat just to the right of the doorway.

She propped the door open with her foot and slipped the backpack on, giving her office one last forlorn look. The desk where she skimmed money and called it 'transaction fees' sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by shelves and books. A coffee mug with a flaming dagger and the words 'who dares wins' printed on it sat beside the monitor. It'd been a gift, a perk of being his sister; a reminder from home of exactly why she'd come back to this godforsaken city.

And now she would leave it all—

Elizabeth jerked her head to the left, looking down the corridor. Was she hearing things or had something just creaked? It wasn't the bed-related kind of noise. The rooms were thorough!y soundproofed for a reason, after all. More like a heavy door's hinges or someone stepping on the wrong section of flooring.

"Maybe I am going nuts," she murmured. Her entire body felt frozen as if trapped in that one second she had to decide between fight or flight. Then her eyes landed on the fire exit's door. There was the slightest gap. A thin wisp of light stretched across the carpeted floor, and beside it, a fragment of a cast shadow.

Oh fuck me.

There was someone standing in the stairwell, behind the door.

"Yeah, course I am." Elizabeth lifted her foot from against her office door and let it slide shut. She turned to face the corridor and began walking down it towards the fire exit. With her left hand, she reached into the side netting of her backpack and slipped her switchblade free only to tuck it into her pants' pocket. Better to lose the backpack and keep her life then get caught by clinging to some paperwork. "Haunted building, creepy old men and beautiful women in classy lingerie. What's not going to drive you nuts in this place?"

Keep calm. It could be nothing. Again, something creaked as she passed the emergency exit. Eyes forward, Elizabeth kept a casual pace. Behind her, the creak grew into a whine of metal being pushed open. If she ran now, she'd tip them off. It'd allow her a headstart but as soon as she took that first step, the chase would be on.

"Anna?" A Polish accent came from one of the rooms ahead of her. Sofya stuck her head out into the corridor and smiled as Elizabeth neared. She was a beautiful woman from head to toe with waist-length black hair, pale skin and intelligent blue eyes. Sofya beat her at chess every time they played without fail. "There are no more clients?"

"None." She kissed Sofya on the cheek. "We're closing early tonight."

"Good. But what about your friend? Is he going to join us?"

Hand on his revolver, Luke glared at Elizabeth. If she so much as twitched, he'd have Fusco come charging out of his room in a heartbeat. This wasn't going to end well for her, Luke knew that much, but there was always the option of making it easy on them both. "Don't make me chase you, Shaw!"

"I promise I'll call you, Milaya," she murmured. The five seconds that Elizabeth could've wasted looking over her shoulder were instead spent breaking into a run. Whoever he was, he had an American accent, and going off the 'my interest is piqued' look on Sofya's face, he was big.

"Fusco!"

He burst out from one of the rooms behind her as she ran, grabbing ahold of her backpack and pulling, trying to throw her off-balance. Elizabeth grunted, struggled to pivot on her right foot and keep her balance while slipping her arm completely free of the strap. Instinctively, she knew she was in a bad position: her body was tipping one way and she was trying to throw herself in the other direction. Her legs were faltering, the weight of a grown black man in body armour dragging her down.

The moment she felt herself tip far enough, she shifted all her weight to her left leg and slipped her arm free. At the same time, Elizabeth lunged to the right, throwing herself away from him. She slammed into the corridor wall, bounced off it and kept moving, even as the click of a gun's safety sounded behind her.

Fusco took aim. "Don't move!"

"Elizabeth Shaw, you're under arrest." Hobbs approached from behind her, his revolver drawn and firmly gripped in both hands. Perhaps Shaw hadn't noticed the situation but she was outnumbered two to one. "Put your hands on your head and get on your knees."

I don't think so. Elizabeth grit her teeth, kept on moving despite the clear image in her head of someone holding a gun. She wasn't going to end up back there again. Not now, not ever. The past could stay where it belonged. She rushed down the corridor, head down, arms hugged to her side. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline and fear washing over her as heavy, rapid footsteps began echoing in the corridor.

"You keep running and this only ends one way, Shaw!"

One way? That was doubtful. He wasn't the only person carrying a weapon, even if hers required her to get close. One good shot at his femoral artery and he'd be dead quicker than he could sing the American anthem.

Elizabeth dodged around a cleaning cart outside one of the rooms, slamming into a wall as her shoes skidded on the carpet. She pushed herself off, trying to remember the map she'd seen in her boss's office once upon a time. Somewhere in a room up ahead was a concealed corridor that connected to the building next door. All she had to do was get there.

"Nitchka? Why are you—" Instead of finishing her sentence, Yuliya screamed. She stood in the doorway, leaning the top half of her body out as if to see what was going on. There! That was the room, and it seemed it was currently occupied.

She lunged for the open door and slipped past the prostitute, grabbing Yuliya's arm and tugging her inside as she went. There was no time for pleasantries. The door slowly closed behind them while Elizabeth returned Yuliya to the bed in the middle of the room. "I'm really sorry, I'll call you, I promise!"

"You always say that, Anna."

"I mean it!"

The built-in closet was situated in the corner, the door closed. She fumbled with the handle, pulled it open and stepped inside. There were no clothes, only a large well-lit space and—

No. God, no. There was no escape route, no concealed door, only bricks. Elizabeth slammed her fists against the brick, as if expecting it to pivot on a concealed hinge, but nothing moved.

She pulled free the switchblade in her pocket and flicked it open, positioning herself against the wall to the right of the door. It seemed she'd be taking the other option. If this American fed thought he'd survive the night, he was wrong. Either she left this room alive and kicking or she made certain he didn't.

Before the door could close completely, Hobbs jammed his foot in the remaining gap and stopped it. "I know you're in there, Shaw!"

Elizabeth fumbled with her earpiece and returned it to her ear. It wouldn't take the Fed long to find her. "Tell me you didn't hang up," she whispered. "If you're listening, they're Feds and they know my name . . . I think I'm done."

Luke entered the room, giving the half-naked woman on the bed an apologetic smile as he approached the closet with his arms extended in front of him. In response, she glared at him and pulled the sheets up over her waist to cover herself. "Come peacefully and no one gets hurt."

The only one who would be getting hurt was him. Elizabeth adjusted her grip on the switchblade and crouched, angling the blade upwards. She'd only have one shot at him, two if she took him by surprise. Whatever happened, the end result would be her freedom. Prison, death — they weren't options tonight. Elizabeth had served her time and she had no intentions of serving any more.

The closet door creaked as Luke pushed the handle down and forward. He cracked it open half an inch then used his foot to push it open the rest of the way. The left side of the doorway was clear, the rear of the room clear, but the right? No. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to notice the doorknob hadn't touched the wall. Luke turned as she lunged, shoving his revolver into her face while the blade in her hand found his thigh.

"You put that away and no one has to know you just tried to kill an American federal agent."

"I think I'll take my chances," Elizabeth said.

The barrel was cold against the tip of her nose but anger overrode everything, including fear. Elizabeth applied pressure, more than enough to slice through the thin material of his pants. Whatever gear he was wearing couldn't be too thick or it would obstruct his ability to run. She lifted her head to look up at him, flinching as the revolver grazed her face further. The Fed was tall, well over six feet, and wide. Broad shoulders, muscles and brown skin. His body armour seemed to strain itself in order to protect him. God, who the hell was this guy?

"Too bad I'm not taking any." Luke wrapped his fingers around her wrist and squeezed. Not so hard as to shatter bone, but hard enough that she'd—

She angled the blade downwards, pressing even harder. In one smooth movement, she'd cut straight through all that muscle and twist the blade, rip him apart. "I'd take this one if I were you."

"Drop the knife or I break your hand and you never make another bomb again."

The look in his eyes promised he'd do exactly what he said. A broken hand wasn't that bad a thing. She could handle the pain. It'd be one sudden burst and then a dull ache till it was fixed. Injuries were better than talking. Death better than imprisonment. Her hand twitched, lifting the blade slightly, ready to thrust it forward and cut this bastard open.

Just as fast, Hobbs adjusted his grip and dislocated her thumb. Shaw yelled through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at him as he holstered his revolver. He slid a pair of handcuffs free, hooking one bracelet around Shaw's right hand. Twisting her left wrist, he slapped the other bracelet on her and secured it.

"Don't make me carry you."

Carry her? She'd make him drag her corpse out of the brothel if it came down to it. Elizabeth kept her grip on the knife despite the throbbing pain. If this American gun-toting cliche-loving bastard thought a bad finger would stop her, he clearly hadn't read her file.

"No smartass comment? Your brother Owen is involved in some bad shit and you're the one who's been supplying him, so sooner or later we are going to talk about where he is."

Owen? Son of a—He knew Owen's name, and that meant he knew what Owen was doing. Just how screwed were they? She had to get some kind of warning to her brother. Tell him the Americans were coming and that whatever he was doing, he needed to do it fast then disappear like planned.

"I want my phone call." Her father's words echoed in her mind as the Fed pried the blade free from her grip. If you're ever arrested, say nothing. You keep your mouth closed and call me. You may not like it, little wolf, but the world is cruel and untrustworthy.

"Unfortunately, you don't get one. Now walk," Hobbs said, "or this time I won't be so gentle."

Gentle? Elizabeth scoffed and stood firm, refusing to budge. Was this some kind of rendition? Had Cipher set her up to take the fall?

"Elizabeth Shaw, you're under arrest on conspiracy to commit an act of terrorism, money laundering, falsification of documents, and being a pain in my ass."

"Those charges are bullshit." They made no sense. Money laundering and forgery, sure, but terrorism? She was no monster. Even the blood she'd willingly dipped her hands into had left its permanent scars on her psyche. "I'm not going to Gitmo or any other prison. You want to drop me down a hole? You better make sure I can't crawl out of it or else I'll be coming straight for you."

"Oh don't you worry about that, Princess. The hole I'm dropping you down, even Sadako couldn't crawl outta it."

Chapter Text

Los Angeles. Present day.

"Say 'hi, Papa'," Elena said, waving Marcus' hand gently. She'd sat him on her hip till he finally stopped fussing and decided he liked the view. With Dom back from a trip to Greece, she'd taken it upon herself to give him every chance to spend quality time with his son. So far, Marcus was loving it.

Already just weeks short of properly walking without assistance, Marcus was getting into all kinds of mischief. He'd climbed his way into a kitchen cupboard without Mia noticing and closed it on himself, leaving them in a panic till Brian pointed out the pant leg hanging beneath the door.

Dom's chest swelled at the sight of him. Though it'd been less than two days since they last saw each other, Dom swore he'd grown half an inch and gained three pounds. Parading his son around on his shoulders would have to wait till later once Brian and Mia arrived with Jack and Sophie. "Hey, Marcus, you wanna come watch Daddy and Letty fix his car?"

"Papa!" Marcus stretched his arms out, straining as if to jump between their arms. Elena lifted him forward and Dom swept him up, allowing Marcus to start tugging on Dom's silver crucifix necklace. "Papa, car!"

There was no way to ever truly make up for lost time, but seeing Dom like this eased her fears; and seeing Letty with Marcus was even more reassuring. Elena slid a blue bag off her shoulder and handed it to Dom as well. "Hobbs has taken another trip down south, and I've got to cover his shift. Can you look after him for the weekend?"

"Elena, he's our son. I didn't let either of you die on that plane and I won't let any harm come to the both of you now." Dom squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and smiled, even as Marcus decided to start poking him in the side of the neck. Seeing her in Cipher's photo, her clutching Marcus while Rhodes stood to the side with a gun to her head, had angered him at first. It wasn't just the threat to her life, or the threat to the baby; nor was it Cipher's gall to walk up to him and blackmail him into betraying his family. Elena had fallen pregnant and never told him, but after the first few days of playing the events of the past few years over in his head and wondering how all of this happened, he calmed down. Letty had returned to his life so suddenly, ending the hollow pain he'd been feeling, and Elena had walked away without so much as hearing a thank you from him.

A thank you for being there, for being the first person in a long time to completely understand his pain; for giving him someone to talk to who shared the unfortunate experience of losing the most important person in their world; and for not trying to force him into being someone he wasn't. Her words still echoed in his mind sometimes, and God help him, Dom wished he could've returned the favour. If that was my husband, Elena had said that morning, staring at the photo of Letty, if there was a chance.

"I packed plenty of diapers, formula," Elena said, gesturing to the bag, "he's been getting diaper rash lately, so his legs might still be sore."

He nodded and switched Marcus to his left arm then stepped forward and hugged her. "Promise me you won't go jumping out of any buildings today. Hey, Letty, guess who's helping build the car!"

Elena waved as Letty walked out of the garage. Things had begun as awkward between them when Letty first watched her and Marcus with Dom, till they talked it out. She'd been officially dead for months and Dom was alone, still grappling with how to survive now that his heart's burning flame was extinguished. It didn't take an idiot to see Dom was better for the experiences, regardless of how strange Letty felt being around Dom when Elena and Marcus were also.

"How's he been at night?" Letty said, grabbing a tyre off the stack. Hair tied back in a bun and gloves still on, she looked every part the badass mechanic momma she'd begun to feel like. With Brian and Mia running the cafe, their life was stabilising once more. "Last week he wouldn't settle at night."

"He's started teething again, so he's grumpy come the afternoons." Elena waved to Marcus and said her goodbyes before heading for her car parked out front. She'd left a note in the bag for Dom, telling him exactly where Hobbs had gone in case things went south. Everybody at the DSS loved to act as if he could cover his own ass without issue on hunts, but she knew better than most. Losing his team in Brazil had left Luke vulnerable, and Hicks' following betrayal had only buried a protective instinct to mistrust further inside him. Whatever happened, Elena hoped Dom would have his back when the storm began again.

"And I'm telling you, you can't sell woof tickets to people with experience, kid," Luke said. He closed his eyes and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, trying to rid himself of the sticky feeling. A dark stain had already formed along the front of his tank and over his ribs. The humidity he could deal with, being stuck in a car with Eric on the other hand was starting to try his patience. "You don't walk up to someone in a prison and play ball like that, or have you forgotten the last time you tried that tactic?"

He hadn't forgotten being planked against a brick wall, he merely chose not to bring it up. Hobbs had six inches and about ninety pounds on him — it was somewhat unfair to compare that mildly traumatising experience to this venture. Little Nobody crossed his arms and stared out the front windshield as they followed the highway down towards the western landing point. The ferry would be waiting for them at the docks, and from there they'd make their way across the bay. "My bargaining chip is going to work, Hobbs. Give me twenty minutes and we'll be on our way."

"This is gonna be embarrassing. Fine, twenty minutes, then I go in."

"One question," Mr. Nobody spoke up from the front passenger seat. "Did you call to confirm your target is still down there, Eric?"

Luke said nothing. He'd made a call weeks ago and learnt of a lawyer's intervention two and a half years ago. According to Ramsey, the target now lived somewhere in Santa Clara.

"It's Gitmo, the most secure prison in the world," Little Nobody said, gesturing to the distant bay. At least I think it is. God, I screwed up bad. "You can't escape from there, it's an island surrounded by water."

"So was Alcatraz, but you can walk out of there if you have connections and a lawyer." Luke stretched his arms out and smiled to himself. If 'Little Nobody' didn't start thinking ahead, that fresh baby shit smell was going to linger for a while. "Might wanna call for a plane, Junior, or would you prefer a three hundred and forty mile drive?"

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"Oh don't get your panties in a knot," Mr. Nobody said, glancing over his shoulder. The look on Eric's face said he wasn't impressed, and the smirk on Luke's said their wake-up call had worked like a charm. It'd been nothing shot of a miracle Eric realised there were no rules come New York. "I told you we wouldn't be taking our time. A plane will be ready and waiting once we cross the bay. We'll be landing at a private airfield in Santa Clara; you'll have your chance then, kid."

He sat up and focused on the folder wedged between the gearstick and Mr. Nobody's seat. It'd been sitting there the entire trip, staring him in the face. Knowing what his boss's attitude was towards privacy, Eric had left it alone. Now he wondered if that was the file on their target, or simply another red herring. "Santa Clara? The target stayed in Cuba?"

Hobbs shook his head in disbelief. Why had Nobody entertained this kid for so long? He was clearly out of his depth yet insisted he had a single clue as to how life played out. His stupidity had nearly gotten them killed last time. Rushing headfirst into a fight with Toretto, Luke had almost smacked him upside the head afterwards for screwing up and opening that exit. "Do you even know who we came here to pick up?"

"Mr. Nobody said get in the car, I got in the car. He said bring your best sales pitch, I brought it. Who's the target?"

"The usual criminal type." Luke snatched up the file and dumped it in Eric's lap. Having to work with goddamn newbies after all these years made him wish he'd just taken Toretto down that day in Brazil, wrench or no wrench, and gotten out with his own team alive. If Fusco, Wilkes, Mac, and Chato, had been here, he would've already had his target in cuffs again and been having tea and crumpets in celebration.

Reisner didn't talk to him for the rest of the trip, allowing Luke a comfortable silence. He watched Eric's face transition from curiosity to concern then outright unease and worry as he read the file in the car. Each time he flicked back to the first page, Luke heard him mutter something that sounded like 'this wasn't in his file.'

No, it wasn't. He'd dug through all those files looking for Owen Shaw the first time, only coming across a small note from the late eighties by chance. It'd been shoved in with a pile of loose papers down the bottom, easy to miss if you weren't willing to individually read each sheet. After checking the holes, Luke found the police report it belonged to.

Filed only as a complaint with no charges laid, it detailed how Nikolai Dmitrovich — the owner of a corner shop near the Shaw family's council estate home — had suffered a spate of small thefts. Mostly just food off the shelf, a camera; nothing worth much, till the thieves decided to up their game. The last straw for Dmitrovich was the cash register itself at midnight, albeit with an empty tray.

The note itself read: DI Hedgeway translated for the sister after she claimed she didn't speak English. Owen denied they're related and called her the whore's child. She says he's been getting involved with the St. Thomas gang.

"How'd we miss this?" Eric said, stepping from the car with his nose still in the file. He glanced up to align himself with Nobody's footsteps and kept walking in the direction of the plane that awaited them. "I did my research: Deckard Shaw's military file lists a deceased father, unknown mother, and a brother. Owen's reflects that."

"Read it again, you'll find your answer." Luke took the flight stairs two at a time and proceeded to quickly find a seat by the window. He'd dropped her off that day without a word, leaving it to Chato to walk her into the facility. How the lawyer had figured out where she was was anyone's guess, but sure enough one of Chato's buddies said a woman turned up one day, made a phone call while standing in the entrance foyer, and Shaw was released within half an hour.

"I've read it twice, Hobbs."

"She's not on government documents because she wasn't born in the UK, kid," Mr. Nobody said, ending Hobbs' guessing game. For all Eric's improvements over the past few months, he still had a few things to learn that'd only come with experience and time. "God's Eye and Toretto are the best chance we have of taking the Shaws and Cipher down."

Luke feigned disinterest as Mr. Nobody went into the details of the planned op. Deckard had chosen to go completely underground, along with Owen. A deal had been struck and so far it was being kept to, aside from their monitoring of the Shaws. Luke couldn't help but feel that screwing Deckard over now would only go against them if his services were required for Cipher's removal from the planet. The longer it took to find her, the more certain he became that Deckard would be that necessary of evils.

"Everything alright, love?"

She glanced over her shoulder then went back to focusing on beating the egg whites. Her right bicep and shoulder ached from the constant circular motion but Elizabeth persisted, choosing to vent through food rather than punch a wall. No, everything wasn't alright; hadn't the old woman noticed the growing pile of baked goods taking over her dining table? There were plates of blini, chak-chak, warm granola bars, bowls of dips, among other things, and now she was in the midst of finishing the zapekanka batter before the cake went in the oven.

"I can still feel my fucking stomach dropping."

One minute she was in South America sleeping with a book on her face, the next there were men in suits hauling her out of bed and throwing her bags at her. She was scheduled to fly to England, they said, at the behest of one Magdalene Shaw. She hadn't heard that name in over seventeen years. Not the type to reject such a . . . well phrased invitation for tea, Elizabeth went with them. The plane ride itself could be summed up as one thing: a hellish nightmare.

"Have a blini," Magdalene said, picking one up and dipping it in a chives and sour cream mix. She'd offered to break out her own biceps, or an electric beater, but Elizabeth refused and said her whisking ability was great. Her folding technique, Magdalene noted to much inner amusement, needed improving. "Your mum teach you to cook?"

"No, a nice old lady named Marya. Mum —" she tipped the batter into the greased and crumb-lined pan, evened it out, and shoved it in the oven "— Mum died the week Dad flew me here. He never told you?"

"I didn't want to know," Magdalene said. She'd called her sons twice, telling them to get their arses over there and be quick about it. The sooner they arrived, the sooner she could get down to business. "Would've killed him that night if he hadn't said you was only six. It's what I got for thinking he'd be capable of keeping his pants on after the first time."

"You wanna tell me why I'm here? I never had nothing to do with you or them after I moved back home. Didn't want to." Till Deckard called out of the blue and told her about Cipher, convinced her to try and be a 'good sister' and protect Owen; because that always turned out really well. "Still don't."

"They're your brothers, Lizzy, you ain't got much of a choice, and this family takes care of its own."

She snorted and muttered 'course they do', earning a whack to the shoulder with a solid wooden spoon. Elizabeth ignored the momentary pain, along with the kiss on the cheek that followed. What, did she just expect them to see each other and play happy family? Smile and pose for the Christmas photo that'd wind up on the mantle place.

Magdalene patted her on the shoulder reassuringly and said, "I'm glad you're here, sweetheart. Makes it feel like we're all living together again."

Your goons put a gun to my face and forced me out of my home, she thought, stacking the dirty bowls in the sink and washing her hands before she walked out to the living room. Ain't got much of a choice is right.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later but she ignored it, opting to sit on the couch cross-legged and rest her head on the arm of it. She could still feel the nausea creeping up on her, the stomach acid stinging her throat serving as a reminder there was a completely valid reason her feet usually remained on the ground. "Mags, who is it?"

"Just me." He walked into the living room and dropped down on the couch next to her. Hair cut short back and sides as was military standard, he looked every bit the soldier she imagined he'd once been. His eyes betrayed nothing, not even the surprise he felt at seeing his sister. "It's nice to see you, I guess."

"Sod off, Owen."

"You on your —"

Before he could finish his sentence, she punched him in the arm and got to her feet. "Act your age, not your shoe size. Where's Deckard?"

"He's on his way."

Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief and immediately retreated to the kitchen. Deckard would be in his old role of peace keeper for as long as it took their mother to cut to the chase and stop messing about. Whatever the true reason for their gathering, it'd be down to her eldest brother once more to stop them from killing each other. As nice as it probably was for Magdalene, she had no interest in being part of some bullshit happy family illusion.

Chapter Text

"Mia," Marcus shrieked, clapping his hands and wriggling to break free of Dom's arms as she and Brian walked up the driveway. He waved his arms and shouted Jack and Sophie's names, stumbling towards them once he was finally let down. Marcus pointed towards the garage and grinned. "Car!"

"Sophie, be nice to Marcus," Mia said, recognising the look of mischief on her daughter's face. It'd been Marcus who'd climbed into the pantry that day, but Sophie was the ringleader who told him to do it. "No biting."

"She's biting again?" Dom said warily, watching as the three kids walked towards the garage where Letty would be stretched out on a creeper, working on the rear axle. Baby bag on his shoulder, he was yet to go through everything and see whether Elena had packed Marcus's blue American muscle outfit. There was also the matter of the small Union Jack boxing gloves Deckard had bought him, and his surprising attachment to them.

"It happened once," Brian explained, sitting down on the back step that led to the kitchen. Dom wasn't getting much sleep lately, according to Letty, and she wasn't sure if she was just imagining it but he was also having the occasional nightmare. Whatever had happened up on that plane left a scar on Dom's psyche. "Momma's just being cautious. Hey Dom, you wanna show me the new paint job?"

"It's upstairs." Dom could've sworn he'd already sent Brian a photo after its completion, but photos could never live up to the real thing. "Mia, tell Letty —"

Mia smiled and gestured for them to go inside. "Marcus will be fine, Dom."

He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. Every time he saw Marcus and Elena, he wondered how long it would be before they were ripped out of his life and trapped in a glass box again. Dom wiped the sweat from his forehead and led Brian upstairs to the small room he and Letty had converted into Marcus's bedroom and play area. On the wall next to his cot was a painting of Race Wars: flags, cars, cheering girls, smoking tyres, the whole quarter mile.

"You did a great job, man," Brian said, amazed by the detail. His fingers grazed over the Dodge in all its beauty, and what looked like a miniature Dom in the driver's seat. "Whose idea was it?"

"Letty did most of it. I only took care of the undercoat and waterproofing, and Letty's actually. I was thinking one big car so when he sits up in bed, he looks like he's driving, but she thought Race Wars would be better."

Brian nodded and stepped back, chuckling when he saw a pair of toddler-size boxing gloves hanging over the cot. If Dom had told him two years ago that he'd find himself being amicable with the bastard who'd killed Han and blown the Toretto home up, Brian probably would've tried to knock some sense into him. No one had seen Shaw since that barbeque, leaving him glad the situation was seemingly resolved. It also meant there'd be no clash over Dom's not killing him when he had the chance.

Dom covered his yawn and blinked away the physical and mental exhaustion he felt, opting to sit on a large chair he'd bought for when Marcus got fussy and refused to sleep. "How was the DR?"

"It's nice. Not as nice as here, but Jack likes the beach so we got him swimming lessons. You should really get some sleep, Dom, you look like you're about to pass out."

He nodded, sitting the bag on his lap and unzipping it so as to start sorting through Marcus's stuff. A strong cup of coffee would have to wait till they were downstairs. Stretching out on the couch and letting his sore legs relax would've been nice too if not for his son's presence. "I've been working on the car a lot, trying to fix it up so we can install a baby seat in the back and take Marcus down to Race Wars. Hector says it's not the same without us, and he wants to meet Marcus. Everyone does."

"Is that all?"

Seeing the look of concern on Brian's face, Dom sighed and shook his head. Talking about his feelings had never been his strong suit. He wasn't interested in therapy or counselling, only in continuing his life, focusing on the future, while simultaneously accepting the past and putting it all behind him. "I keep dreaming about it. About Elena, and Cipher. She nearly — they nearly died because of me. Gisele and Han both died because I needed their help . . . and my son would've died just so Cipher could spite me. How do I live with that, Brian?"

Brian clenched his fists and kept them by his sides, focusing on verbally knocking some sense into Dom rather than physically. The look on his face was one of raw anger, jaw set and teeth grit. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and an ache was beginning to form in his chest at the mere idea that Dom could blame himself for what'd happened. "Dom, none of that is your fault! Their deaths aren't on you. Gisele? She died because Hobbs couldn't do his job properly. Han was murdered so that piece of shit could send a message, and he nearly killed all of us too, you included. None of this will ever be your fault."

"I dreamt she killed Marcus last night," Dom admitted. It was a horrible dream that never seemed to quite go away. Its unwanted return in his mind had left him waking up with a foul taste in his mouth and shaky hands. Luckily, Letty slept through them all. He'd dreamt it three times now, and being able to recall specific details only made him hurt that much more. "Cipher said if I killed her, her men would storm the room and kill Marcus. I dream I never have enough bullets to stop them all."

"But you did, Dom, you stopped Rhodes."

They finally landed in Santa Clara after two hours. From there, it was just a matter of driving till they reached Santa Catalina ward and an old sandstone building. Perhaps it was just luck, but the manager of the building intercepted Luke before he could get either a word in edgewise or a foot into the apartment itself, asking for a key deposit and four weeks in advance if they wanted to move in. Eventually, he got the conversation to turn, allowing Little Nobody to step up to the plate.

"Men in suits," Eric said in English so Hobbs and Nobody could follow along, nodding as the manager continued in Spanish what sounded like a story he'd just made up on the spot. "And you saw them take her out? Can you describe her?"

Hobbs handed over a fifty dollar bill to loosen the guy's lips without hesitation. The woman was average height, dark brown hair, white and didn't tan very well; she'd been living there two years paying rent every two weeks, fixing radios and lamps for spare change. The men themselves — of which there were six — sounded British, and had called her by a name the manager didn't recognise: Shaw.

"What the hell does this mean?" Eric said, after paying the manager to let them inside the apartment. It was small, with a sofa bed shoved against one wall and a kitchen window that looked out onto the street. From the sink, he could see their car parked below. A single chair and table sat in the centre of the room, with a small toolbox beneath it. "You think Cipher found her first?"

"Could be her brothers decided to come collect her," Mr. Nobody said, opening cupboard doors to find a bag of unlabeled grains along with four tins with the labels torn off. He felt blindly along the inside wall of the cupboard and the top, till he touched something plastic and began working it free of the tape holding it against the wall. "Found one of her stashes."

Loose floorboard, Luke realised as one creaked under his weight while he walked towards the bathroom. He pushed down slightly with his toes and the opposite end of it lifted, allowing him to get his fingers in the gap and remove the timber. Manager says it's her, but why do I feel like this is a setup? You don't get out of prison then stay in the country unless you're stupid . . . or you've been meeting someone. That private airfield's only two hour's drive away.

Luke tossed his phone to Little Nobody before reaching down into the gap beneath the floorboards. "Call Ramsey, tell her to pull up any and all security cameras in the country and filter for Cipher's face."

"You think the target's working with Cipher?" Eric queried. If they were, this was going to be one awkward Jerry Springer-esque reunion once they brought them all in.

"Someone had to pull strings to free her. Tell Ramsey to track the Shaw brothers too, I don't want them sneezing without us knowing if they wipe it on their sleeve."

Luke reached further along before his fingers brushed the handle of a lockbox. Finally something solid. It didn't feel too heavy, he noted, and caught it with one finger to drag it forward, allowing him to get a better grip and lift it out. Sweat gathered on the tip of his nose then dripped down onto his bottom lip while his heart began to pound in anticipation. With no padlock securing it, he cracked the box open and lifted a blanket off the top. Thank God. Hobbs let out a sigh of relief when he found only a pile of tools, three bundles of cash, and no bombs in sight.

"You could also send in a tactical squad before they have a chance to run. They have skills we could use, Luke. If Elizabeth is in contact with Cipher, it's simply a matter of pushing her till she breaks."

"That only works if you grab all three at once." Owen Shaw was two steps short of being a full-blown psychopath, not to mention the complete opposite of someone he'd ever want to work with. Deckard's Victoria Cross recommendation showed him to at least possess a streak of decency and courage, and yet to no one's surprise it didn't erase the recent past. "Shaw has to be in contact with her. There's no way she'd get this kind of money without help."

"It'll only take a phone call," Mr. Nobody said, reaching into his pocket for his cell. "We need a better lead than some possible sightings."

"You never did fix that mirror," Eric said, a smug look on his face. "I think you owe it to Shaw to at least help him repair that car."

They had a point about better leads. The car, not so much. Hobbs would never regret pushing that sumbitch's buttons. Nor was it as simple as pushing her till she broke. He'd tried that already. "Make the call, but Owen gets put in a cell immediately. He's not to be anywhere near the other two, and after it's done, they land in the cells next to him."

Cipher corrupted him and left him for dead. So, if I get a shot to take her down, believe me, Flex, I'm taking it. They were words Deckard was going to live by if he had his chance, and God help him, he'd be the one to do it. As he pulled into the driveway, he ignored his buzzing phone on the dash and the word 'Mum' displayed on the screen. Bloody hell, how many times was she going to call? It'd taken him two hours just to drive down from his apartment up north, and another forty minutes just to navigate traffic and get to her house.

"Next time you don't pick up that phone, we'll be having words, Deckard Nicholas," Magdalene said, walking up to his car. To no surprise, it was an old camo-green Defender. He'd bought it for two thousand pounds in the mid nineties and proceeded to restore it to its former glory. "I see you're still driving this thing around."

"It's reliable." He parked it and stepped out, tugging his jacket down to conceal the pistol strapped to the small of his back. With the sky dark and half the street lights out, odds were no one would see it. Still, it wasn't a risk he was willing to take. Most situations never called for it, but subconsciously he was relieved to be armed. Sometimes a bullet could make all the difference. Deckard smiled and moved to hug her, feigning ignorance of the curtains shifting in the window and the shadow cast against them. Of course they were being watched. "It's good to see you, Mum," he said finally. "Is Owen here yet?."

"He's inside." She hadn't told him about the third member of their little search party. No, that — that would be a surprise. It'd been hard enough tracking their sister down, relying only on interpersonal connections and phone calls, but once the net closed around her the task was reduced to a simple snatch and grab. "Just watch out, he's in one of his moods."

Deckard huffed. Owen was always in one of his moods. If he wasn't pissed about the Toretto deal, he was getting in their faces about not killing him and cleaning up the mess. What could he say? Hearing the effect his so-called death had on Hobbs, well that changed a few things. He'd never imagined Hobbs would punch a steel door, nor that he'd dent it. Getting Deckard to admit he liked the man would take a miracle in and of itself; respecting Luke, on the other hand, was a given.

Inside, Owen frowned, one hand braced against the wall and the other parting the curtains while he watched for any other arrivals. Why him? As much as they fought, he'd hoped it would just be them. Deckard was always the third wheel in these situations and it showed. He looked over his shoulder, checking she hadn't bolted while no one was looking. Owen wouldn't blame her if she had. Their mother was quite a handful. "Deck's here."

Elizabeth glanced up then went back to staring at the rug beneath her feet. This entire farce was turning out to be more awkward than expected. First Owen, now Deckard, and their mother — what was she even doing here? Family reunions didn't usually involve this much tension, or so she'd been led to believe. "What happened to your face?"

Mum hadn't told her already? He sighed and said, "I was thrown from a crashing plane and hit by burning fuselage. I ended up in a coma."

She'd hoped it was a lie, that Cipher had just been trying to make her feel better about her so-called stupid choices, but that was his cold hard truth tone of voice, and the way he clenched his jaw said it all. For all her attempts at covering his arse, he'd nearly lost his life. Elizabeth cringed and tried to suppress the sudden feeling of heaviness forming in her chest. She knew it was plenty capable of pushing her into a guilt-ridden tunnel, but that relied on her feeling guilt in the first place.

"What about you?" he said, moving away from the window. She was wringing her shirt in her hands, the steaming mug on the coffee table in front of her untouched. Owen lifted it and gestured. She responded with a shrug and he took a sip, savouring the taste of freshly pressed coffee. This was the real stuff, not that cheap swill people drank. "Last I remember you lived in Moscow."

"I got swept up in problems that weren't mine and sent to prison again." She didn't want to play the blame game, nor dump all her issues in his lap. It was partially his fault for getting involved with Cipher in the first place, and the rest lay with her for caring enough to get involved in things that didn't directly affect her. "Eventually strings were pulled and I was released, but I'm never getting those eighteen months back."

"Why?" Deckard said, walking into the living room and taking a seat. Jacket folded over his arm, his black AC/DC tank exposed a small mass of scar tissue on his sternum. The look on her face was one of irritation, but Owen's repeated clenching and unclenching of his fists didn't bode well. "Why'd you have to go and stick your nose in? I thought we taught you better."

"Does it matter?" Owen snapped, glaring daggers at Deckard. Of course he'd take the high road. Their brother would never admit to being wrong, or that he didn't know everything. Deckard was the one who'd joined the ranks of the elite within the SAS, and his ego grew alongside the chevrons on his shoulder. "Not everything's a life lesson."

"Because you asked me to." Elizabeth stood and took a step towards Deckard, ignoring the way he sat forward. Whether he was armed or not, it'd make no difference. She'd still try to tear him a new one, and he'd hiptoss her into the floor. "Or don't you remember making Owen's business mine? You're the one who approached me to help you convince him to walk away."

"Huh. That's not the way I remember it," Deckard said, feigning confusion. He noticed the look on Magdalene's face and scowled. Why couldn't Beth just shut her mouth? Sibling business had nothing to do with their mother. "You sure all that time in prison hasn't messed with your head?"

"You want to gaslight me?" she said, taking up position in front of him. She leaned down and rested her hands on the couch either side of his head. There was a fire in her eyes that said she wasn't messing around, nor was she afraid of him and his skill set. "Go ahead, try it. I'll bury you like I did Dmitri. That son of a bitch got his due, and so will you."

"Lizzy, sit your arse down. Now that's enough out of the lot of you." Magdalene said. "Two of you couldn't take Cipher down, perhaps three of you can. That's why you're here. The Americans think she's in Greece."

"Good luck with that, Mum. Two of us already had part of our lives stolen 'cause of her." He gave Elizabeth a knowing look but said nothing. The idea that she could slip anything by him was laughable, but he'd give her credit: she'd taken it in her stride and never hesitated in protecting him. "If Deckard wants to go after her, he's more than welcome, but don't count me in."

Magdalene chuckled. She'd expected at least one of them to rebel. It being Owen was a surprise, yet not. As he'd said, part of his life — their lives? — had been wasted because of Cipher. "Did it sound like I was giving any of you a choice?"

"See you 'round, Mrs. Shaw." Elizabeth pushed off the couch and walked towards the door, never allowing her anger to waiver. Deckard knew she remembered most things exactly as they happened. Suggesting prison had messed with her head? He was practically begging for a flogging. "Thanks for the free ride."

"We're not finished here, Elizabeth. Take a seat, or have a piece of cake. I'll wait till you return to your senses."

"No, I think we are. You want to take down Cipher? Deckard can do it on his own." The sooner she was out the door, the better. "I'm not your daughter, I'm Mikhail's, and your crocodile tears don't work on me."

Owen looked between the two, mostly focused on the tension in Elizabeth's spine. His mother was keeping her cards close to her chest, playing it cool and straight-faced like always. Deckard had once told him that she could sell the Pope a whole new spin on doctrine. He didn't doubt it. Beth, on the other hand, could sell her soul to the Devil and not think twice if she deemed it necessary.

"Alright then, I'll have the boys drop you off at Gitmo. You are a terrorist after all who should've remained locked up." Magdalene smiled, waiting for the one-sided yelling match to begin. She'd always known Lizzy had a temper, as did she, but the difference lay in how they dealt with it. "Seeing as you're a threat to society."

"I'm not going to let you kill someone just because you blame her for your sons' stupidity. Deckard and Owen made their choices. The repercussions are theirs to bear, not mine."

So much for a loss of control. She stood and stepped into Elizabeth's personal space, waiting for the pushback or her to lash out, but there was nothing. Since when did her stepdaughter act like such a conniving manipulative adult, like Owen? There was no outburst of anger, just a constant simmering rage right below the surface. "When did Cipher get to you? In prison? Before prison?"

"She didn't get to me."

"No one else could've pulled those strings to get you out. Certainly wasn't me."

"Get out of my face, suka." The slap that followed was hard enough to rattle her brain and leave a red handprint on her face. Elizabeth flinched but didn't move, shoving her hands in her pockets and taking a breath. It hurt like hell if she was being honest. Even Cipher didn't have a swing like that. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

Magdalene looked between the three of them. The way Deckard was staring at his sister, it was as if he were boring holes in the back of her head. Owen leaned back, head resting on his hand, looking all too smug. What was up with him? And her. She kept talking about choices, something Owen had pushed throughout his years, proclaiming the behaviour of others was never his fault. He never forced anyone to do anything. He couldn't control their actions, only his own. "You sold yourself to her?"

Now she got it. Elizabeth nodded, keeping her arms by her sides. Pain still radiated through the left side of her face, and she was pretty sure that was blood oozing from her nose. It dripped onto her bottom lip, tasting of rust and salt; yep, definitely blood. "Close enough."

Chapter Text

"Niño, ready for your bath?" Letty said, knocking quietly on the door jamb. She poked her head into the room and chuckled at the sight of Marcus asleep, fingers curled around the base of the silver crucifix resting against Dom's chest. It'd been a while since the noise level had dropped and she'd decided to see if her suspicions were correct. Dom was passed out too, arms wrapped around Marcus as if the very thought of letting him go had reached the point of being unbearable.

With just a couple of plates left soaking in the sink, there was little to do but sit around, relax, and watch reruns of Cops. Brian and Mia had gone home earlier than usual, the car in its last stages of restoration didn't need much more than a full tank of gas and a test run, and Dom had finished the vacuuming just before dinner.

Noticing the open baby bag on the floor, Letty grabbed it and hung it off her shoulder while she rifled through its contents, checking for any bottles that needed sterilising. Clothes, diapers and wipes, his usual toys, and —

A piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Letty reached down, picked it up, and turned it over. She recognised Elena's short cursive handwriting instantly. It wasn't a love letter: Hobbs' name in the first sentence and Cipher's in the proceeding told her that much. Unless Dom had fallen for the enemy — which was highly doubtful — something was going down and Hobbs was going to need backup.

Dom,
Hobbs has gone to Cuba with Nobody. He's looking for anyone with links to Cipher and he's one step short of finding her. If something happens, please stop him from getting himself killed. I don't think he's going to do anything stupid, just reckless . . . and I know Luke will never say it, but thank you for not letting him die in the favellas that day.
Elena.
P.S, Marcus likes the gloves more than the car.

Letty resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the postscript. It was certainly going to make Dom even more determined to convert Marcus back to being a Toretto. Five minutes with a Shaw and it was as if he already knew the lyrics to God Save The Queen.

The grumbling cry of a stirring toddler had her ready for anything as Marcus began to wake. A squeak of a fart and the smell that wafted across his bedroom said she was about to have her stamina tested. Letty lifted Marcus free from Dom's arms and carried him and the baby bag out, going straight to the bathroom where Dom had set up the changing table.

"You just had to make a mess while Dad's asleep, huh?" she said, pulling his pants away from his back slightly to reveal the state of his ruined diaper. Oh God, this was full-on bath time now. Whatever had gone through his stomach and come out the other end was now creeping up his backside as he wriggled in her arms.

By the time the bath was ready, the mess had been cleaned up and Marcus was clapping and kicking. Letty lowered him in and the splashing began, chanting 'Mom' as he slid himself around and tried to eject half the water from the bath.

After a few minutes and a proper wash, he was in a red Dodge onesie and laying in his own bed. Dom, on the other hand, was still asleep on the chair with his arms curled around thin air. Letty woke him slowly with a 'hey Papa' and a kiss on the lips.

Dom blinked through the haze of exhaustion and looked up at Letty. The biggest smile formed on his face at the sight of her and he couldn't help but reach up to check she was real. After all this pain and suffering she was still with him. His wife and lover, one of a select few important people who'd chosen to stay instead of leave. Now there was another: Marcus. "Where's —"

"Relax. I gave him a bath and put him to bed. His diaper looked like a bad batch of cake batter and smelt worse than Vince after a week without a shower."

Dom cringed at the mental image and murmured a thank you when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to his feet. Words couldn't express just how happy he'd been since finding her in London, and then Los Angeles — when her memories returned, it was as if the last few years had been wiped away. "I think it's bedtime for me too."

"Or we could go to our room and you can stay up for another hour. I've got all these wet clothes that need to come off." Letty tugged him closer and groaned at the feel of his hands sliding down her hips to her thighs. She loved his hands, those thumbs especially, and that middle and index finger: he could do wonders with those fingers, but nothing beat the feel of his hands squeezing hers while Dom used that magical mouth of his. He lifted her and carried her out of Marcus' bedroom and into theirs. "I think we should start with this shirt."

"You still want that coffee?"

"Please." Ramsey stretched her arms and closed the laptop, setting it aside before she took the offered mug from Tej's hands. As much as she hated the taste, this bitter black swill he made was keeping her wide awake. After her marathon hacking session finished, she'd sleep at midnight and wake up at six like clockwork, then return to her laptop an hour later. "It's been weeks since Cipher pinged my radar. I've accounted for everything and I still can't find her."

He slid onto the bed and stretched out next to her. They could do this, it was just going to take time that the team really couldn't afford to waste. The sooner it was all over, the sooner they could go back to living their normal lives without having to look over their shoulders. "So we change our approach. Find someone who's already in contact with Cipher."

"Which would require finding her first and sniffing any and all packets then tracing them back to their source, seeing as we don't know anyone in contact with her." She'd thought of that, but it relied entirely on luck and timing. Capturing the packets before Cipher had a chance to erase them? They'd have to be on the same network as whoever she was talking to. "If there are any packets left by the time she's done sweeping her trail clean."

Tej groaned. It didn't matter how many satellites they connected to, or who Hobbs called on their behalf, they were still coming up empty. He leaned over and kissed the hollow of her neck, breathing in the lingering scent of her lavender body wash. "Why can't we just go back to the simpler days of drug dealers and stealing safes?"

"Because you'd enjoy it too much." She smirked and set her coffee down on the bedside drawer. If she was being honest, it felt like he was spoiling her some days. The other morning, they'd spent five hours laying in bed and not once had she gotten up to get dressed or make herself a cup of coffee. "Breaking the law is what you do best, isn't it?"

"Oh I can think of a few things I do better than that."

While Deckard eased the engine of his Defender back into place, Owen sat back, spoon in hand and cake tin nestled between his and Elizabeth's legs. When she'd walked in with two spoons instead of one, the cake tin, and a small jug of ganache, his mouth began watering immediately. Whoever thought four in the morning wasn't a perfect time for eating cake had to be a bloody puritan. Owen licked the spoon clean and smiled at Deckard who was now reconnecting everything and wiping the engine down.

"You gonna save any of that for me?"

"There's chak-chak on the kitchen bench."

Deckard scoffed and rolled his eyes. Of course there was, considering he hated it. All that honey and sugar made it too sweet for his tastes, but zapekanka? He finished reinstalling the engine and found a clean rag, wiping the sweat and grease off his hands before he climbed in the driver's seat. "I thought you baked two of those."

"I did." Overindulging couldn't hurt a fly if it only happened once a month. She would've been in her apartment in Cuba with a whole cake to herself if not for Magdalene, but sitting here next to Owen while Deckard did all the work and she had nothing to do but play tech-head? Elizabeth had forgotten how nice it was being part of a family. In so much as they could call themselves a family, it was still nice. Owen hadn't changed at all, nor Deckard; the pair hadn't gotten off her case about Cipher or Cuba for the past three hours. Owen also couldn't stop laughing about the look of sheer shock on Deckard's face when their mother had slapped Beth. "And the other one's reserved for breakfast."

"C'mon, what's wrong with you? Playing favourites again, I see." He gestured with one hand while he started the Land Rover with the other. It purred to life and the rattle that'd been plaguing him was gone. "Hand it over, and the third spoon. Yeah, I ain't blind, it's in your pocket. Pass me the bloody cake."

"It's not a spoon."

He frowned. If she was carrying a knife around in her pocket while with them — in the presence of their mother — he was going to kill her. "Then what is it?"

For pete's sake. What was it with him and double standards? So Deckard could walk around with a killer attitude and a decade plus of military experience, but she wasn't allowed a chance of defending herself? "Switchblade."

Of course it was! Maybe if she'd just learn proper self defence, even a couple Krav Maga moves, she wouldn't risk their arses and hers by carrying a knife around. Every time they were together, she always pulled shit like this. If she didn't end up pissing someone off or picking a fight with one of them, she was trying to pretend she was on par with them. "Jesus Christ, Beth! I swear you're going to get us all killed one day."

"It's not from my bag." Owen raised his hands, spoon in one and the other empty. This was the usual eccentric Deckard 'I was nominated for a Victoria Cross' Shaw response, but situations rarely occurred that brought out this side of him. "You know I don't need a knife to take care of the likes of her."

Wait, was that a threat, a compliment, or an insult? From Owen, you could never quite tell. And it was from his bag. For as long as he'd been in the military, they'd always had an arrangement: if together, one of them brought a knife. Sometimes fists just couldn't cut it, and for her, a knife was an easier form of self defence than punching her way out. Being able to throw or hold something was also less risky than allowing someone close enough to shank her.

"Are you ever going to stop pretending like I'm the only one making stupid decisions around here, Deck?" she snapped. And here they went, butting heads over things he couldn't let go of. There was a reason she got along better with Owen than him: he couldn't let go of grudges. When it came to Owen, bygones were bygones inside of a week, and if there was still a lingering issue, they put everything on the table and dealt with it. "I was eighteen, and I chose the mob over the military because at least I belong there."

Have your fucking cake, she thought, standing and leaving her spoon on the stool. If one of them didn't walk away now, tempers were going to flare and this would turn out worse than it had with Magdalene. With Deckard and Owen, she rarely held back; they'd seen the full extent of her temper on her worst day and lived to laugh about it. Being a grown woman who lost her temper would also make her feel nothing short of weak and pathetic. I'm going for a run.

"And where do you think you're going?" Deckard scowled as she opened the garage door. She was hardly dressed for a date at a cafe let alone visit her friends, provided she still had any. "It's a quarter past four and we're leaving for Greece at midday."

She's not even in Greece anymore, wanker. She shut the garage door behind her and started jogging down the driveway. The old hag on the front step with her cup of tea, leopard print jacket, and large tiger's eye ring, went ignored. Seconds later, Magdalene was up off her arse and keeping pace in her slippers. Elizabeth cringed but said nothing, focused on hugging the gutter and not being hit by any cars.

Magdalene waited till they turned the corner and allowed herself to fall a few paces behind before she said, "I'm sorry, Lizzy."

"I called you a bitch, you slapped me." The bite of anger in her voice wasn't subtle despite all attempts to keep her tone flat. "It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is. You ain't my flesh and blood but you're still my daughter." Maybe it was that dark head of hair or those high cheekbones, but when Elizabeth tilted her head at just the right angle, she could've sworn it was Michael standing there and not her. Owen had his jaw and nose, but everything else including his attitude towards Owen and Deckard and those cold eyes had skipped their two sons and ended up in her. "Slow down will you? I'm not that fit anymore, love. Can we at least talk about this like grown women?"

"Fine. Perhaps then we can stop acting like your sons are boys to be coddled and not men who need a good boot up the arse." How many times had she let Owen's behaviour slide over the years, or excused it? The fights, the pretending like his personality didn't verge on borderline psychopathic some days. Ignoring Deckard's penchant for wannabe heroics was one thing; turning a blind eye to Owen coming home with fractured ribs, bruised eyes, busted lips, and shredded knuckles, was another. Elizabeth stepped onto the nature strip and turned around to face her, angling herself away from the road as two black SUVs drove past and turned into their street. "What do you really want?"

"How's your father?"

The last time she'd heard from him was pre-Gitmo, before Cipher entered their lives and Owen went on his rampage. Those were the days when touching half a billion dollars was just a dream and the closest she could come was crunching numbers at a desk in Moscow. Now it was still a dream, but Cipher's presence had pushed it a few steps closer to becoming reality. "I wouldn't know."

She buttoned her jacket up to the collar and frowned, smoothing out the wrinkles before she started walking back towards the corner of their street. She could spot suspicion from a mile away and that was beyond blatant. Magdalene made sure the street and its surroundings were always well lit in case of emergency. Irish government plates on military vehicles? That never boded well. "Armoured cars don't often drive 'round these parts of London."

Cars that had to be at least four or five hundred kilos heavier than they were fresh off the factory floor? No, they didn't. All that weight made them sit lower sans their tyres being raised or suspension systems improved. That left two options: either they didn't care about being spotted, in which case whoever used those cars was a complete idiot, or riding low was a strategic choice.

"If there's any chance they're not headed for my house, they'll be exiting the street now." Living in a cul-de-sac with other elderly people offered one advantage: if the police or other law enforcement types showed up, it didn't require a genius to figure out whose door they were about to knock on.

A sigh and a shrug was Elizabeth's only response before she started walking in the direction of the house. The chance of that happening was slim to none. Unless the old crone next door had chosen to murder her husband spur of the moment, odds were Deckard and Owen had probably pissed somebody off again.

Magdalene trailed behind her as they took the corner. She stopped just past the first electricity pole and didn't budge. Her instincts told her to stay put. From a distance she could see five people in tactical gear standing on her front lawn, and her sons on their knees.

One minute there were three, the next two. Deckard looked up just as a figure crash tackled one of the soldiers to the ground and drew the attention of the others. The few seconds it afforded him was all he needed to disarm one and disable another by dislocating their dominant arm. Owen dealt with the two remaining without hesitation, leaving Beth to her brawl.

Given a two second advantage, she punched her target in the face twice, drove his balls up into his body with her knee, and pressed her switchblade to the underside of his jaw. For good measure, she jackhammered her knee into his groin again then demanded, "Who are you? What do you want?"

The sound of Deckard being hit distracted her and it took all of a moment to throw her into the ground. Flynn, or so his uniform read, took the opportunity to draw his pistol and pressed it to the back of her head. When he spoke, his American accent came as a surprise. "Mr. Nobody has a plane waiting. Either you three come willingly or we cuff you and drag you onboard."

The click of the safety sent a shiver down her spine and turned her bones to jelly. The steel barrel felt colder than ice when it was pressed into her scalp, leaving her anger at seeing her brothers on their knees to dissipate as she crumpled under his weight. How one noise could hurl someone backwards through twenty-nine years of memories was something she'd never quite understand, but it did. She could feel the wooden floorboards under her hands, and the top of her head smacked the slats of the bed above her each time she tried to look up; her muffled shallow breathing sounded like thunder in her ears while the acrid stench of cigar smoke stung her nostrils.

"You made a deal, Deckard."

"I told him I'd find Cipher. I only need more time!"

"I want to go back to Santa Clara," Owen heard Elizabeth whisper. "Put me back on that fucking plane now."

"Your time's up. Cuffs or no cuffs? Do we make this easier or harder than it has to be?"

From where Owen stood, nothing looked different about Beth except the tremors in her hands. With the bastard's knee on her back and his gun to her head, she hadn't moved a centimetre since being pinned. "No cuffs! Just get off her, will you?"

"Deckard?" Flynn pressed, ignoring Owen's call. "If you're not going to do it for yourself, think of your siblings. She's meant to be serving life, and the Spanish want him dead."

He swore under his breath. What the hell was Nobody playing at? He'd told them it'd take longer than two months. Eventually Cipher would be locked up in segregation at U-Max, but finding her wasn't as simple as snapping his fingers. He looked across at Owen, one step short of breaking someone's neck, and Beth, hands shaking as she tried to keep it together.

"Now look what you've done. Ruined my bloody flowers, you have! I've been growing those in memory of their father." The look on the soldiers' faces as Magdalene walked towards them and began her tirade could only be described as sheer horror. The false sense of security they'd been lulled into by thinking the worst was over had just been shattered. "Couldn't even wait till daylight before coming in to destroy another family, could you? This is elderly abuse by the government! I want to speak to Head Office. You're MI5, aren't you? It's always MI5, ever since Thatcher finished her run you've been harassing my family."

"Mum, it's fine," Deckard said, standing and moving between her and the group of five. Two SUVs were parked facing the house but only one had opened its doors. The other, he assumed, was for them. "Why don't you go back inside and make yourself a cuppa, eh, and what're you doing wandering around in your slippers at this time of morning?"

Her shoulders sagged as she got to her feet. Flynn had backed off the minute Magdalene started shouting. Free to move, she stepped backwards toward Owen and flicked the switchblade closed. Who knew one day she'd end up being saved by the old hag? As Magdalene walked past her, Elizabeth murmured, "thank you."

"Keep them alive, will you?" she responded in a low voice. "I can't be there to save you every time."

"Dementia," Owen said, gesturing to his head. "Sometimes she thinks she is Thatcher."

"I heard that, Owen Geoffrey! Oh look what you've done to Sheila, she's terrified. Poor cat." She scooped up air and cradled it against her chest. "You come around here again and I'll have you arrested!"

Chapter Text

"There's no time for arguing, now get in the car." Deckard had seen that little head tilt and the following jaw movement. His sister and mother conspiring together? That couldn't be good for anyone. The second SUV had driven up onto the kerb and nature strip by the time Magdalene retreated inside; its rear door was promptly opened and the fate that awaited them dangled in their faces. "Now."

Owen grabbed the inside roof handle and pulled himself in, taking the corner seat behind the driver without hesitation. He noted the tinted glass barrier separating them and the driver, along with the lack of just about everything a car usually had in the way of comfort and accessibility. With no controls for the blacked out windows and no door handles, it was a veritable death trap if ever he'd seen one.

Deckard climbed in next. There was no point in looking over his shoulder to check for Elizabeth. She wasn't getting in any time soon without a fight, if ever. He could read her like one of those waterproof books you bought a toddler for bathtime; action was prized over words, and loyalty placed alongside it. A willingness to do whatever was necessary to survive, however, ranked first place amongst the aspects of her personality he'd deemed most dangerous.

Owen, unsurprisingly, was predictable in his eyes, and when it came down to it so was she. There were only so many choices a person could make in any given situation. Hers presently came down to two: get in the car, or don't.

Flynn stepped forward and gestured to the open door. If she didn't move, he'd lift her and throw her in himself. Woman or not he'd had it up to here with playing chauffer to Nobody's pals. All he'd ever gotten from it was a growing list of injuries. "You have thirty seconds before I put you in that car myself, Miss Shaw."

"You have five to get out of my face."

"Oh I do? Get—"

She whipped her head forward and struck his nose with her forehead. The cartilage shattered into fragments on impact, leaving his nose looking lopsided and off-centre. "I swear to God himself if they don't make it to wherever the hell you're taking us alive, you'll have more to worry about than a broken nose."

Owen managed to smother a laugh but couldn't hide the amused look on his face. Albeit he earned himself a glare from Deckard, he opted to give her a thumbs up once she was inside the SUV. Perhaps the pickup team hadn't been briefed on how the Shaw family operated. Truthfully, he found that hard to believe. Unless they were working from old files, there was no reason for anyone to think they could begin to try and push his sister around without being on the receiving end of her defiant attitude. And if not for Deckard signalling him to go easy on these bastards, there would've been a pile of bodies ready for burial inside of five minutes.

"You've gotten—" Owen paused and looked Elizabeth over. Where had their chipmunk of a sister gone? Now she was more like a bear: aggressive and headstrong with a touch of impulsiveness to boot. "—better."

She shrugged off the compliment and chose to slide closer to Owen. When the doors shut, she'd need some form of reassurance to quell the anxiety that'd rear its head. The question of whether that door, like the one on her cell, would ever open again couldn't be permitted room in her head, and yet it was already there in the back of her mind, fuelling her instinctual fears. "I had some free time in prison."

She just couldn't stay out of trouble, could she? First Dmitri, then Cipher. Now she was throwing her weight around once more. As amusing as it was, Deckard preferred not to think about the repercussions of them assaulting their escort. A busted nose wasn't much of an injury, however it was as valid an excuse as any to break out the riot gear and flog them.

After a few moments of awkward silence, the reinforced door was slammed shut and the passenger compartment thrown into darkness. Their faces were illuminated only by what little light passed through the glass barrier; it glinted off the thick metal rings they should've been shackled to and splintered into thin lines that faded to nothingness beneath the seats. The SUV bounced as it reversed off the nature strip before proceeding to exit the street and turn right. The nearest airport was just under an hour's drive away.

"Beth?" Owen murmured as she gripped his right hand and squeezed it. More than four years apart and it was like nothing had changed. Either God had done them a favour, or the Devil had plans, because their family was intact and mostly unscathed. "You alright?"

"Yeah, fine." Of course she was. That door would open inside of an hour and they'd be able to breathe fresh air. They weren't going to be taken to a black site and left for dead, right? It was just a bad case of extortion and blackmail, not the preliminary to an execution. "Just tell me she paid you."

"She?"

"I didn't ruin my life only to find out we got ripped off." How could she even show her face in Moscow now? She'd been taken by the Feds and was still alive: what other assumption could they make other than she became a snitch. "Twenty-eighty was the agreed split, remember?"

Dammit. Owen pulled his hand free and slid toward the other end of the seat. He'd wound up smeared over the tarmac and comatose before the chip could be delivered! Cipher had made a five percent security deposit, but that billion dollars would never see the light of day. No delivery, no payment: Elizabeth had to know how these types of business deals went down. "No, we didn't get paid," Owen said, "the plane was taken down before I could make delivery."

"The bad news: I've got an injured team member … she broke his nose."

Luke almost snorted his drink at that. If a broken nose was the worst of their worries, the Shaws had held back. He set his bottle of water and a copy of Sun Tzu's The Art of War down, and waited for the other penny to drop. Seated by a window with his legs stretched out in front of him, Hobbs had been dreading an update since they'd boarded the plane. Cuba had been one giant letdown, but surely grabbing them on their home turf where they felt comfortable and safe would prove beneficial. "Do I get dessert?"

"They're in the back of an SUV right now," Eric said, clutching a manila folder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. There was no use in hiding the shit-eating grin on his face. Even if he wanted to, it just wouldn't go away. He sat opposite Nobody and crossed one leg over the other then proceeded to open the folder with one hand. Captain Owen G. Shaw,, the inside cover sheet read, British Special Air Service. "The plane leaves in forty minutes, and it's a direct flight from London."

"All three?"

"Deckard, Elizabeth, and Owen." He took a sip of his coffee and set it down in the holder. To hell with sleep, he needed to memorise these files cover to cover and find something — anything — he could use as leverage beyond the obvious. "They'll be on U.S soil in eleven hours."

Hobbs nodded to himself and smiled in anticipation of the looks he'd get when that car door was opened. He imagined the younger two Shaws wouldn't be so happy. They were the ones who'd embraced the criminal lifestyle, unlike Deckard; he'd come looking for revenge, not a paycheck. "I want to be there when they land."

"You will," Mr. Nobody said. He undid his tie and set it aside. His suit jacket was already bagged and hanging in the onboard storage closet, along with his shoes. The lights had been dimmed and the curtains were closed to block out the plane's navigation lights. "Junior here isn't cut out to handle the big game yet."

"I said I wouldn't shit the bed again," Eric protested. They'd been over this numerous times: he was more than ready to sell their plan. "I've worked on my sales pitch for the last three months. You've heard it, right, Hobbs?"

"Maybe once you've gained another hundred pounds," Nobody said, ending the conversation. "It's not a matter of your sales pitch. You just trapped three wolves in a cage and two have over fifteen years military experience."

"And the other one," Luke said, "Well, if she goes for your balls in a fight, you'll know about it."

All those memories from the good days, Luke had clung to them after his team was killed. He remembered well what'd happened in that brothel hallway with Fusco, those weeks spent in Tahiti simultaneously chasing a criminal and relaxing; the day he opened a box of files and handpicked his team. The pain had eased after months of counselling, but the sense of loss and that permanent feeling of now having one hand tied behind his back when doing his job would never go away.

"Fine." Better Hobbs than him in that case. Eric returned his attention to the manila folder on his lap and started rereading it for the third time in the past week. There had to be something in their files, some clue as to how Cipher had found them, or how she'd first approached Deckard.

He was disappointed, Luke noted. Jesus, Reisner was going to get himself killed if he approached them the wrong way. The brothers weren't volatile per se, but they certainly had no problem knocking someone off their pedestal. "If you come to the airfield, you keep your mouth shut," Luke relented, "and I do all the talking."

It was fair enough, Eric supposed. He hadn't had contact with Owen Shaw, and based off what hadn't been redacted in Deckard's file, the two brothers were the antitheses of each other. He also hadn't worked with Hobbs before without Nobody present. This was an opportunity to learn, and to study their not-quite-allies. "Thank you."

"Uh-huh." Luke stood and stretched his upper body then sat and reclined his seat back. Five hours from now, he'd be asleep in a hotel room near the airport while they waited for the Shaws to land. While he sympathised with being stuck in a parked car within the belly of a plane for eleven long hours, no one could argue it wasn't for the sake of solving a problem the Shaws themselves had created. "Have fun reading."

"You wanna grab him?" Letty said, stirring as Marcus's cries reached her ears. She'd finally learnt all the various pitches and tones of his cries over the last two months, and could tell just by the way he tried to flatten his nostrils against his face if she was in need of the diaper bag. Fortunately, this was his regular 'I need a change' cry. "Dom—"

She glanced up and noted Dom's absence before letting her head drop back against the pillow. The clock on the bedside drawer read two a.m. One hour since his last diaper change? If this was a case of diarrhea, Letty was going to need to stock up again on wipes. Letty closed her eyes just as the sound of Dom's voice and footsteps reached her ears; she felt the bed sink when they rejoined her and thought nothing more of it till she woke again.

By then, the early morning sunlight filtered through the thin blue curtains of their room and cast shapes against the far wall. If the sun was up, so were she and Dom; that was how they lived their life now. Give Marcus an opportunity to climb something or hide and they could spend an hour searching for him, only for him to slip out and surprise them.

"Dom?" Letty called out before she found her pants and a shirt and tugged them on. His side of the bed was empty and neatened, leaving her to wonder if he was downstairs or taking a shower. Some mornings, she'd find him on the phone talking to Marcus and Elena, listening as Marcus 'explained' what manner of trouble he'd gotten up to in Elena's apartment or Hobbs' office.

"Momma," Marcus squealed, giggling as he was promptly hidden under a bed sheet by Dom..

"Momma, I think we lost Marcus again!" Dom called out from the spare bedroom. Marcus had spent half the night fussing and left him with little choice but to sleep in the spare bedroom with his son. The past two weeks had been rough for Letty. Some nights he found her asleep with her head on the toilet roll holder, other times she'd be on the sofa downstairs with a set of earphones in and her playlists set to shuffle. She hadn't talked to him about what was keeping her awake, and Dom was hesitant to ask. As much as he wanted to understand and be supportive of his wife, part of him didn't want to hear her answer if it involved Elena and Marcus.

"Again?" Letty said, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her shoulders sagged in relief and she walked out into the hallway. It was the exaggerated looks on their faces that would set Marcus off once they 'found' where he was hiding. His high pitch laugh that only came out when they were playing a game, that cheeky grin on his face: it was all Dom; even Leon had taken one look at Marcus and instantly fallen in love with him. Marcus just seemed to have that effect on people. "Papa, how'd you lose Marcus this time? Did you leave him in the garage again?"

"I don't think so." He stretched out on the bed and feigned ignorance each time Marcus stuck his head out from beneath the blanket, only to quickly crawl back under moments later.

"Oh. I see we've got a problem with lumpy blankets again." Letty sat beside Dom and gently poked Marcus through the blanket. In a few seconds, he'd sit up and wrestle with the blanket to reveal himself as he always did. And right on schedule, Marcus sat up on his knees and attempted a roar. Letty fell back on the bed in response and gasped. "You scared me!"

"There was a note from Elena in the bag," Dom said. He hadn't wanted to show it to her once he found it, except Letty deserved to know what exactly was going on. It seemed Hobbs was searching for Cipher again, and Elena felt worried enough to ask Dom to help him if the situation went south. He'd never hesitate in coming to Luke's aid, but with Marcus in his life, suddenly every risk he took was assessed and thought over. "I called her earlier and she said she'll come pick Marcus up in a few hours."

"Yeah, I found it too," Letty said, "I just didn't know what to do with it." Would he be angry? She'd seen it and dreaded what would follow if she acted on it. How many times had they risked their lives for Hobbs? Every time he came calling, Dom answered. Letty was tired of the bullets and blood. She wanted to go back to fixing cars and not spend her nights wondering what piece of her — their — past would come back to haunt them.

"If Hobbs gets into trouble, he's gonna need the team, Letty." He reached for Marcus and pulled him onto his chest, grunting quietly when his son began to bounce up and down and kick his legs. Dom had told Letty about Brazil and the heist, being hunted by Hobbs and ending up in the middle of a firefight that didn't end well for the DSS, but he'd never found the words to fully express the horror of it all. "He's gonna need us."

"Where are we?" she said, sitting on the floor of the car with her legs bent and hair tied up in bun. The drive had been alright, till suddenly the car began driving uphill and a loud rumbling noise surrounded them. Deckard and Owen proceeded to tell her to get comfortable, that the door would be closed for far longer than expected, and so the nightmare had begun. "We haven't moved since the plane landed. D'you think—"

"Go back to sleep, Beth," Owen groaned. If he'd known following Deckard meant spending half a day trapped in a car with someone who couldn't understand the concept of 'getting over it', Owen would've walked back inside the house and told Deckard exactly where to shove his compliance. "We could be anywhere in the world and we won't know where we are till that door opens."

A plane. A goddamn plane. The bastard had driven them into a plane and left them in the SUV without a word. The air-con kept them cool enough, and Deckard found a sealed six-pack of bottled water shoved in a corner, but nothing could stop her mind ticking over, nor could anything stop her nausea.

Given Nobody's involvement, there were only a few places he imagined it would be worth hand-delivering them to. Los Angeles was one of them. Deckard squinted in the dark but couldn't see much more than the shape of Elizabeth, still fighting herself and trying to remain calm. Eleven hours in a car was a long time for anyone, but a car they couldn't leave was far worse.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the car and the numbers on his digital wrist watch became visible, Deckard relented in giving it to Elizabeth as a distraction. It allowed her to focus, to tune out her body and the occasional harsh movements of the plane; it also stopped Owen's complaining about her inability to cope in what was a considerably large confined space. The first fight, unfortunately, came three hours into their trip. The second at the seven hour mark. Deckard had all but accepted the third fight would place them at war with one another.

"Wankers," Elizabeth grumbled, easing herself down again and stretching her legs out on the floor. She tucked one arm under her head and clutched the wrist watch in her other hand, curling and stretching her toes against the now warm rubber flooring. "When he opens that door, I'll break more than just his nose."

"Relax, will you?" Deckard said, and thumped his fist repeatedly against his seat. She really was starting to get on his nerves, though he couldn't blame her. As if on cue, he heard the whirr of the plane's ramp being lowered, and heavy footsteps on metal followed two minutes later. It was about time! Please be Hobbs, he prayed, listening to the lock disengage, for God's sake let it be Hobbs.

"Door's unlocked, Shaw. Sorry about the wait. Little Nobody here couldn't pick which dress he wanted to wear this morning."

Deckard slid his way along the seats, lifting his feet when he felt Elizabeth on the floor, and made it to the door quicker than his brother could pick a fight. He pushed against the door and it swung open, revealing Hobbs with Little Nobody standing behind him. "Took your sweet time, didn't you, and what's he want?"

"Sorry."

"We want you to help us find Cipher," Little Nobody interrupted.

"What do you think I've been doing these past few months?" Deckard said, climbing out and stepping to the side, "Sitting on my arse? I told you it would take time."

"Well we're running out of time. Are you in or what?" Luke said. "There's a flight back to London in four hours if you say no."

"Good," Elizabeth said, stepping out of the SUV before Owen could move. She looked past Deckard to the figure he was talking to, and shielded her eyes from the sudden intrusion of light with one hand. "You can book me a seat—"

"Well if it isn't Her Royal Highness." Luke planted his feet firm and rested his hands on his hips, giving her a smug smirk that said if she tried anything he'd bodyslam her into the floor of the plane. "Hi, Princess. Long time no see."

"Hobbs," she growled, stepping sideways so she could glare at him without interference from Deckard's shoulder. "I hoped you'd be dead now."

"I tried it. Nice apartment in Santa Clara, by the way," Luke said, noting when Deckard put his arm out to stop her. "Those tools under the floorboards? It's a shame you had to leave them behind. Anyway, as I was saying: Cipher's on the move and we need to find her soon before she pulls something bigger than kidnapping and nearly killing a federal agent and her child."

"You know this arsehole, Deck?"

Owen sat in the doorway of the SUV and scoffed as he carded his fingers through his short black hair to neaten it. "We all do. He's a two-bit government hack."

"You, take a walk," Deckard said, giving Elizabeth a look. "Owen, shut up and pay attention. Keep talking, Hobbs."

Chapter Text

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The door creaked and groaned under its own weight as Owen pushed it open before he stepped from the car and shut the door behind him with a heavy thump. They were in an empty parking lot at the northern end of the compound. Apart from the wind and the low rumble of their sedan idling, all signs of life had either been concealed or erased Surrounded by only empty buildings, the silence that came with a lack of human activity was nothing short of eerie.

"What is this place really?" Owen asked. "A training facility? This isn't some abandoned suburb."

Everything around them was far too neat and pristine. The exact opposite of what he expected to find if this truly was just some rich suburb left behind in favour of the coast. All the construction was finished, the roads smooth without any sign of wear and tear. And in this area alone, there were three security cameras poorly concealed on the buildings surrounding them.

"Where's Hobbs and my brother?" Elizabeth walked around the car, searching for any sign of the second sedan. At some point they'd been split up. Perhaps Deckard's car had taken one branch of a road and theirs the other. "You wouldn't be trying to pull something, would you?"

Eric shook his head and gestured to a large warehouse to their immediate west. That was their real destination; everything else was only meant to serve as a decoy. "They're already inside."

Inside that, she wondered, or some secret facility beneath it? No government could be trusted when they illegally renditioned people on a whim and flew them halfway around the world. Why else would Hobbs and his friends send armed bastards to collect the children of an old woman if not due to a lack of legitimacy?

"So why are we out here?"

"I wanted to lay down some ground rules."

Rules? That was cute. He actually expected they'd listen to him. Elizabeth hooked her thumbs through her belt loops and started walking towards the warehouse. Owen promptly caught up to her, slipped his arm around her shoulders and kept to a somewhat casual pace.

"Shaw!" Shit. What was it with these people and refusing to play by the rules? "Volkova!"

"How many cameras did you notice?" she asked, voice low, glancing around as they walked. It was probably a good thirty minute run to the gate they'd entered via. Once they were allowed more freedom, Elizabeth would seize the opportunity to better scope the place out, but for now the easiest exit was going directly south and jumping the wire fence. "This place is a maze."

"Three back there, another up ahead. And I've a feeling that's the point." If they checked every inch of the facility, Owen didn't doubt the number of cameras would exceed a hundred. "You're going to have to put in some hours on the treadmill and be charming before they let you out here."

"I can do charming." For some reason, men often seemed to mistake being nice or competitive with flirting. Just because a woman smiled at someone didn't mean she wasn't imagining the many ways she could flog them. "But you'll have to approach Deckard. If I start asking him what he noticed, he's gonna clam up."

"Over here!" Eric opened a large metal side door and gestured to them. Every time he thought he'd caught up to them, the pair managed to put some more distance between themselves and him. After the first three minutes, he switched his focus from eavesdropping to getting ahead of them and getting inside. "Hey, guys!"

"What?" Elizabeth said, shielding her eyes with one hand. She could almost smell how fresh Reisner was. The guy wasn't completely inexperienced but he still lacked that necessary wariness when dealing with the criminal type. "It's a nice day and I was stuck in that car all night. Can't I take a walk?"

"After the briefing. Maybe."

"See?" She nudged Owen and smiled. "He likes me already."

"No." Owen eyed Little Nobody as he stood in the doorway, waiting and watching them. Unarmed and tense, he was a rabbit caught in the sight lines of wolves. "He's scared of you."

"Even better. He'll leave us alone."

"Get your asses inside." Luke stepped past Eric and looked the Shaws dead in the eye. Whatever delay tactics they were using were about to be quashed. "And stop screwing around. We need to talk."

Hobbs wanted them to talk. Well that certainly sounded interesting. Elizabeth pulled away from Owen and sat on a low concrete wall that lined the edge of a garden bed. "Then let's talk out here."

"Fine." Luke wasn't going to start a fight over something as simple as where they stood. He would certainly be cautious, however. If he played Shaw's game for too long, followed her rules, he'd soon find himself on a slippery slope that potentially led to him losing sight of the mission. "Owen, go fetch your brother."

He went inside without a word and immediately found himself face to face with Deckard. Whatever was going on in his brother's head couldn't be good. That cold, dead look in Deckard's eye was one Owen had seen numerous times. It said he was all but ready to burn everything to the ground no matter the cost.

The day the military arrived at his house and told him his Victoria Cross had been forfeited because of his actions, Deckard had worn that expression. Owen imagined it wouldn't have been much different the day Deckard received the call from the hospital either, or the day a closed court passed sentence on their sister.

"You alright?"

"I'm sick of this." Deckard's jaw was clenched and his sleeves barely contained his biceps. Every inch of him radiated anger and tension while he struggled to distract himself with something. "They came to Mum's house with guns. Showed up in government cars and dragged us off... I just want Cipher dead and this whole thing over with."

Owen nodded in sympathy and rubbed the back of his neck, flinching at the sting of his nails against his scarred skin. There wasn't much to be said when Deckard was like this. They'd both been dishonourably discharged, stripped of rank and medals, their reputations besmirched. The funny thing was no one had ever asked 'why'. The hierarchy only cared for what they'd done, not the reasoning behind their actions. "Me too."

He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension in them, but Deckard had a feeling the process would require a punching bag, not a massage. He looked over Owen's shoulder at the open door and frowned, noticing nothing but a warm breeze was coming through it. "Where's Hobbs gone?"

"Beth refused to budge so he wants to talk to us outside."

"Course she did." A stubborn pain in the arse was how he'd described her since the day they'd met. Knowing his luck, her refusal was also based on some kind of exit strategy. Deckard had already begun to form his own on the way in. "I guess we should go play happy families then."

Owen raised his eyebrows as if to say 'happy?' but followed Deckard outside without protest. If they stirred up the hornet's nest too soon, it was going to be impossible to leave the grounds without an armed escort. Better to play along than push their luck, he thought.

In his peripheral vision, Luke watched the pair approach then began to speak. "So here's how this whole thing is going to work."

Elizabeth smiled at Hobbs and leaned back on the wall. She'd tried to play him and he'd called her bluff. To say she was surprised would've been an understatement, yet it was clear the man hadn't changed a bit since their first encounter in Moscow.

"Weapons will be issued for practice and missions only, and I'm pretty sure you two don't need any time on the range to brush up on your accuracy. If either of you get a clear shot at her, take it."

This was a kill mission? Beth sat upright and angled her body forward, listening intently to Hobbs' words as he continued. She'd told Magdalene she wasn't going to allow her to kill Cipher, and those pesky morals of hers that said murder was wrong still stood firm now. If Cipher died, she would never get what she wanted. The moment Cipher's heart stopped beating, all that money would disappear and the bank accounts would be closed; every asset and share liquidated.

"If Toretto walks away, that's his call. He's got Marcus to protect," Luke continued. "But I'm finishing this mission one way or another. I don't know if you've ever heard the phrase 'ride or die' but that's exactly what we're doing."

He hadn't signed up to die, Owen thought. Yet if Hobbs was this focused on stopping Cipher then maybe flying under his radar would be easier than expected. "I understand you want justice for what happened to your partner but you've never been face to face with her, Hobbs. She's a whole new breed of psychotic and 'ride or die' isn't going to cut it."

"I think we can handle Cipher," Eric protested. "We did it before with less numbers than we have now. Right, Hobbs?"

His partner? Jesus. What exactly had Cipher been doing? Elizabeth swallowed and shifted her attention to the pavement beneath her feet. That phrase 'ride or die', however they put it, sounded like a quick and guaranteed way to get them all killed. You couldn't just throw yourself at Cipher and hope she didn't see you coming. "What exactly does that entail?"

Deckard ran a hand back over his scalp and looked everyone bar Elizabeth in the eye. There were numerous ways to explain it but only one rang true for their situation. "It means we don't go home until it's over."

The looks on their faces told her they weren't joking. Ride or die? What kind of overzealous selfish crap was that? Throwing your life away was one thing but asking a complete stranger to do it as well was ridiculous. "I need to take a walk."

Deckard took a cautious step towards her. "Beth—"

"Don't!" Her voice cracked, pitch skewing high and accent wavering. Elizabeth slid off the concrete wall and started walking north, away from the four of them. "Just — Just don't."

"And you thought telling her about Riley would cause problems," Owen muttered. It had taken her long enough to realise what would be required of her, but it seemed those three words had brought her fears to the surface. Now she finally understood what was at stake if they didn't get the job finished sooner rather than later.

"I know it's asking a lot." Luke was on her ass without hesitation, matching her pace. She'd willingly put herself in prison all those years ago and now here he was asking her to place her own neck — her life — on the line. "Believe me, I understand. I have a daughter."

"That's nice." He just didn't stop, did he? She'd refused him back then and even now Hobbs was still determined to see her change sides. It was more complicated than before, Elizabeth acknowledged. The threat wasn't him and his team of elites knocking on her door. It was something bigger. Something a lot more terrifying than a federal agent with a badge and a gun.

"Anna."

"Don't call me that." You haven't earned the right. She ducked down a small gap between two buildings, moving sideways so her shoulders wouldn't scrape the walls. There was nowhere for her to run out here, or hide. Motion detectors had likely been installed inside every building, Elizabeth figured. Cameras too. Why else have extremely lax security?

Goddamn it. Luke sucked in his stomach and squeezed down the passageway. His own shoulders grazed the walls with each step while he forced himself to shuffle faster, trying to catch up with her. "I'm not going to tell you to do it for your brothers."

Little Nobody had tried invoking his daughter once, on his first and only day in that U-Max prison, and he'd quickly learnt not to do it again. "Whatever you decide," he said, "it needs to be about you."

About her? Maybe he hadn't noticed it but when it came down to it, she was nothing short of disposable. "You really don't get it, do you?" she replied, glancing back at him as she stepped out from between the two buildings. "It's never been about me before and that's not going to change now."

"You're not their knight in shining armour, Shaw. The responsibility isn't on your shoulders." He understood the sentiment. His brothers, his sister — back when they were young, Luke had found himself trying to carry their burdens too. It'd taken till he was old enough to join the DSS for him to realise all that weight wasn't his to bear. "They made their own mistakes and they can suffer the consequences of them."

"What do you want, Hobbs?" He had to want something. Every man did. Whether it was political, financial or sexual, men always had their eye on a prize. Some kind of reward to motivate them towards acting like decent human beings instead of the scum of the earth. "You keep pressing the issue but it's gotten you nowhere."

That wasn't true at all, Luke thought. It had gotten him time alone with her, away from any unwanted and corrupt influences. Now it appeared it was time to change tact and really put the cards on the table. "I can't give you back your old life."

"But?"

"I can offer you a new one."

"What makes you think I want a new life?"

"You hoarded cash and papers in your apartment, worked under the radar and lived week to week. People who live normal lives don't do that. You were hiding from someone." Running was another possibility but Luke doubted that was it. If Shaw had been running, he never would've found her. She'd have dug a hole so deep as to conceal her presence completely. "And you went to all that effort only to get kidnapped by your own mother."

"Their mother." Not once in her entire life had she consciously thought of Magdalene Shaw as her mother. The woman had cared for her, raised her, but the only mother she'd ever known was buried in a cemetery somewhere in Moscow, in a grave she knew nothing about. "Get to the point, Fed."

"You can't keep hiding for the rest of your life."

Hobbs really didn't have a clue, did he? Or perhaps he was just playing stupid to get her to talk. If he poked her enough, maybe he thought she'd lose her temper. It was a pity she wasn't the same woman he'd met in Moscow or she would've pulled the knife from her bra and slid it right between his ribs. On the other hand, a quick death was just too good for Hobbs. "Have you said your piece yet?"

"No."

What else could he possibly need to say? Perhaps Hobbs hadn't been paying attention but she didn't want silver platters or 'get out of jail free' cards from some wanker in a suit. With a single call to the right number, Elizabeth could have all that and more. "Too bad, because I have no interest in hearing more."

"Riley died because she chose your brother over her own life." Shaw's stance changed in a second. She clenched her fists tightly, pushed herself up on her toes and almost frothed at the mouth as she stared him down. It wasn't the exact reaction Luke had been hoping for but it was something. "Whatever you do, don't make the same mistakes she did."

"It wasn't her choices that got her killed. It was Owen's." He'd taken some Jeep instead of a hypercar, allowed the Antonov to drop below takeoff speed. And somehow the ramp had even been left open despite him and Riley already being onboard. Perhaps if Owen had taken Cipher's advice and planned accordingly, all the death and destruction could've been avoided. "Owen was told what to do and how to do it. He chose to go against the plan."

The plan? If Shaw had known what was meant to happen in Spain, it was possible her involvement had run deeper than he'd first thought. Interesting. This was the first time she'd let something slip and all Luke had done was push her. "That's because he's arrogant."

At least they agreed on something. Elizabeth nodded slightly before lowering her feet and turning to walk away. It was funny how the pieces came together when you were able to speak to someone other than yourself. Despite the details and guarantees that Cipher had provided, Owen had chosen to change routes, change escape plans. If the past was any indication of what her brother's future actions might be, Owen would go against the plan again and she would be the one cleaning up the mess he left behind.

"Shaw."

There were only so many times he could ask the same questions before surely even he got bored of this never-ending circle. "What?"

"Why were you meeting her in Santa Clara?"

"You're going to have to be more specific." Maybe Hobbs had figured it out, or maybe he was just blindly throwing darts and hoping to get lucky. The worst case scenario was they had a still from an isolated security camera of her sitting at a café drinking coffee and eating Tres Leches cake opposite a woman with black hair and blue eyes. The best scenario had the still showing a blonde. "Sofya? Sasha? Masha? Baba Yaga?"

"Cipher."

Elizabeth chuckled and said, "I haven't seen her in years."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"It might be, but good luck proving that. You have nothing, Fed."

He had no leads, no clues, no sign Cipher was even in the States. Just how many countries had Hobbs chased Owen across before catching him, she wondered, and how many was he willing to traverse till he caught Cipher?

"I have your family and a prison awaiting them."

Prison wasn't much of a threat. They'd be out within a week, maybe two. One phone call was all it would take for the ball to get rolling. Hobbs didn't get it, did he? He wasn't the big bad wolf anymore. It didn't matter what threats he made because there was nothing to fear from him or his friends.

At least that's what Elizabeth kept telling herself. Her stomach twisted into knots at the mention of her family. Maybe she was just jumping to the worst case scenario but it didn't matter, did it? Hobbs hadn't specified if 'family' referred only to her brothers, or if he'd grabbed their parents as well. Whatever the answer, she was going to have to tread carefully from now on.

"You really need to work on that sales pitch, Hobbs. One minute it's 'do it for yourself' and the next it's 'do it for your brothers'." Just how many times was he going to give the same speech with a different angle? Hobbs had just asked her to put her life on the line then swung back to threatening her when she didn't bend. "It's a bad game of table tennis and no one's scoring any points."

"Then stop being such a pain in my ass and pick a side. Either you help us take Cipher down or you don't."

She was — God, could he hear himself? "You still haven't noticed what's important, have you?"

"And what's that?"

"You're still breathing." Beth reached under her shirt, slipped the combat knife free of her bra, and shoved it flat against his chest with the blade facing down. "And I'm still standing here."

Chapter Text

"So Hobbs thinks we just gon' roll up on Cipher, grab her, and drop her ass off at the nearest prison."

"That's exactly what we're gonna do." Tej gave Roman one of his 'I have a plan' smiles. Sometimes you had to do exactly what the enemy expected so as to not get blown up later. Well, maybe not a plan per se but he had a couple ideas, but those were still based on guesswork and crossed fingers.

"You know it's not going to be that simple." Ramsey looked at Tej and sighed in exasperation. Was this his ego talking or had he just forgotten what'd happened in Vladovin? Although Dom was on their side this time, nothing about the mission suggested it would play out that easily.

"It's better than sitting around waiting for her to come to us." Letty allowed herself a glance at Dom, hunched over the kitchen table with Brian, sheet upon sheet of schematics and maps laid out before them. He hadn't said a word all day to anyone but Brian except for a casual 'Hey' to the team when they arrived. Instead of meeting them at the airport as planned, Dom had texted them to say they could make their own way to the house. "We can't afford to waste time if we're going to survive this thing."

Letty had a point. Tej couldn't deny that. They were all talking as if they were scared of what was coming next, he thought. Like improvisation wouldn't keep them alive as it had the past few years. Even he'd gotten sucked into admitting he wasn't confident in their chances of survival. "You saw what Jakande had coming out of that bus, right? Take that and make it a hundred times worse."

"Yes, Tej, I remember." But did he? That'd been Jakande, not Cipher. The difference wasn't a big one, but Cipher's only real weapon during their previous encounter had been Dom. Other than him, Cipher hadn't thrown much of anything their way (not counting the submarine). "But worrying about her artillery is pointless if we don't know where she is."

"Hey, Letty, you got a minute?" Mia asked, leaning over the stair railing. "I need to talk to you about something."

Thank God. She'd needed an escape from the team. Everyone's egos had been progressively inflating as they talked about plans and that kind of shit led to people getting hurt. It was something Owen Shaw had warded off with his 'show them the respect they deserve or it weakens us' spiel, not that it'd mattered in the end. Half of Shaw's team had ended up dead in Spain and who knew how many survived afterwards.

"What's up?" Letty unclenched her fists and jaw, pushed off the couch and followed Mia upstairs. "Is something wrong?"

Mia shook her head and sat on the edge of Dom and Letty's bed before flopping backwards. She stretched her legs out, feet dangling off the edge. "No. Just wanted to see how you're doing."

"I'm—" She collapsed onto the mattress next to Mia and rubbed her temples. Letty rolled over to face her and immediately found herself on the receiving end of a serious look. It was as if Mia were saying 'are you really gonna lie to me?'. "Fuck, I don't know. This whole thing is just messing with my head. The last thing I ever wanted was to be in the same room as him again."

"Because he's hot and you liked him or because you want to kick his ass?"

"Both, maybe. That guy scares the shit out of me, Mia. He was ruthless, killed so many people . . . and he was efficient. The way we completed jobs, we were in and out in under two minutes."

"And what about that other thing?"

Mia was going to have to be more specific because Letty didn't have a damn clue which 'thing' she meant. "Um?"

"Your period, idiot." Mia flicked her lightly in the head. They didn't often get to hang out like this anymore, but Mia was enjoying the moment right now. It felt familiar, safe. Comfortable. "It's been two months since your last one, right?"

Oh. That. She'd kind of pushed that knowledge to the back of her mind and left it there. Dealing with Marcus, with Dom, the cafe slash grocer and garage and everything else life threw at her, was more than enough for her to handle. The last thing Letty wanted was anyone getting ideas about her being pregnant.

"If it doesn't happen in the next two weeks, I promise I'll go to a drug store and get one of those piss sticks."

"Or you could just be getting old." The shit-eating grin on Mia's face lit up her eyes and earned her a hard shove. "Next thing you know, you'll be having hot flashes and having to take hormone pills."

"Shut up, man, I'm not that old."

"You kinda look it." Mia gestured to Letty's hair. "You know I think you've got some greys coming through. Might be time to ask your abuela for some tips on how to dye them."

"Uh-huh. You had your fun now?" Letty pushed Mia back down into the mattress the moment she tried to sit up. It really was starting to sink in now. The distance, the danger, the isolation — who the hell was she going to talk to besides Ramsey? It was fine for Dom, he'd have Brian, and Rome would have Little Nobody; Ramsey would have Tej too. Letty couldn't just sit there and spill her guts to fucking Hobbs or Mr. Nobody though. Without Elena or Mia around, she would probably be stuck in Nowhere twiddling her goddamn thumbs when they weren't all busy.

And she sure as shit wasn't going to sit there and act like Owen Shaw had any right to walk back into her life as if he'd been granted sainthood.

"Hey Mia, Letty, you two want breakfast?" Brian's shout came from downstairs. None of them had eaten since last night. With all their focus on the mission and the reality awaiting them, food had just slipped their minds. "We're gonna cook a stack of pancakes, some crispy bacon."

"Sure," yelled Mia. "Sounds good!"

"Okay!"

"So," Mia began, pushing herself up. She stood and moved to block the doorway and any chance of Letty escaping. "You wanna describe this guy?"

"Which one?"

"The cute British one."

"Half the team was British."

"The guy you liked most then. Or girl. There was another girl on the team, right?"

Oh come on. Mia wasn't going to make her rehash the whole thing, was she? They'd been over this before. "Just one. Kinda bitchy. Her name was Vegh and she was a blonde."

"The O'Conner to your Toretto."

"It wasn't like that at all."

"I don't know. Women get judgy when they're afraid that people won't like them."

"Can we please not talk about this?"

"Then get yourself a therapist or something." Perhaps Letty just thought no one would notice it, or maybe she'd swept the past under the rug. Whatever Letty had done, the cracks were beginning to show. She'd frozen at a set of traffic lights for a few seconds just last month, and before that Mia had found Letty asleep one day in the bathroom with her head on the toilet roll. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"I'll think about it. No promises. Now let's go get something to eat 'cause I am fucking starving."

"Letty."

"Mia, I love you, but you're not my mother. I don't have time to deal with my personal shit at the moment."

"Well maybe I should be." Clearly suggestions weren't going to work on her. Whenever Letty said she'd think about something, it was tantamount to saying 'no'. Unless Letty explicitly agreed to do a thing, she usually didn't end up following through on it. At no point in the past thirty-odd years had Letty ever acted like a people pleaser. "I don't want to see you get hurt again because of Dom."

"If I make an appointment after this Cipher thing is over, will you get off my ass?"

"No. It's going to get worse before it gets better. Trust me. I saw it in Dom after Dad died."

"I'm not Dom, Mia. I know I married him and took his name but I'm still me."

Yeah, she was. She was the same old stubborn fiery badass Letty who didn't stop unless someone pulled her back and made her slow down and think. The same Letty who'd gone undercover for the FBI, been blown up and lost her memories all for the sake of her boyfriend.

"Then just promise me you'll come back alive."

"A couple weeks from now, I'll walk in that door and everything will be fine. I promise."

"Are you threatening me, Shaw?"

Son of a bitch. Luke looked down at the knife then up at her. How long had she been carrying a weapon? Better yet, why hadn't the team searched her and her brothers before allowing them on the plane?

"I don't waste my breath on threats." Elizabeth turned on her heels and walked back the way she came, slipping through the gap between the two buildings, circling around another garden bed, till she finally sat herself on the concrete wall once more. Deckard and Owen were still standing there as if nothing had happened, looking somewhat tense despite how relaxed their posture was. Owen nodded his head as if acknowledging her presence or signalling Deckard — she wasn't quite sure which it was — and Deckard returned it.

"You didn't try to kill him, did you?" Deckard asked, noticing the way she carried herself. Head up, shoulders square, eyes almost blank; whatever her current state of mind was, there was a ninety-nine percent chance Hobbs had provoked it. "Because it causes problems when you start murdering people."

"I'm not you, Deckard," she said, keeping her voice flat despite Hobbs' words playing on a loop in her head. I have your family. A prison awaiting them. "I don't kill people where everyone can see me."

She has him there. Owen maintained a straight face but the crinkle between his eyebrows said he was amused. That little stunt Deckard had pulled at the hospital had been in full view of military guards, security cameras and doctors. They were lucky the British government had decided against trying to interfere with the CIA's interests, otherwise who knew where they'd be right now.

"If either of you are carrying a weapon—" Hobbs' footsteps were heavy, boots hitting the ground as if all his anger and irritation were being expressed through each thud. "—this is your opportunity to tell me now before I get a glove on and we get way too personal with the squat and cough."

"None of us brought a . . ." Deckard took a long look at Elizabeth and frowned. Now he remembered where he'd seen that look before: it was her 'I'm an innocent little girl' face, the one she used to pull when she and Owen were caught doing something illegal. "You have something to say, Beth?"

"I already said what I had to."

"No one has any guns, switchblades, or combat knives hidden under a bra strap?" Luke continued. At that, Deckard looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "Absolutely nothing I should know about?"

"Neither of us are carrying." Clearly he couldn't say the same for his sister, however Deckard had no intention of giving up his only reliable firearm. It was still strapped to his back, the same as it had been when he'd arrived at their mum's place. "Satisfied, Hobbs?"

When would he ever be satisfied? Luke wasn't an idiot. He'd seen the way Deckard's jacket sat — he was armed, but Luke had no intention of alerting Elizabeth to that fact. For no reason at all, she had just handed over her ace card, and Luke wasn't about to sign his own death certificate by running his mouth.

"If you three are done," Owen interrupted, "let's just skip to the part where you make us recite the pledge of allegiance."

"Here's a better idea: stop talking." Elizabeth closed her mouth, crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Luke as if to say 'bite me'. "Toretto gets here tomorrow morning with his team. Your sleeping quarters are at the motel. If you need access to a computer or the gym, they're in the warehouse. You want to leave the facility and hit the beach? I want an itinerary for the day detailing your every movement. You don't take a goddamn step outside that fence unless I know about it."

In other words, this was a prison and they were his bitches. Elizabeth pushed off the wall and moved to go inside. Cautiously she stepped through the doorway that led into the large warehouse, looking up, down, every direction but behind her. What is this place?

In the distance, she could see a dozen or so desks, with two shelves' worth of equipment behind them. That 'gym' Hobbs had mentioned was there as well. Weights, treadmills, mats, a rowing machine and two punching bags rigged up on chains — everything grown men needed to make themselves look tough — were shoved in a corner.

"Welcome to the Toy Shop." Once through the front door, Hobbs stood next to Elizabeth on a large metal stairwell, with three flights of stairs to descend before he reached the warehouse floor. Luke approached the railing and leaned against it, eyeballing the thirty foot drop to the ground. "If you can't find what you need here—"

"Ask for it to be delivered?"

The foundations of the warehouse had been set deep into the ground, allowing for increased height and two mezzanine levels to be built at either end of the structure. The mezzanine to his right, just below their feet, held a well-equipped kitchen and unisex bathroom with toilets and showers. The other, at the far end, hid a conference room and computer lab: everything Ramsey and Parker would need to find and track Cipher.

"So you know how it works then."

"Same shit, different boss." Elizabeth took the first set of stairs down and pushed open the door to the mezzanine. All that lay inside was an empty L-shaped corridor with two closed doors. "You're jamming the signals out here, aren't you? No phone reception, wi-fi or TV?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask your boss that."

So they weren't working for Hobbs? If not him then who? Who the hell had the kind of clout needed to transport three people across international waters without anyone querying what they were doing, let alone use military aircraft to do so. "Pity. Here I am thinking I'd struck gold with you pulling my strings. Good-looking bloke with a nice arse and all that."

"Excuse me?"

She let the door swing shut and took the second set of stairs down, then the third, keeping her head down so as to hide the smirk on her face. The easiest way to throw a man off his game was compliments, flirtation. Hobbs didn't seem like the type to think with his dick instead of his brain but who knew? Now they were stuck working together, maybe an opportunity would arise that she could take advantage of.

As soon as Luke's feet landed on cement, he looked up, waiting for Deckard and Owen to catch up to them. The sooner there was some distance between himself and the Shaws, the sooner he could stop looking over his shoulder. He had no doubts about his ability to put Deckard in a hospital and yet the presence of the other two made him uneasy. Their files described them as loose cannons in the worst possible way. Luke's own past encounters with them also told him he was going to be sleeping with one eye open till this whole thing was over.

"Where are the cars?" Deckard asked once he was standing on the warehouse floor. "We can't chase Cipher on mopeds."

"Or in Ladas," Elizabeth muttered.

"They'll be delivered tomorrow once you've decided what you're driving." Eric approached the group and held up a thick folio. While Hobbs had been playing Patty Cake with the Shaws outside, he'd been getting things organised. This time, they were keeping everything close to the chest, trying to fly as far under the radar as possible. If Cipher found them before they found her, it was game over. "Go through it. Pick your car. Just make sure that whatever you choose, it's not a neon orange Lamborghini."

"Do you have anything Russian-made in there?"

"I don't know." Reisner gave an apologetic shrug to Elizabeth then handed the folio over to Hobbs. "It's whatever we seize or other departments loan us. Oh, uh, there's no Land Rovers this time. Sorry, Deckard."

"Oh." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "What a shame. I'm still waiting on this bastard to fix that mirror."

"Might as well start digging your grave." Hobbs clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "You're gonna be waiting a while for that to happen."

Owen stepped up to Beth's side and slid his arm around her shoulders as their brother and Hobbs began acting friendly, eyeballing Deckard all the while. Something had changed in him but Owen couldn't pinpoint it. Outside of his former SAS team, Owen had never seen Deckard act 'chummy' with other blokes. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "What do you need me to get?"

"Raspberry Pis, USB ports, disposable phones; a burnt copy of Linux," she murmured, matching his pitch. "Any good tech shop should have the Pi."

"But if the signal here is jammed—"

"There has to be a gap somewhere, or a weak point. Jammers have limited range. We drive around and find it or piggyback their network somehow."

"They'll likely be monitoring the traffic flow."

"I know." Fuck, they would be, wouldn't they? If she was forced to use the GPS' own satellite connection, she'd have to time the messages to cover their tracks. Beth rubbed her eyes and rested her head against Owen's bicep, covering her mouth when she yawned. "I'll figure something out. Deckard won't walk away without Cipher and we're not walking away without her money."

"So where's this motel then, Hobbs?" Deckard said, noticing the way Owen was keeping their sister upright. Maybe an extra hour's sleep would do them all some good. It would also allow him time to go through Little Nobody's book of cars and find something that could hold up under a heavy load of armour plating. "Can't imagine you'd fit on a cot."

"Oh, you're here for the complete tour. Alright then. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to begin by pointing out that what you see here," Luke gestured to Deckard, "is a unique specimen native only to the UK: the British asshole."

Chapter Text

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at the open doorway of Cipher's office and the tall ginger standing within it. Despite the knowledge that Connor was Cipher's right-hand man, she simply didn't like the look of him, or any of them actually. Americans could never be relied upon to keep their mouths closed and their opinions to themselves nor trusted to carry out a job properly. "I thought you said we'd have privacy."

"Relax. What is it, Rhodes?"

"There's a DSS agent sniffing around. He's looking for Owen Shaw."

Well that didn't sound good. Who the hell were the DSS and how had they caught wind of her brother? Beth turned her chair around to face Rhodes and waited for him to continue. Instead, Cipher broke the silence first.

"What's his name?"

"Luke Hobbs."

Shit. Hobbs had a reputation — even among the circles she moved in — for tracking the toughest targets down no matter the distance. Cipher frowned, laying out the options in her head as to how she could deal with him, then glanced at Elizabeth and the pensive look on her face. "You should go. I'll drop you off at the airport. It's almost time for Maslenitsa, isn't it?"

"Almost." She remembered Elizabeth wasn't practising Orthodox, didn't she? Religious status didn't stop anyone from gorging themselves on pancakes but nonetheless, it wasn't reason enough for her to leave early when there was still so much to do. They were also thirty thousand feet in the air where leaving wasn't as simple as walking out the front door. "Who's Hobbs?"

"Nobody you need to worry about. Just focus on getting those EMPs built and working. I'll contact you again in a month."

"Hey Alice, you with us or still off in Wonderland?"

She glanced down from the folio, making sure her feet were firmly in the middle of the nature strip. They'd been walking around for ten minutes now and Hobbs had said almost nothing beyond 'don't go in that building, or that one, or that other one' and 'I expect you to be on your best behaviour' as if they were troublesome children and he their schoolmaster. "I'll take the two Marussias and whatever spare parts you have."

"The F2 and B2?" Eric questioned, scrolling down through a screen on his phone. If she was sure, he'd send the details immediately to Mr. Nobody. Keeping things compartmentalised, however annoying the protocol was, allowed for a small sense of security. Without Cipher knowing which cars they planned to use, she couldn't have her goons plant any kind of bug or tracking device.

"That's what I said. Both."

"What about the Zhigulis?" He'd seen her looking at them with a fondness in her eyes, as if they held some kind of importance. Personally, Little Nobody thought they were old pieces of crap that needed to be condemned to a wrecking yard, but what did he know?

"Um, yes, those too."

"You don't need four cars," Deckard said. Marussia? Zhiguli? What kind of crappy imports were they? "Three's enough between us."

"And you don't need to act like Dad." The names rang bells in Owen's mind yet he couldn't pinpoint where the familiarity came from. "She's not running the mission with us, Deck. Better she improves her mechanical skills than sits around twiddling her thumbs all day."

It was the way Owen spoke that made the words sit uneasy in the back of Beth's mind. Of course she was going to improve her skills. What else was there to do besides work? Once the cars were armoured, she'd have to wire in the GPS systems with their inbuilt tracking devices, make certain the radios worked and the frequency was clear. God forbid any of them have some fun.

"Right, and you haven't been channelling Mum with all your bloody whispering. What are you two planning? Revenge on Toretto? Things have changed, Owen. We need to stay focused."

"Well someone should bury him for what he did to our family." She shut the folio and handed it to Little Nobody, giving Deckard one long hard look before she picked up the pace. Hobbs was only a few metres ahead of them but his stride was still much bigger than hers. It took her thirty seconds to catch up to him then a few more to match his pace. "Hey, Fed, how long till this tour finishes?"

"Why? You got somewhere better to be?"

"Yes. The warehouse."

". . . I'm gonna guess this little chat means you want your knife back." It was strapped to his belt just behind his revolver, concealed by his holster.

"No, you can keep it. It was a little too light for my grip." Combat knives were meant to be carried around constantly, unlike a good solid kitchen knife. She preferred the latter any day over military-grade equipment. They were far more accessible and could be left in plain sight without anyone batting an eyelid. "I just don't want to be stuck with Moe and Curly all afternoon."

"Ah, well, you'd have my sympathies if you weren't hellbent on being a pain in my ass."

"I wouldn't say hellbent."

"You got a star tattooed on your knee."

"It sends a message."

"The kind that paints a target on your back if anyone sees it."

"Who else was going to do it for me?" Those days were long behind the mob, she thought. Men didn't carry their crimes like brands of honour or marks of war anymore. Call her a little outdated and nostalgic but after everything, a small tattoo was the least she could've done. "Women don't get congratulations for killing a man with their bare hands where I come from."

"So what do you want?"

"Exercise privileges. There's no treadmill in your gym."

He came to a halt and rounded on her, hands on his hips. The lack of a treadmill was unfortunate but Hobbs couldn't do anything about that. Equipment and furnishings had been the CIA's domain. "You want me to let you loose after you've been here for less than two hours? Try utilising a little quid pro quo."

Elizabeth looked at him incredulously. Did he hear himself? "You kidnap my brothers and I, threaten them with prison time if I don't work for you, try to split us up, hold prison over my head as if it's a guillotine—"

Deckard whacked Owen in the shoulder and gestured towards Hobbs. He'd caught the last few words and heard the tone of their voices. None of it sounded good. "You take her, I'll take him."

"No. I've got him, you deal with her."

"I'm not keen on getting punched again, Scarface."

"You're the oldest, Deck. Talking to girls was always more your thing than mine."

Oh for God's sake. Owen really had inherited their Mum's penchant for crocodile tears and manipulation. "Fine."

"—and then when push comes to shove you want even more than what you've already got?" Elizabeth stepped closer, getting in his face as much as their height difference allowed. "Go to hell."

"You keep running your mouth and this won't end well for you."

"Nor you. Considering what happened last time you went up against Cipher, I wouldn't count on your safety being guaranteed."

Alright, that was enough bullshit for one day. Luke reached for the cuffs on his belt and secured one end around Elizabeth's left wrist. He controlled her arm, forcing her to turn around, only to receive a headbutt to the jaw. It rattled his skull, jarring him for a moment, but the lack of force behind it meant the pain faded almost immediately.

"You really don't wanna do this dance with me again, woman."

"Oh? I thought you'd be good at that kind of thing." She smiled to herself, reaching behind her with her uncuffed hand. Hobbs had kept the knife on his right hip, and with his corresponding hand busy, he wouldn't be able to stop her pulling it free. "What do you prefer, the tango or waltz?"

"Beth." Deckard grabbed her shoulder and squeezed, unable to step between the two without forcing them apart and breaking Hobbs' grip. "Don't."

Three seconds was all it would take. One to slide the knife free, two to bury it between his ribs and puncture his lung, assuming he wasn't wearing any kevlar under his shirt. Given their isolation, it seemed fair enough to say there wouldn't be any kind of fully-equipped operating room with a team of doctors on standby. A deep stab wound this far from a hospital would (most likely) result in death.

"Bravo Team." Luke grabbed her right wrist just as her fingers touched the hilt of the knife, twisted her forearm up and secured the other cuff. His earpiece proceeded to beep twice in acknowledgement that the team had heard him. "Escort Miss Shaw to a holding cell."

"Hobbs!"

Owen stood silent only a few feet away, his body tense, alert. If he intervened, put Hobbs on the ground and that knife through his carotid, they'd haul him away too, and then how would their plans work out? So much for being charming. Elizabeth had tried doing things her way and blown it. As usual, he would have to take care of everything himself.

"There's an encrypted landline inside. Go call Hattie." They didn't have time for this bullshit. Cipher was God knew where with God knew who and their situation had rapidly escalated. The last thing he wanted was to risk exposure but what other choice did he have? "Get her ass here now."

"Hattie's busy." Not to mention she was still recovering. Being infected with a bioweapon and subsequently having it slowly filtered from your bloodstream put a lot of stress on a person's body.

Hattie—

"You compromised our sister's safety for this bastard?" Elizabeth turned her head to look at Deckard. There was only one way for Hobbs to know Hattie existed, let alone that they were related. If her hands hadn't been restrained, she would've punched him in the face for what he'd done. "What were you thinking?"

"She was willing to die for the mission, I didn't have a choice . . . Hatts said it was over!"

"Is she okay?" The knowledge Hattie had almost died while she'd been living it up in Cuba certainly put a dampener on things. Elizabeth didn't fight when Hobbs walked her towards a black sedan that pulled up besides them or resist when he helped her to step in. If Hattie had said it was over then she really had been prepared to give up and take a bullet. God, what'd happened to their family? "Deck! She's okay, right?"

"Yeah. Of course." Deckard forced himself to smile, chin up and spine straight. I don't know, Elle. I don't bloody know. The physical scars would fade with time as they were wont to do. The mental ones were the problem — he couldn't see them, couldn't put a band-aid on them. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

Dom shuddered against her one last time then rolled onto his back, letting Letty drape herself across his body. He brushed her fringe out of her face, traced the line of her jaw with his fingers and kissed her once more. It was sheer luck Letty was still with him, something he hadn't been able to appreciate till they'd been to hell and back. Now he knew she was the only woman he wanted to spend his life with. "I'm gonna miss this."

"Why? You don't think Hobbs will have us hole up in some abbey tomorrow, do you?" Letty teased. The sheets had slipped down past her waist, tangling around her ankles and calves, exposing a multitude of thin faded scars. She leaned up, shifting closer till she could rest her head on his chest, pressing her cheek flush against his warm bronzed skin. "I don't care if we're surrounded by monks, we can still have fun."

Nah, it wasn't that, he thought. If only. That kind of thing would've been easy to deal with. He'd already told Letty he wanted her with him but still it felt like there was more to say. Whatever it was, it was stuck on the tip of his tongue. "Fun, huh?"

"What is it, Dom? You've got that look on your face like . . ." The crinkles at the corners of his eyes suggested it was some kind of sadness. She pushed herself up, swung her left leg over him completely, moving to sink down on him once more and straddle him. "I love you, Dominic Toretto."

"I know." He lifted his hips to meet her, groaned at the sensation of her enveloping him. Dom reached up to fist a handful of her hair, eyes fluttering closed the moment Letty rocked her hips. "I've always known that."

"And I love our son too. This family we've got. The family we're going to have. I'm never going to let anyone take it from me again, but I can't keep fighting for it on my own."

"Letty—" He opened his eyes, staring up at her. The dim sunlight coming through the window cast a glow over Letty's skin and made her look like some kind of angel. "I'll always fight with you. I said that. I promised it the night we got married."

"Then why didn't you save me?"

What was she talking about? "I did save you."

"No, you didn't. You drove off with Elena and left me on the Antonov with Shaw."

"Dom?" Brian shook him gently, keeping at arm's length. "Hey, come on, it's time to wake up, buddy."

"Letty, I—"

"Dominic Carlos Toretto, get your ass up."

He groaned, slowly opening his eyes as he sat up on the couch. The image of Letty faded to the recesses of his mind but her words still lingered, as did the sensation of her body on his. Dom rubbed his neck to ease the tension and leaned forward only to wince as pain shot up his spine. Brian immediately pulled him to his feet and patted him on the shoulder, grinning at him.

"Man, you can sleep."

"Sorry." Dom stretched out the kinks in his arms, rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. The scent of hot meat, spiced rice and vegetables wafted out from the kitchen and made his stomach growl. "Any word from Hobbs?"

"Nah. He's probably got his hands full."

Good, he thought. The longer it took Hobbs or Nobody to turn up, the more time they'd have to prepare. "What did you think of the schematics?"

"I don't know. A normal job takes about six weeks to complete." Those kinds of armouring jobs also had 3D mapping equipment to measure the panels. All they would have was their eyes, skills, and a pile of kevlar sheeting. "Cipher could be on our asses in two."

"You know, I don't think she's going to be looking for us here any time soon."

Brian wanted to ask what exactly Ramsey and Tej had been up to but he was afraid the technical jargon would make his brain implode. "Well that's good."

"That's what I said."

"Yo Dom, Brian," Rome shouted from the backyard. "Hurry it up, we're starving out here!"

"Well maybe that's a good thing," Brian retorted. "Losing a couple pounds might help you fly better the next time you drive out of a plane."

"Like that's gonna happen." He shifted in his seat and looked towards Tej and Ramsey. The smirk on Tej's face couldn't be hidden even under his hand. "What? You got something to say too?"

Tej shrugged. He certainly did but Rome wouldn't like it. "I was just thinking we could get you a heat pack in case your balls seize up again. It gets cold up there with the altitude, you know."

"Oh my God," Ramsey groaned, scooting her chair half an inch across. Maybe if she got close enough to Mia and Letty, Tej and Rome would forget she was there. "No more talk of balls. You two are starting to sound like Hobbs and—"

"I know what you're gonna say. Don't compare me to that Boss Baby lookin-ass."

"You want food? Come help carry some plates, man," Brian said, standing in the back doorway with a pile of warmed plates. "I thought you two said you were going to set the table."

"It ain't my fault. He distracted me with all his computer hacker talk."

"No, I didn't." Tej pointed at Rome and mimed drinking. "Your ass is just lazy."

Lazy? He wasn't the one always sitting on his laptop. Roman gave Tej a shove before standing up and taking half the stack from Brian's hands. "Ladies, here you go." Roman grinned, proceeding to set three plates down before Letty, Mia and Ramsey. "Tonight at Casa Toretto we have a lovely—"

"Roman, hurry it up or the food's gonna get cold."

"Shit. Alright, alright, where's the forks?"

As Roman and Brian hurried to get things sorted, Mia leaned sideways towards Letty and asked, "So how did you convince Dom to do all the cooking?"

"Simple. I told him he and Brian would be doing it, no questions asked."

"You told him?"

"C'mon, Mia." Letty sat up in her chair and adjusted her cushion while Dom carried out two large oven dishes. When did Letty not get what she wanted, when she wanted it? The only time she'd ever truly suggested Dom do something had been on their first date. "You know how these things work."

"I've told Dom to do a lot of things and he doesn't follow through on them."

"The problem is you don't have to put out."

They'd once agreed never to talk about Letty's sex life with Dom, yet there she went putting the image in Mia's mind. Clearly that agreement had been momentarily thrown out the window. Mia nodded and watched Brian finish setting up the table, a contemplative look on her face. "I see."

"It's all in the pants, Mia," Letty whispered. The grin on her face said she was struggling not to burst out laughing. "You just dangle the carrot and if he doesn't do what you want, no sex for a week."

"A week? We haven't had sex in a month."

"Girl, you got problems, but Brian isn't one of them."

Right, she had two kids and a husband with a penchant for trouble. Sophie was sleeping rough, Jack woke up irritable in the mornings, and now her family was leaving. "You can say that again."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The sun filtered through the windows that lined the roof of the warehouse, warming the air inside the building and providing enough light that the overhead fluorescents were presently turned off. Luke walked down the centre aisle, making his way towards the group of work stations and the figure slumped in one of the chairs. With their back to him and a jacket half-covering their head, he wasn't quite sure which one of the Shaws it was till he got closer.

Hobbs picked up the cold soldering iron from its holder and tapped it against the heavy metal desk. The loud clang rang in his ears twice more when Luke struck the desk again and again. "Time to wake up, Shaw!"

"I'm resting my eyes. What do you want?"

Awake already? That was a surprise, or perhaps Shaw hadn't slept. He'd set up a cot for himself in the corridor of the eastern mezzanine and slept there overnight while Deckard and Owen had helped themselves to a motel room. Twice, he'd gotten up and looked out across the warehouse to see Elizabeth still at her work station or standing in front of a portable whiteboard, marker in hand, writing out some kind of formula. "Toretto and his team arrive in two hours. Take the time to freshen up."

Elizabeth reached up and slid her jacket off her head, squinting up at him. There were bags under her eyes and her bottom lip was slightly puffed. Hobbs leaned against her desk, a nonplussed look on his face, as if this were some casual visit on her behalf and she hadn't been kidnapped by his friends. "Wh—"

"It's seven o'clock."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Her stomach rumbled as if to remind her that tea and a packet of cookies were not adequate early morning snacks. She groaned, sat forward and winced when pain radiated up her back. "Well," Elizabeth pushed herself up off the chair and stretched, working out the kinks in her shoulders, "I'm gonna go get some sleep."

"Or you can get your ass in a shower, eat something—" he looked down at the trash can beside her work station; three stained styrofoam cups stuck out of it among plastic packaging "—decent and get ready to meet your new team."

"You know, it's funny but I don't remember signing a piece of paper that said I'd be your bitch." Elizabeth tossed her jacket over her shoulder and gave him a slight wave of her fingers before she stepped past Hobbs and walked towards the lift. Even one hour of sleep would be enough to keep her going for the rest of the day. "I'll see you in two hours."

Luke frowned as Shaw strutted away, arrogant as ever. His not-quite-order had gone completely ignored while she walked off as if last night's conversation had given her the idea that she owned the air she breathed. "I said I'd turn a blind eye to your shenanigans, not your—"

"It's called effective time management." She stepped onto the lift and pushed the 'up' button. It was a twenty minute walk to the motel itself, or an eight minute drive. Considering their cars were yet to arrive, Elizabeth would just have to haul ass this morning. "Maybe you should ask Deckard about it, Fed, you might learn something!"

"If you're ten seconds late . . ."

"I can't hear you." Elizabeth gestured to the lift, smiling all the while. The hiss of the hydraulics, the distance between them and loud hum of the motor all served to block out whatever Hobbs was saying. "It's too loud!"

He scowled, glaring at her from where he stood. Luke dropped the soldering iron back on her desk and eyed the bright yellow post-it note in the middle of the whiteboard that read 'do not erase'. Beneath it, calculations were written out messily, with arrows pointing to sections of them alongside notes in Russian cursive.

Only one thing stood out to Luke: C-4.

"What exactly are you planning on blowing up?" Hobbs murmured. He lifted a schematic for a standard refrigerated truck and reached for a hand-drawn diagram from the top of the stack. "Door's hinges are on the inside, and if Cipher has them monitored, she'll know if we—"

"Make sure you put them back where you found them."

Luke dropped his hands to his waist, diagram and schematic falling to the floor, and drew his revolver in one smooth motion, taking aim at Deckard's chest. "I told you last time, you bald sumbitch, don't sneak up on me."

"Who's sneaking?" Deckard scoffed and helped himself to a seat. He leaned back, resting his feet on the edge of the desk. "A herd of elephants could've come through here and you wouldn't have noticed."

"Right. Care for a sparring session, Captain?"

Sparring? That was what Hobbs wanted to call it? Maybe he didn't understand the concept of having your arse kicked but that was exactly what would happen. "You mean a rematch."

Oh it's on. Luke peeled off his tank top and tossed it towards the corner gym. "If we had a rematch, you would end up smeared on the floor. Consider this fun between friends."

"I think those hits from Brixton did some damage to your brain. We," Deckard gestured between the pair of them, "are not friends, but you're right about one thing: this will be fun."

They had two hours and free reign of the warehouse — of course it would be. Luke crossed his arms over his chest in a stretch then slipped his boots off, dropping them next to his tank. He did a couple squats and crunches, loosening his legs, and gestured at Deckard to hurry up. "Aww, really? I thought we were having a beautiful bromance."

Deckard unbuttoned his shirt, making certain the sleeves didn't slide into themselves, and folded it over the back of a chair. His shoes he left beneath it. The seconds ticked by as he approached Luke, feet sinking into the foam mats beneath him, eyebrows pinched and eyes fixed on Hobbs in a cold glare. "The only romance you were having was with my sister, who I repeatedly told you to stay away from, but you just didn't listen."

"Oh, so you want to play, Princess."

"Hobbs."

"I'm only joking. There's nothing between you and me, but I meant what I said on the pl—"

He was flat on his back inside of three seconds, Deckard's foot pressing against his breastbone. "You just had to open your big mouth."

With that, there was a little under one hour and fifty-six minutes.

"Owen!" She thumped the door of his motel room twice, foot tapping the concrete step impatiently. Elizabeth's heart pounded in her chest, calves aching from the sprint she'd broken into. Around her, a dozen rooms faced each other, divided by a large parking lot, with six on both the east and west sides. At the north end of the lot, a concrete walking track began, leading away from the motel and curving off to the east out of sight. "Wake your arse up."

"It's unlocked."

Oh. Good. Elizabeth twisted the handle and shouldered the door open, letting it swing shut behind her once she was out of the way. "Hobbs said Toretto will be here at nine. You mind if I crash on your—"

Towel wrapped around his waist and choppy curls dripping with water, Owen stood in the bathroom doorway and gestured to the large double bed. Elizabeth was stretched out on it in moments, half asleep by the time her head hit the pillow. He sat on the end of the mattress and used a spare towel to dry his hair, flinging water droplets in every direction. Beth jabbed him in the ribs with her foot in retaliation but made no effort to put any force behind it.

"I'll wake you in an hour."

"Thanks."

"And Hobbs is in room twelve so you should take eleven."

That didn't sound like a suggestion. "Is this a strategic thing or are you trying to torture me?"

""A little of both."

Elizabeth lifted her head to squint at him and scowled. Of course it was. Being in the motel room next to Hobbs would have her awake when he was, potentially allow her to listen in on any conversations, and give her the second-best access point to the footpath she'd seen. "You're a sadist."

"Says the woman who crossed Europe for the sake of revenge."

"I didn't. . ." God, she couldn't lie to him, could she? Owen was the one who could look her in the eye and see right through the bullshit. The only one who knew exactly what she'd done, what she'd buried in the past and would never admit aloud. "What's your point?"

"Sooner or later, Cipher is going to talk. She needs to be silenced before then whether you like it or not."

Desert, desert and more desert surrounded them. No matter which window Tej looked out of, there was nothing but sealed road and dust. And then suddenly it was there, spread out ahead of them: an electric gate and fencing stretching out to their left and right as far as the eye could see. Beyond it, multi-storey glass buildings loomed on the horizon. "The hell are we?"

"Looks like Area 52 to me." Roman craned his head over the Tej's seat to stare out the front windshield. "I bet you this is where the real shit happens. Creepy place in the middle of nowhere."

"Well it was either this or an old abandoned mine so consider yourself lucky, Roman." Little Nobody looked over his shoulder at Pearce and smiled. "Oh, yeah, we could've been in a plane too."

"Nah, I ain't getting on no plane with your asses again. You can take that idea and—"

"Hey, Rome," Brian called from one of the front seats, a shit-eating grin on his face, right fist and middle finger upright. "How do you like my minivan now?"

"Shut up and drive, man."

"You know, maybe if you're good, I'll buy you an ice cream when we get there."

"I swear if you two don't shut up, I'm gonna knock you both out," Letty warned. Duffel bag in her lap, she watched and waited as the facility drew near. Beside her, Dom sat with his arm around her shoulders, fingers gently pressing into her bicep. "Don't make me come back there."

"Sorry, Letty." Rome flinched as Ramsey leaned over her seat and punched him in the arm. "Ow, what was that for?"

Her afro was combed and tied back, out of reach of anyone who might try and grab it. Laptop bag slung over her shoulder and earbuds in, Ramsey looked every bit the hacker, and beautiful woman, that she was. "A warning."

"Huh. Well you punch like my gra—"

"Don't go there, man," Tej said, shaking his head. "Just don't."

"Hey, Driver." Dom leaned across the aisle to tap Brian on the shoulder. "Do I get an ice cream?"

Letty rolled her eyes, muttered "oh my God" as she rested her head against the window. She lifted an iced bottle of water from her lap and took a sip, pressed it to her forehead in an attempt to cool her face. Tugging at her sleeveless top to fan herself, Letty sighed, slumping down into the seat.

"For you, Mr. Toretto, of course."

As they passed through the gate, Little Nobody reached for the handheld radio clipped to his belt. "Hobbs, we just drove in. We'll be there in a few minutes."

"Roger that."

Ramsey glanced down at her laptop then out the window. A radio transmission could potentially travel for a mile out here without interference. "So you said there's no signal out here, right?"

"Right. Almost everything's been jammed." Beyond the frequencies and connections they were using, the tech guys had assured them the site was secure. All Little and Mr. Nobody could do was take them at their word. "We can't hide from imaging satellites but if anyone here tries connecting to the outside world or vice versa, the firewall will block them."

"That means Cipher could already know where we are," Tej said warily. Except for standing inside a building, or destroying the satellite itself, there was no real way to hide from eyes in the sky. The government could 'ask' companies not to photograph their facilities but their control over the end result was minimal.

"Sure," Eric hesitated. How was he supposed to know what had gone on behind the scenes? While his fellow employees had been setting up, he was on a plane with Hobbs and Mr. Nobody, headed for Cuba. If Ramsey and Tej wanted to know more, they'd have to ask the goddamn IT guys. "But we have her plane and she has no copy of God's Eye."

"Cipher's a hacker. Can't she just hack her way into that shit?"

"It doesn't work like that, Roman."

"Tell that to the submarine."

"Alright, kids, the wheels on the bus stopped going round and round." Brian waved to catch their attention. "Everybody off! Let's go, come on."

With all their gear in tow, Brian's suggestion to take his and Mia's pimped-out eight-seater soccer mom van had seemed like a good idea at the time. Half an hour into the ride, Dom had come to regret it. As Roman and Tej exited the car via the side door, he asked, "Letty, you coming?"

"Yeah, I just need a minute." Letty wiped the sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt, still gazing blankly out the window. All the memories she'd suppressed after Spain were rushing back, hitting her in one massive tidal wave, and she was struggling to handle them. Letty had done what the books suggested, written out her feelings on paper and burned it afterwards, but none of it had healed the gaping wound Spain left inside her.

The gaping wound caused by Owen fucking Shaw.

That asshole nearly killed his entire team, including you, Letty reminded herself. Stop moping and get angry. There's no problem that can't be fixed by punching him in the face.

"Letty!" Dom gestured from the warehouse's side entrance. He watched her climb out, water bottle in hand, and leave her duffel bag in the car before slamming the sliding door shut behind her. "You know you can talk to me," he said once she was within earshot. I love you, remember? "About anything."

"I'm good. The heat's a little intense."

"Yeah, it is." Without the coastal breeze they got in L.A, there was nothing to stave off the heat. "It's the Shaws, isn't it?"

"It's more than them. I—" Letty swallowed, rested her forehead against his chest. Things weren't always easy but the one solid thing Letty had to lean on was him. I don't want to die. "I'm scared, Dom."

"So am I." He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the forehead. "But we've got each other and the team. Nothing's gonna happen to you or anyone else, Letty, I won't let it. Elena would kill me if I did."

Her lips curved up in a smile. Letty kissed him on the lips and pat Dom on the chest then took his hand in hers, guiding him inside. Assembled at the bottom of the stairs were Brian and the others, with Hobbs and Little Nobody two feet away.

"Long time no see, cop." Dom nodded at Hobbs in acknowledgment, keeping his fingers laced between Letty's. Her grip was easy, relaxed, but the way she stroked his hand with her thumb said she was still a little on edge. He couldn't blame her for that. It made Dom uneasy just knowing that psychopath was in the same country as them.

Luke returned the nod. "Dom."

"Let's just get this over with."

"They're down the other end." Or Deckard was, in any case. The other two had walked in with ten minutes to spare and Elizabeth had subsequently disappeared (again). Only God knew where she was because Luke certainly didn't.

"Toretto."

Dom shifted his attention to the tall bald Englishman standing behind Hobbs and the dark-haired son of a bitch next to him. "Shaw."

"How's the kid?"

"Growing."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

"It's too risky."

"Everything is a risk, Hobbs. Doesn't change the fact they're right about this." Letty stood in the doorway, looking at him as if he were no more than some local cop in her way. After leaving the Shaws in her proverbial rear view, she'd followed Tej and the others upstairs. Like Letty had told herself at the house, she was the one who'd be taking charge of the mission. "We need access to that plane."

"Unfortunately it's still on the other side of the country."

"You left it in New York?" Deckard looked at Hobbs as if he'd just said they'd handed the plane back to Cipher. What good was it sitting there when the team were here? "Tell me they at least kept the cargo bay doors open."

"I don't know, Deckard. I'm not the one running the goddamn show." They all seemed to defer to him, rely on him, yet none of them noticed he wasn't the top of the food chain anymore. This was Mr. Nobody's building, not his, and he certainly wasn't about to risk his career by stepping on any toes. The hierarchy never liked it when people with field experience embraced the fact they knew more than the assholes at the top of the ladder.

"Then point me in the direction of who is," Letty interrupted. "Getting on that plane is the only thing that gets us close to Cipher. Your truck could be anywhere, in any country. Without a license plate, it's a needle in a haystack."

"Splitting the team up this early is a bad idea." Brian leaned towards Dom. "We need to start working on those cars. It's gonna take all hands on deck to get it done."

"Reisner, make the call," Luke relented. He might not be in charge but the kid was still susceptible to a fist up his ass. "Get them access to that plane."

"I—" Little Nobody swallowed and looked away, avoiding catching anyone's eye. How was he meant to tell them it'd been under their noses the entire time? "They were in the process of dismantling it when—"

Jesus Christ. It had exploded, Deckard thought, hadn't it? They couldn't get onboard the plane because there was nothing left of it but shrapnel. "Spit it out."

"They transported it here two weeks ago but someone triggered the security system. We can't get back inside."

"What about your handprint, Toretto? Can it open any doors?"

"No."

"Owen?"

"No." For once, it wasn't a lie. It sounded like Cipher had kept that plane locked up tighter than Fort Knox if they were talking biometrics. Not to mention he'd been onboard a grand total of zero times prior to their rescue of Baby Toretto. There was a reason Owen had said he'd enjoy having it. "I didn't know she had a plane."

Guess it's time to blow something up. Letty caught Ramsey's eye and gestured towards the door. If the plane really was here, they only had to find it and crack it open like a sardine can. Shaw could rig up a charge or two, or cut through the fuselage. If not, Ramsey had her laptop. With any luck, her hacking skills would do them some good.

Letty exited the room without another word, Ramsey on her tail, and rushed downstairs. "Shaw, grab whatever you need to blow or cut a hole in a plane."

"What?" A plane? What the hell was Letty talking about? Unless Ortiz planned on trashing the plane that was due to arrive by tonight with the rest of their cars, there was nothing to blow up. Elizabeth glanced up warily from a small circuit board and watched Letty start up the Corvette.

"Davai!" Let's go!

"I'm busy." With all signals jammed, there was no way to connect to an external network, sans a workaround of course. The board on her desk was it. If she could cobble together a transmitter, get that Pi, a touchscreen GPS to serve as a display, and subsequently find a satellite dish on a roof somewhere, Elizabeth would have all she needed to piggyback their network. Assuming this makeshift monstrosity worked. "Ask someone else."

"We all are, and I'm asking you. Cipher's plane is around here somewhere so I need you to pack up your shit and bring it with you."

Cipher's—

God's sake. She slid the circuitry back into its plastic bag and sealed it, disconnected her tools from the power sockets. Elizabeth muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she walked towards the car. "You're bossy, you know that?"

Letty smiled. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No." Yes. Maybe. As long as Ortiz avoided unknowingly crossing any personal boundaries. Not that Letty would cross them — she didn't seem the type in more ways than one. Elizabeth climbed into the Corvette and sat, one leg in the car, one out.

"You know, I said grab your shit."

"We won't need it."

She was about to ask why when Letty glanced down. Deckard had asked Dom about his handprint. The way Shaw was sitting there, clenching and unclenching her fists, said the answer was right in front of her. "So how long did you work for Cipher?"

Elizabeth turned toward her and looked Letty in the eye; with one hand on the dash, Beth was as ready as she'd ever be to hop out of the car at a moment's notice. "Who said I worked for her?"

"She went after Deckard first. When he refused, she approached your other brother." That assumed Elizabeth was actually their sister. The last thing she needed was another one of Owen Shaw's girlfriends popping up out of nowhere. "Why not you as well?"

"If you're trying to accuse me of something, either spit it out or start the car."

That was a little aggressive, even by Letty's standards. All she'd done was ask a question. "I'm not making accusations. I just want to know if you worked for the bitch that kidnapped my family."

"No, I didn't work for her." At no point had Cipher ever insinuated Elizabeth was her employee. She hadn't been paid a salary or wage, only a commission. Theirs had been a relationship based on mutual benefit, and her strong desire to keep Owen alive. "What are you trying to figure out, Letty?"

"Should I come back later?" Ramsey said, leaning down to look into the car. She glanced at the two occupied front seats and what amounted to a small storage space behind them. "And, um, how exactly are we going to fit ourselves and our gear in here?"

"We're not." Elizabeth stepped out of the car, ducking under Ramsey's arm. "If you're going to cut through fuselage, you'll need torches, and some way of reaching it. I don't see any ropes around, do you?"

"You planning on going somewhere, Shaw?"

Oh for God's sake. "No, I'm not," she said, shooting Hobbs a look as he approached. It was always something with these people, wasn't it? Hobbs wanted her to steal billions of dollars, Letty wanted her to punch a hole through a plane, and Owen — he only asked for commitment and loyalty, something of hers he already had. "But your teammate over there is."

"Well I'm sure Letty can handle herself."

Behind him, Toretto stared towards Letty, and O'Conner stood next to him. Tej and Roman looked at each other then at Ramsey while Deckard kept his eyes on Hobbs.

Shaw was hiding something. That whole double name thing, the way Owen seemed to allow himself to be made the butt of a joke when he normally would've glowered and threatened the person; her resorting to aggression when a simple 'yes' or 'no' would've sufficed. Everything about her sounded like a red flag. Who are you?

The woman just didn't quit, did she, Elizabeth thought. What did Ortiz want to hear? It was all in her file, the one Hobbs undoubtedly had stashed somewhere in an office. If she wanted to hash it all out, the end result would be Letty — or Toretto, either one was fine with her — on the floor with Elizabeth's fist in her face. "I don't ask you questions about your past, don't ask me about mine."

I knew we should've called Hattie. Deckard cringed, avoiding eye contact with either Owen or his sister as he stood there. Beth returned to her desk in silence and busied herself while Letty stared daggers at her back. His sister's words hadn't gone unheard, however. What exactly had Ortiz been asking? And why?

"So what's the plan, Letty?" Dom asked, breaking the tension. "You got the whole team here."

"Little Nobody gives us the plane's location. We cut a hole in the roof and get inside through the cavity."

"Alright." Brian smiled at Dom. "But this won't be like that train in Brazil, man. We're gonna have to drill a hole first, get a camera in there before we start cutting."

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? The team. Letty had the team at her back, always, and it didn't include the Shaws or Hobbs. The former would always be the enemy, the latter a federal agent sworn to uphold the law. Hobbs had been serious in Vladovin when he'd talked of taking Dom down, and she just as serious when she told him that he'd have to take her down too.

"Yo Little," Roman nudged him, "where is it then?"

"Three klicks west of here, in the hangar at the end of the runway."

"What the hell is a klick? You wanna try speaking English?"

"I thought you said you liked her." Owen dropped onto the same chair he'd sat on earlier. He rested his elbow on the desk, chin in his hand. "What was all that about?"

"I did, until she opened her mouth."

"Ah. Did she—"

"She wanted to know if I worked for Cipher. A hundred rubles says she thinks I'm secretly your girlfriend and that this entire thing is a farce." To no one's surprise, they'd played that game before. Some people were just so paranoid they chose to believe lies over the the truth. A kiss on the cheek here, a hug there — it was nothing outside the normal range of friendly, conniving, sibling interactions. No boundaries or lines were crossed and no one got hurt. "I suppose we could always play to expectations and make it one."

"Deckard's here." This wasn't exactly some quick con job, or an escape. Usually their acting skills were reserved for simple jobs, the kind where no one would ever see them again, or false alibis. More than once had Owen found himself facing some bloke with a gun, demanding back the money Owen had stolen from him. Elizabeth or Hattie, whoever was in earshot, would then walk in and cause a scene. Nine out of ten times, it'd worked. "You know he always complicates things."

Right. Elizabeth thrust her lower lip forward in a pout. "Guess I'll go sign the divorce papers then."

"I wouldn't expect any alimony."

"Cheapskate."

He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. Was it any wonder he didn't buy her nice things? Owen sighed exasperatedly and leaned back in his seat. Another day or two and they'd be past all these misunderstandings. Unlike him, Beth hadn't had a chance to see Ortiz in her native habitat. "Letty has a tendency to cut through the bullshit, and yours is to be overly defensive and closed-off."

The only reason Letty would be told the truth was if Elizabeth felt like talking. So far, she didn't appear interested. There were only three people in the building who knew some of the things she'd done and two of them were family. Letty knowing anything wouldn't change their current situation, however. And in any case, it wasn't Ortiz's business who she'd worked for (or with). "I'm not closed-off. I just prefer to leave the past where it belongs."

"Defensive as ever, I see," he said in a teasing tone. There were only so many people who could rile Beth up without her immediately biting their head off, and he, Deckard, Hattie and their mother were it. "Here's an idea: talk to her later. Apologise. You have an in with Letty, and now you need to gain her trust. I know it'll pain you but honesty goes a long way."

"And when she blabs it all to Toretto? I'm not telling her a damn thing."

"Consider it a strategy adjustment. Letty can keep a secret as well as us. Make it clear you're talking to her in the strictest confidence and she'll respect it."

The only adjustment she needed was some new clothes and Elizabeth knew exactly where to find them. The downside was she'd have to get onboard that plane, open the door to Cipher's bedroom slash armoury, and slip out, all without being noticed. Something which she might just pull off with Letty's help. "I hate when you're right."

"Don't look now but the passenger seat in her car just became available." Owen glanced past Elizabeth's head and thrust his legs out, stretching them. Arms above his head, he yawned, eyes fixed on Toretto stepping away to talk to Hobbs. They'd gathered climbing gear — including ropes, harnesses and extra clips from a set of containers on the shelves that ran along the northern wall — and assembled as if this were some attempt at displaying professionalism. "I'd say you have a ten second window of opportunity."

"You said talk to her later."

"It's later."

Well, she really did want those clothes. Elizabeth grumbled, stood and jogged toward the car with Letty inside it. Ten seconds was right. By the time she reached the Corvette and slid into the car, Toretto was three feet away. "Sorry," Elizabeth said as she shut the door. "I need a moment with your wife."

"Thought you weren't coming." Letty didn't so much as look at her. She started the car up and drove straight to the lift, aligning the wheels with the tape on the floor. "Guess this means you want to talk."

"Want to? No." Damn Owen for talking sense. "But my brother made a point about me being—"

"Did you work for Cipher?"

She has a tendency to cut through the bullshit. God, why did this woman have to have so much baggage? Letty was perfect from head to toe and those eyes, the way she looked at her — It was as if Ortiz were some fallen angel who'd gotten kicked out of Heaven for the crime of existing. The embodiment of fire and rebellion. "Sort of. It was about five years ago. I built bombs for Owen, he paid the money and Cipher played intermediary. We hit it off. Sue me."

"So if you put your hand on one of those scanners, your print would unlock doors?"

"Yes."

Well it was about time Shaw was honest. Owen was the one who acted like an asshole but that generally described his entire personality. Compared to him, Elizabeth didn't seem the type. As warm as Shaw made Elsa from Frozen look, it seemed little more than a defense mechanism. "Are you still in contact with Cipher?"

"Not anymore."

When the lift became level with the ground, Letty drove out into the sunlight and onto the vast expanse of space that Little Nobody had said was a runway. "Did you work with Cipher last year?"

"No. Four years ago, I was in Moscow." Fuck the details. Letty didn't need to hear a goddamn sob story. "Hobbs showed up. He was hunting Owen. I ran, Hobbs chased. A billion dollars was on the line and I wasn't about to screw that up."

"You got caught?"

"Uh-huh. Next thing I know I'm in cuffs and on a plane to Guantanamo Bay."

"How'd you get out?"

"Connections. Twiddled my thumbs for eighteen months before a lawyer," Elizabeth made quotes with her fingers, "arrived. Been living in Cuba ever since."

"You weren't involved in what went down in Spain then."

She rested her head against the window and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears back. "No. I didn't know any of that till Owen dumped it all on me during the flight from London to here two days ago. When he told me Riley was dead—"

Elizabeth's

Chapter Text

"Nice job." Dom took the bags from her the moment the cargo bay doors slid open. I knew you could do it. "You alright, Letty?"

"I'm good." She patted him on the shoulder. Shaw was somewhere far behind her, staring at the destruction rained on the interior during Marcus's rescue. Elizabeth had tossed the other bag at her in the hallway, said something about the office door being left open and 'thanks for the help'. "Ramsey, Tej, you're up!"

"Man, I've been waiting to get ahold of this shit." Tej rubbed his hands together as he ascended the ramp, gawking at the stacks of servers on the far left. "Damn, we're going to need a trolley to get all this offloaded."

"Who said anything about disconnecting it?" Ramsey shook her head in disbelief. It would take hours to label, remove and reassemble everything in a SCIF room. That was more time than they could afford to waste. "Leave it where it is. There could be a power surge if we trip something."

"Good point." For all they knew, Cipher had some kind of failsafe programmed or wired into her equipment. Better safe than sorry. "Where do you wanna start?"

"Dom said she had an office?"

He nodded and gestured over his shoulder. Dom had memorised every inch of the plane's layout before tracking down Deckard's mother and meeting her in the pub. "Go past the couches and keep on going till you reach the last hallway. There'll be a corner door on the right-hand side, but it's—"

"Shaw already hotwired it," Letty said. "It's open."

What Elizabeth had failed to mention to Letty was the bedroom had been stripped clean. No weapons, no clothes, no sheets. Everything that might have had trace evidence on it was gone. Damn it. She stepped carefully, avoiding the shattered glass spread over the carpet and the tipped-over lounge chairs. What a mess. Her eyes ghosted over the blood stains, the bullet holes — Elizabeth didn't want to know the details of what her brothers had done.

The office had also been cleaned out too. The servers in the cabinet behind Cipher's desk were still there, her computer too, but the spare clothes stashed in a wardrobe had been removed along with the leather chairs. After checking over the room, she cut a hole in the wall and killed the door's motor.

"It's down here," Toretto's voice carried down the corridor. Footsteps overlayed footsteps, and soon enough, Dom and Letty passed Elizabeth with Tej and Ramsey in tow. "And there's another room back that way," he gestured. "It was where they congregated during jobs."

Elizabeth hurried toward the open cargo bay, keeping her eyes focused on what was ahead of her. If she looked at the floor, noticed the slight red streaks on the soles of her boots, Beth was pretty sure she'd throw up then and there. Don't look. Don't think about it. Someone just spilled a ton of wine.

The moment her feet hit metal, she rushed through the bay, down the ramp, past Hobbs and Deckard, and ducked outside.

"Wh—" The faint sound of dry retching reached Luke's ears. Well that answered that question. "Now we just need to find that truck," he said to himself. That presumed it existed. For all Hobbs knew, Elizabeth had lied through her teeth. "And lock her up permanently."

"You think they'll break it?" Deckard looked towards Hobbs. He didn't doubt Ramsey's skills, or Parker's. It was less a question of ability than time, and how long they could devote to decryption before they moved onto Hobbs' next winning strategy. "It's not like she's got a quantum computer in that bag."

"You're the IT guy," Luke said. "You tell me."

"That was nearly two years ago. Move on."

"You almost killed Elena."

"And I've said I'm sorry for that. She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Neves was a nice woman. Hobbs wasn't. It didn't take a mathematical genius to figure that out. Deckard pivoted on his boots and left Hobbs to deal with the rest. His car was parked outside and the longer Elizabeth was out there alone, the likelier it was she'd—

A shit-eating grin spread across his face as Hobbs' Gurkha was slowly reversed away from the group of cars. The low rumble of the engine could be heard from the hangar doorway, perhaps even further in. From where Deckard stood, he could just make out Elizabeth in the driver's seat through the tinted windows. At least it wasn't his car, he thought. She and Hattie had generally always respected the sovereignty of his cars, but Owen's was fair game more often than not.

Beth stuck her arm out the window and gave him a thumbs up. Deckard nodded and waved back, waiting till the window was wound up and the Gurkha a good hundred metres away before turning to look at Luke.

"You didn't leave your keys in the ignition, did you, Hobbs?"

"Why? What'd you do, Shaw?"

"Three klicks east, right?" At a casual pace, that had to be a solid forty minute walk with Hobbs' stride. "See you when you get back."

"Goddamn it, Deckard, what did you—" Luke walked outside to the cluster of cars. His own was noticeably absent. Shit. "Where did you move it, you sneaky sumbitch?"

"If I were you, I'd think about doing a headcount before making any accusations."

A headcount? The Torettos, Ramsey and Tej were inside the plane. Little Nobody was sitting against the crane. Rome and himself had been standing inside the hangar with—

One of these Shaws is not like the other. "Your goddamn sister better hand over those keys before I toss her ass in a cell."

"Guess I'll leave you to it then." Deckard slid inside his black McLaren and immediately locked the doors. The last thing he needed was Hobbs scratching the paint job or ruining the interior. "Enjoy the walk!"

Luke grit his teeth. Walk? Oh there'd be no walking involved. He'd hunted Elizabeth down once before and he'd do it again. At a run, Luke estimated it'd take less than twenty minutes to get back. He'd be pushing himself but it wasn't impossible. That woman had taken his car and his gear inside it. "Reisner, I'll meet you back at the warehouse!"

"Okay!"

"Yo, Dom, we're gonna be here all night. This encryption is . . ."

"The password is thirteen characters long and Cipher wrote it down on a post-it note." Ramsey laughed, holding the yellow note up above her head. "Tej, try this. It was on the inside of the cupboard door. An expert hacker and she couldn't remember a password that short?"

A post-it note in plain sight? "I thought they cleared everything out." Letty frowned. "How'd they miss that?"

"I don't know and I don't care. If that works—" Tej read the password aloud as he typed. He pressed the enter key, watched the screen turn black . . . and clapped his hands together as the desktop loaded. "Oh shit. I think we're in."

"Say that again?"

"We're in, baby!" Tej slapped the desk and sidestepped so Ramsey could stand besides him. "Alright, Hobbs said we were looking for a truck, right? Then she has to have some kind of GPS software installed on here. Maybe if we're lucky, the last known location will still be logged."

"This could take a while, guys," Ramsey said. "We'll yell out when it's done."

"Okay." Letty tugged Dom out of the office and down the hallway. The idea that the Feds had somehow missed something didn't sit right with Letty, but neither did the idea of hiding the truth from the team. Not that it was hers to tell in the first place. "Since we've got some time to fill, I was thinking we could talk."

Talk? Why not? They could do that anywhere, at any time. Being onboard the plane made his skin crawl but Dom wasn't about to run off because of it. He let her lift his arm and wrap it around her shoulders as Letty guided him towards the cargo hold. "What's up?"

"How would you" Letty began, walking by his side, hand clutching Dom's wrist, "feel about expanding our family?"

"You want to invite the Shaws around for a barbeque?"

"No, I'm being serious, Dom," she laughed. As funny as it would be to watch them flounder at the prospect of saying grace, no. "I thought it was about time we asked the question. Brian and Mia have Jack and Sophie, and we have shared custody of Marcus."

So long as Dom didn't assume she was pregnant, there was no harm in talking it over. She didn't have a clue where the nearest drug store was, but it was easy enough to drive back to the coast. Sooner or later she was going to have to face up to reality and buy a test. There just wasn't any sense in getting Dom's and her own hopes up if it was a case of stress or early onset menopause.

"Which question would that be?"

He was really going to make her come out and say it, wasn't he? Letty looked up and smiled at him, catching her reflection in his eyes. The faded scar above his lip was still there too, from when she'd split it open when he was eighteen and dumb. "What if we decided that every other weekend wasn't enough?"

"Elena—" Dom couldn't rip Marcus away from her. He hated not being able to live in the same house as his son but there wasn't a chance in hell he would ever willingly march into a courtroom and demand sole custody. "I couldn't do that to her, Letty."

"Can I finish?"

Was she about to suggest they buy a larger property and move out of Los Angeles?

"What if we wanted more than one Marcus running around?"

His eyes widened in realisation. More than one Marcus? Letty wanted to settle down? Had this come by way of some discussion between herself and Elena, or Letty and his sister? "I don't think it's really the right time to start thinking about kids when—"

"There's never going to be a right time, Dom." She stopped and tugged him close, slid her hands up along the length of his chest and cupped the back of his neck. Dom's skin was warm, smooth under her fingers. Letty had missed having her hands on him, him lifting her up and carrying her into the garage. She especially missed Dom on his knees, staring up at her as if pleading for Letty to take her sunglasses off, her cargos, and look him in the eyes. "If it's ever gonna happen, it'll be when we make it happen."

"Where's all this coming from, Letty?" he asked. Had something changed? Was she — No, that was crazy. They used protection every time. Letty herself was still on birth control too. There was no chance she was pregnant. They'd talked about it over the years but the question hadn't come up, and then suddenly he'd thought she was gone for good.

All Dom's ideas and plans had turned into what ifs and maybes.

"I just got to thinking," Letty said. It wasn't a total lie. She had been thinking. A lot. Wondering if she was ready to be a full-time mom. Asking herself how she would cope with the physical changes, the hormones and doctors appointments. "We lost each other for all those years and I guess I've been imagining what it would've been like if things played out differently."

"Me? I wouldn't change what happened." Dom seized her by the thighs and lifted her, leaned back against the plane wall. The way her eyes lit up, the smile on her face, made him light up too. He wanted to kiss her right then and there, carry her to their motel room and show her just how differently things might have 'played out'. "Losing you tore me apart, Letty, but I'm stronger for it now. I went through hell and you were still there in the end."

She ducked her head under the running shower and rested her forehead against the cold tiles, depressing the soap pump furiously. Elizabeth scrubbed her hands together and lathered herself up from forehead to toes. The acrid taste of bile still lingered in her mouth while the acid stung her throat. Her stomach ached and spasmed as if she were still bent over the toilet but Beth grit her teeth, ignoring the sharp pain that stabbed through her abdomen as best she could.

Her boots were in a bin beneath the sink, red flakes and streaks clinging to the outer soles. Blood on her shoes. On her hands. Spatter on her face; her ex on the bed, lifeless. She squeezed her eyes shut and punched the tiled wall, whimpered into her chest at the sudden burst of pain. The image in her head cleared instantly, leaving only the cold sensation of reality. Jesus. I need to get the hell out of here. Let Deckard deal with the mess he made.

Elizabeth turned around, slumped back against the wall and slid down till she felt the cold shower floor beneath her. This wasn't her mess to clean up. None of this had anything to do with her. If only she'd stood there with Magdalene instead of getting involved, turned a blind eye to whatever shit her brothers were neck-deep in. Deckard and Owen could more than handle themselves but still she tried to protect them. Idiot, she berated herself. Every damn time they get you.

"Shaw!" Hobbs' voice came from somewhere outside. The shower and closed door muffled his words. "Goddamn it, woman, all you had to do was ask."

It always came down to her brothers. It was never Hattie, was it? Hattie didn't go on rampages in tanks or trash a hospital. No, she was the good sibling among them. The one who'd learned what not to do from the insanity that'd surrounded her. Or so Beth thought. That whole ETEON incident painted their sister in a new light: only Hattie would choose to infect herself with a bioweapon instead of letting it be stolen.

You went and signed up for it. She scrubbed herself clean till her skin was raw and the soap pump empty, hot water streaming down her body, washing away any traces that might've been on her. There's still a job to finish. Walk away now and you'll never see a pound.

"Shaw, what the hell—" Luke stepped into the bathroom and looked toward the corner shower cubicle. Clothes were folded over the top of the door and the foot-high gap at the base of it showed a set of knees. Shit. He looked away before his eyes could slide upwards, busying himself with opening the closet to his left and fetching a fresh towel. That solved that mystery. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "You wanna leave some hot water for the rest of us?"

Hobbs?! Elizabeth's head hit the tap as she scrambled to her feet. "Shit!" What the hell was he doing coming in without knocking? She winced, rubbing her scalp with one hand while she turned the shower off with her other.

". . . Would you like a towel?"

"Otvali!" Get out!

"I don't speak Russian."

Perhaps he could go learn some then. "What the fuck are you doing in here?!"

"You stole my car, woman."

Oh come on! She'd left it outside, undamaged. Elizabeth pulled her bra off a hook on the back of the door and quickly slipped it on. She dressed as fast as she could — stuffed her socks in her pockets — and wiped her hands over her face. Elizabeth put her hair up and left it to drip water down her back.

"Next time, don't leave the keys in the ignition." She unlocked the shower door and stepped out of the cubicle. Eyes on the floor, she waddled towards the bathroom door, careful not to lose her footing. Stole his car? She'd borrowed it in an emergency. Although she considered it more along the lines of commandeering when compared to theft, regardless of the badge that was noticeably absent from her pants. "Puta madré."

"I think you're missing a pair of shoes."

Fist clenched around the handle, she looked back over her shoulder at him. Damn it, don't fall apart now. "They're in the garbage. There was—" She swallowed and shifted her gaze away from Hobbs. Elizabeth pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway, water running down her shirt and neck in rivulets. "They didn't clean the carpets."

It took him a moment to realise what she was talking about. The blood. He hadn't paid much attention to it himself. Once you saw enough of it, grew desensitised to it, red became just another colour in the room. That Luke could look at a crime scene and not flinch said more about him and the issues that arose from his work as a federal agent, he supposed, than it did anyone who wasn't a fed.

The haunted look in Shaw's eyes was what did him in. Elizabeth glanced at him one last time before disappearing out into the hallway, dripping water with every step. Luke shook his head and shoved the towel back in the closet. He heard the clink of mugs in the kitchen and would've left her to it if not for what she'd said. Hobbs fetched her shoes from the trash can, wiped them clean, and left them by the shower cubicle.

"I thought I was past this," she muttered to herself, not looking up from the electric kettle. Guess that's what the doc meant by a 'trigger'. Using a bread knife from the cutlery drawer, she cracked open a tin of instant coffee and measured out a heap of grounds with the blade. Hot cocoa and sugar quickly followed it. A creak came from the hallway so Elizabeth asked, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black and bitter."

"Uh-huh." Elizabeth fetched a large mug from the cupboard and slid it across the countertop. "You can make your own," she said, proceeding to read the large black writing on the side of it aloud, "Finest ass in America."

"Is that sarcasm or are you trying to be nice to me?"

The printed design on her own was a smattering of love hearts that surrounded the words 'I love my valentine'. Once the kettle clicked

off, she filled her mug two thirds of the way, added milk and zapped it in the microwave. "Don't flatter yourself."

Hobbs did indeed make his own and sat at the table in the centre of the kitchen. Shaw sat herself at the opposite end, stirring her mocha idly. Not a word was said between them till Luke fetched a plate from the fridge, microwaved it, and set it down on the table. On it were two croissants. "Pastry for my valentine?"

"Sure." She leaned across the table and took both, much to Luke's annoyance. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. Elizabeth took a large bite out of one and set the other atop her mug. "Oh, I'm sorry, was that rude of me?"

"I'd say a little. Yeah."

"Well so is walking into a bathroom without knocking when a woman's showering. Clearly for all the diplomatic security training they had you do, learning manners was never a part of it."

"Y'know, I don't know how any of the lovely ladies at that brothel put up with such a crass, uncouth woman like yourself."

She finished her mocha in silence, glaring at him over the top of her mug. Elizabeth washed and dried it, returned it to the cupboard and walked out of the mezzanine. As she descended the stairs, a thunderous roar came from overhead and the building began to shake. "What the hell is—"

Hobbs came flying out of the kitchen and rushed past her. "That'll be the rest of the cars."

And my wardrobe. Elizabeth took the stairs two at a time, clinging to the railing as she went. Once her feet touched the concrete floor, she sprinted across the warehouse, dodging Hobbs on her way to the hydraulic lift. The Marussias too. Finally!

Chapter Text

After returning to the warehouse, Deckard parked the McLaren close to the southwest corner, a good distance from where Toretto's Charger would be. Deckard stepped from it, shut the door behind him and casually strolled across the floor towards where Owen sat.

Three desks were set up in a triangle formation with one chair and computer per side; the monitors were excessively wide for reasons that became clear once Deckard saw what was onscreen. Schematics for a custom car. Of all his brother's ideas, this had to be the foremost self-indulgent waste of time. "Still working on it?"

"Yes." Little Nobody had arranged for him to take receipt of a retired Formula One car. Owen would proceed to strip it and adjust the seating for himself. The armour plates would then be modified and attached, not to mention the ramp mechanism itself required fabrication and installation. The pneumatics were the only thing he couldn't build; they'd be shipped within the week once he placed his order.

"You seen Beth?"

Did it look as if Owen was concerning himself with their sister's current whereabouts? He saved the schematic again, sent a copy to the upstairs printer and closed the program window. Besides the glass-walled meeting room, there was an office in the western mezzanine containing an industrial printer. If his instincts were correct, he'd also find a concealed biometric scanner somewhere which would lead to the facility's security hub. "No. I'm busy. What is it?"

"Toretto got into the plane."

He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. "Good for them."

"And you've been here alone the entire time." Deckard frowned and scratched his jaw where stubble was beginning to grow. It all seemed too simple. Owen being left to his own devices, allowed to play out his little fantasies, while they did the hard work and Elizabeth put herself in an early grave. Neither Hobbs, Reisner or anyone else had approached Owen in an attempt to encourage him to work with the team. Beyond his few 'conversations' with Letty — and his scheming with Beth — Owen hadn't interacted with the group at all.

That was how he wanted to look at things? Owen wasn't here to play games or feed Deckard's old paranoia. Their enemies were dead for the most part and he had no reason to think they'd suddenly rise from the grave. "Where exactly are you going with this?"

Deckard fetched an empty stool and seated himself next to Owen. He then turned Owen's office chair around so they were at eye level. "I put it all on the line for you. Killed eighteen men because they stood between me and you in that hospital bed. Destroyed half a cell block to get you out of that prison."

"And you'd do it all again because that's the kind of brother you are." Owen gave the faintest smile in response. The loyalty and brutality he inspired in his siblings was somewhat of a fascination of his. He was still yet to figure out why they chose to go to such extents for him, but Owen wasn't about to complain. Sometimes he even enjoyed putting himself in situations where Deckard was forced to choose between morals, ethics and him.

There was no end to the lengths Deckard would go to for Owen. If it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in anyone who stepped between them. Blood and family mattered more than paperwork or spoken words. It went above and beyond duty of care, regardless of how many times Owen proved to be the one intentionally finding trouble.

"Exactly." Deckard had found himself slowly putting the pieces together while watching his siblings. He couldn't say with complete certainty that he knew what their plan was but Deckard had a fair idea. "So I'm going to let Toretto do his job, you play your little game, and we all disappear the moment Cipher's dead."

It was good to know Deckard had finally gotten with the program, or seemed to have. Owen inclined his head in a slight nod then reached for his glass of iced coffee. The first indication that something was wrong was a ripple disturbing the surface of his drink, then the building began to shudder. Overhead came the sound of a plane, growing rapidly from a dull drone to a loud roar, as if it were moments from landing.

A sudden flash of movement in his peripheral vision drew his attention: Owen looked down the aisle to see Hobbs moving towards the lift, and behind him their sister, sprinting like Koschei the Deathless were snapping at her heels. Deckard's head turned also, lips curving down into a disapproving frown.

"Keep an eye on him, will you?" Owen said. If Deckard was going to stand idle and feign ignorance of what they were up to, the least he could do was be useful. "He's playing the long game and I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

"You don't need to worry about Hobbs."

"What about you, then?" Deckard's history with the Fed was an issue Owen couldn't risk neglecting. It wasn't his imagination that they'd moved from trying to bury each other to simply pissing the other off. Owen supposed that was what happened when your enemy helped to save your sister. "I thought we'd stopped lying to each other."

Deckard scowled and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. Owen had him exactly where he wanted him: between their family and the people who'd harmed them. It was where Deckard almost always inevitably found himself. He'd taken the belt for Owen, finished his fights and settled scores. What more did his little brother want?

"I told you I'll handle him."

Of course he would, just like he handled everything. Owen scoffed and stood, sculled the rest of his coffee and tossed the styrofoam cup into the nearest trash can. "By doing what needs to be done or by appeasing your morals?"

"This isn't Kandahar, Owen." What he was suggesting wasn't impossible, but neither was it something Deckard might willingly do. The moment Hobbs disappeared, every set of eyes would be on them. Killing a civilian like Toretto was one thing, killing a U.S federal agent another. "You want Hobbs dead? Do it yourself."

They sat in silence for a minute, Owen staring at Deckard and him staring right back.

"Who said anything about killing him?" Owen finally said, breaking the tension. He raised an eyebrow as if concerned. Deckard sure did have some interesting ideas about how to handle people, even if there was kilometres of desert outside, stretching away in every direction. That kind of place sounded as good as any for a cemetery. "I suppose accidents do happen all the time though."

For God's sake. Deckard seized Owen by the bicep and pulled him close, fingers digging in as his grip tightened. Perhaps an accident did need to happen — one that would knock some sense into his brother's head. "The only reason I dragged you out of that prison was for Mum. Don't make me regret it."

Owen shrugged and pulled his arm free. "I would've broken out eventually, but thanks for the help."

"You were ejected from a moving plane. Comatose for months." If he needed a reminder of everything that happened, Deckard would happily provide it. He circled around Owen and blocked his path, lingered there for long enough that Deckard thought Owen would shove him out of the way sooner or later. "Sure, you would've broken out. Eventually. Assuming you survived Gen Pop."

"Have you said your piece yet?" As amusing as this was, Owen was bored now. He moved past Deckard and began walking towards the lift, a slow strolling pace that said he was in no hurry to go anywhere. The plane would take a while to offload so getting ahold of his car could wait. Other things, like locating the hole in Nobody's security, were the more pressing matter right now.

"We have a deal, Shaw."

Hobbs' voice carried from outside as he reached the hydraulic lift. The wide doorway through which the cars would be driven was open, and now the plane's engines were off, external noise was clear as day. Owen pressed the 'up' button and listened intently, standing in the shadow cast by the C-130 Hercules.

"I'm here. If that's not good enough for you, I don't care. I'm done for the day."

She sounded exasperated. Annoyed. Clearly Hobbs hadn't learned from the last time he'd pushed her buttons. Whatever had happened between them, it was enough for cracks to show in Elizabeth's facade.

"You have a job, so turn around and—"

"I said I'm done!"

A car door was slammed shut. Owen craned his neck as if to look but all he could see was the soles of Hobbs' boots. The lift took a good minute and a half to go from the warehouse floor to ground level. The hydraulics were slow but powerful and gave him time to listen further without detection.

"I'll be here tomorrow morning, bright and early, alright?" Elizabeth said. "In the meantime, all complaints can be lodged by shoving them up your arse."

Once the gap between the lift and the outside was closed, Owen walked towards the Marussia B2. Elizabeth sat in the driver's seat, fists clenched around the steering wheel, while the Fed stood at door's length from the SUV, out of striking range. Interesting. "Is there a problem, Hobbs?"

"Go back to your computer, Scarface," Luke snapped. He wasn't going to tolerate anymore of their bullshit, no matter who it came from. The clock hadn't even struck midday and here Elizabeth was shirking her duties already despite how much work there was to be done. "The adults are having a conversation."

"A conversation which involves you harassing my sister.

"Fuck off, Owen!" She didn't need him or his inflated sense of self worth coming to the rescue, let alone Hobbs' determination to see the job done dragging her back into the warehouse. What she needed was some breathing space and time to clear her head. Better yet, an open gate and directions back to Los Angeles. The more distance she put between them, the better.

Owen looked at Beth as if stunned. There was a bite of anger in her voice, frustration in her eyes. She and Hobbs had come from the same section of the warehouse, and here they were again, together . . . If she'd already talked her way into Hobbs' pants, he needed to know. The decision was a little premature in Owen's opinion but he couldn't blame her for getting it over and done with. Hobbs was about as useful as any two-bit government hack could be said to be.

In the seconds it took Elizabeth to start the car, put the stick in drive and pull away, Hobbs closed the gap and climbed onto the metal step, gripping the roof rack with both hands. The SUV gained speed once she reached the road and followed it northeast towards the motel, leaving Owen to stand there and gawk. The entire time, Luke fought to maintain his balance, wondering if she was going to suddenly swerve the car to shake him off.

She didn't.

Neither did the speedometer rise above forty as she drove. Shaw never glanced back at him but Luke was certain she had to have seen him in the side mirror. It wasn't easy to miss a tall muscled brown man clinging to your car, nor was he in a position to conceal his presence. The streets to either side of them went unnoticed while Luke concentrated on keeping a tight grip. His palms were sweaty, arms and legs beginning to ache after the first few minutes.

Finally, the SUV slowed upon reaching the motel parking lot, presumably so Shaw could read the numbers on the doors. A few feet from the end of the bitumen, she parked parallel to her room. Luke stepped off the car, landing on the ground with a thud. He rolled his shoulders, easing the kinks from his hands and arms.

"Alright, woman," Hobbs began when the driver's door was pushed open, "you want to tell me just what the hell that was?"

Hattie, he understood. She was Miss Independent, the lone wolf more than willing to do whatever was necessary, including putting her head on the chopping block. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was his worst nightmare. She had a violent streak, a certain way with words, and a penchant for causing him problems. Worst of all, she was a survivor fighting tooth and nail to stay alive.

For him, that spelled trouble with a capital T.

Elizabeth climbed out of the car, walked around to the passenger side door and eased it open. On the seat were three cardboard boxes. They contained her personal belongings, taken from the apartment in Santa Clara. Beth had torn off the tape after receiving them from one of the airmen, checked their contents matched the list on the manifest, and dumped them in her car.

"Do you not understand the concept of personal boundaries?" she said, hefting the boxes off the seat. "Or is your ego just so big that you can't see past it?"

There was a difference between personal boundaries and not wanting to do your job, and his ego wasn't that big. "There's seven hours of daylight left. When we're working, we're all working. You don't get to walk off the job because—"

"Maybe you haven't noticed but I don't answer to you, my brothers, or your shady boss in that piss poor excuse of a suit. I certainly don't need to explain myself either."

Luke chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. Of course she didn't. What kind of Shaw would she be if she did? "You and Hattie must be a whole lot of fun at parties."

"Something like that." She circled around the car and approached the motel room, juggling the boxes to free her left hand. Elizabeth lifted her knee, rested her chin atop them and twisted the doorknob. The room would be unlocked, she reminded herself, and the keys inside on the table. At least that's what Owen had told her.

"Is this about what you said in the kitchen?"

She'd said what she needed to to get him off her back. Bile crept up her throat at the thought of repeating that incident, stinging it as if her stomach were ready to go through the whole process again. "I'm done, Fed."

This was Hattie's 'it's not over till I say it's over' thing all over again, wasn't it? God help him, Luke couldn't decide which sibling was worse to deal with. He ran a hand back over his scalp and leaned against the SUV, crossing his arms in an attempt to get comfortable. Luke watched in silence as Shaw maneuvered her way into the motel room — the room directly next to his, he noted — and set the boxes down to the immediate left of the door.

"You don't snore, do you?"

Elizabeth frowned and turned around to look at him. "Why?"

"Because that," Luke gestured at the door to her right, "is my room."

According to Dom, the walls weren't quite thin enough to hear Roman singing in the shower, but they knew something was going on. If Shaw was smart — and he didn't doubt she was — then all her private meetings with Owen would take place elsewhere. The only noise he'd be likely to hear coming from her side of the wall was her in the kitchen or moving things around in search of a landline.

"Your room." She feigned shock and surprise. That was the entire point of her being in this room. Despite how maddening Hobbs was proving to be, she herself still had that other job to do. One she wasn't quite sure she could even do.

"Uh-huh."

"Lucky me."

Elizabeth kicked her motel room door closed, shut the curtains and flopped down on the bed. She dangled her feet off the edge, tried to shake loose the few small pieces of gravel that were still stuck between her toes. She tugged her hair free then rolled onto her back, staring up at the plain cream ceiling. A fan was mounted in the middle of it, directly over the bed. If she folded up all the sheets and blankets, stacked them on the pillows and balanced herself, would she be able to reach it?

Better yet, when had they last aired the rooms out? Elizabeth crinkled her nose and sat up, pulling herself to the edge of the bed. The sheets felt clean enough but there was a stale smell to the place. All electronics bar the fridge and microwave had been stripped — no radio, no TV, not so much as a portable DVD player. Was it just her room they'd stripped? Without a signal, there was little use for a TV in the first place, but its presence was what counted.

"This is going to be fun," she muttered, getting to her feet. Beth walked into the bathroom and cracked the window open, peering out to find a small garden bed and a gap of less than four feet between the window and the ground. This would be her escape route.

She opened the kitchen window as well, shoved the curtains aside to allow the not-quite-midday sun to pour in. It was better than nothing, she thought. Better than a prison cell or the storage room Hobbs had thrown her in.

"Thanks a lot," Elizabeth muttered upon finding the fridge to be stocked with only the bare minimum. "Cheap bastards."

I guess this is home now. As empty as it was, no one could say she wasn't used to worse conditions. Now she could cool off, get her head in the game. She was too rattled to function and it was only making things worse. The plane's interior—

Beth shuddered, forcing the image from her mind. She didn't need to think about that right now, but tomorrow . . . Tomorrow, she decided, she'd fumble her way around an apology. Presently, she was still too close to the edge. All it would take was one push, whether from Hobbs or her brothers or Letty, and she'd wind up doing or saying something she regretted.

Something she'd never be able to take back.

Chapter Text

It was still dark when Elizabeth stepped outside. The moon was visible to the west while the sun began its slow crawl above the horizon in the east. The alarm clock on her bedside drawer had read 05:02 by the time she found her joggers. She'd planned to be on the track by 04:50 but it'd taken Elizabeth a couple minutes to fully awaken and a few after that to find her workout clothes.

There was nothing to be heard outside except for the distant sound of birds. No trucks, cars or planes, nor voices — the facility was eerily peaceful. Toretto and the others were likely asleep in their own rooms, she figured, or at the warehouse on cots. Whatever their location, Elizabeth was grateful for the chance to walk around without interruption.

She took to the track at a slow pace, warming her legs up and shaking off the lingering tiredness that made her want to crawl back into bed. The footpath itself began at her end of the parking lot and continued north, away from the motel, then split off in every direction. Mapping the facility in her head would take time, but it was something Elizabeth didn't mind doing it if it meant escaping the confines of her room and the warehouse.

After a few minutes, she pushed herself into a jog. Hugging the left side of the path, Beth stared out at her surroundings and let her mind wander. Call it meditation or relaxation but there was something about running that put her at ease. The rhythmic movement of left, right, left, right held an allure that couldn't be found by sitting on a yoga mat in a humid room with sweaty hipsters.

She followed the path as it curved past empty buildings and wound its way beneath the few trees that were scattered across the facility, the cool desert air tickling the back of her neck. The wind sent shivers down her spine with each brief gust, blew her fringe forward into her eyes. Every time, she reached up and pushed it back.

"You're up early."

His voice went unnoticed at first. The past seventy-two hours were playing over in her head. Smiling at the woman who'd shot Riley with a harpoon, the image of Owen dying on a runway pushing itself to the front of her mind as she forced herself to sit there and play nice with Toretto; throwing her ethics out the window to appease the Fed so he'd get off her case.

Consider it a necessary evil, she told herself. Do what you have to do and get the job done.

"Scoping the place out, Shaw?"

For a moment, her step faltered and she tipped sideways. Elizabeth managed to recover her balance and steady herself by grabbing ahold of the nearest tree branch even as it threatened to break under her weight. By now, she knew that voice as well as any. Elizabeth turned around to face Hobbs, reclined on a seat with a towel in his lap, arms propped up on the back of the bench. So much for being alone. "What does it look like?"

Luke tilted his head, watching her watch him. He'd almost thought she would tell him to put a shirt on, or cover up in some way or another. Shaw was certainly being given more than an eyeful of bare chest but her eyes never wandered below his nose, and Luke returned the courtesy. Elizabeth wore nothing more than a sports bra and a pair of shorts; every scar on her body was on full display including one that ran jaggedly across her abdomen like a very real very permanent reminder of her past. "You always run in the mornings?"

"Yeah." She adjusted her stance and began jogging again, leaving Hobbs behind. The last person she wanted to see this early was him. Elizabeth still had an entire day ahead of her, nineteen more hours during which Hobbs could make himself a pain in her arse. This was exactly how she didn't want to start it after their little encounter yesterday.

He pushed himself up off the seat, tossed his towel around his neck and broke into a jog to catch up. Eventually Luke found himself matching her stride for stride, their feet pounding the pavement in sync as if in bootcamp. Eyes forward, Shaw didn't so much as look at him but Luke got the feeling she was aware he was behind her. It wasn't easy to miss a six-foot-four two hundred and forty-something pound brown man being on your tail.

Time to pick the pace up. Elizabeth pushed herself into a run after a minute of Hobbs being beside her. The path forked up ahead, splitting east and west, and forked again further along, but two branches still curved back towards the motel. She'd hoped to spend at least half an hour out here, alternating between jogging and walking, with short bursts of sprinting intermixed. Now she just wanted to get under a hot shower, crawl into bed and avoid the team for another hour or three.

He lagged behind for a minute before closing the distance, running parallel with Elizabeth, elbows tight against his sides. Luke picked up the pace again, got ahead of her by a couple feet. Sure enough, Shaw caught up and kept up, lips pursed and fists clenched. They followed the path like that for ten minutes, him increasing the speed and her not hesitating to match it.

"You're competitive." It wasn't a question. Luke didn't look at her when he spoke, too focused on the ground beneath his feet. "Feel like kicking it up a notch?"

Why not? Her lungs were already starting to burn and the motel was less than three hundred metres away. Hobbs' sprint was sudden, a burst of speed she didn't expect from someone his size. Ten quid said he'd been involved with college football or track. Elizabeth launched off her right foot and gave chase, dodging to his left when Hobbs suddenly tried to block her. The grass on either side of the path was half-dead, wilted brown at the tips and green beneath, but she'd still have a decent foothold.

"Think you can—"

She hit the grass, moving as fast as her legs allowed, getting ahead of Hobbs with each second that passed. Her entire body ached as Beth sprinted, his loud footsteps like a ticking clock that chased her. Without the sun, she had no way of knowing how close he was, not that it mattered. His footsteps seemed to slow as the motel came into view. Elizabeth did the same only once she neared their building, collapsing against the exterior wall. Gasping for air, Elizabeth doubled over, panting and clutching at her sides.

Hands on the back of his head and fingers interlaced, Luke strolled towards her, catching his breath. Shit. The woman could run alright. And unlike him, she wasn't carrying around an extra hundred pounds. "If you'd pulled that four years ago—"

Hadn't he paid attention yesterday? Or had Hobbs been too busy to notice her reaching the lift before him? She lowered herself down to the ground, slumping back, upper body heaving with each breath. Her heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding, beating much faster than its usual rhythm. Face flushed with heat, sweat ran down her nose and dripped onto her lips. Each twitch and spasm of her leg muscles made her relax, a feeling of contentment washing over her. She hadn't run like that in a long time but her body remembered the ecstasy of it. The elation that came with bringing herself to her body's breaking point and then pushing that point a little further away each time.

"I run better on grass," Elizabeth said finally. She opened her eyes to stare past him, stretched her legs and yawned. "You wouldn't have caught me if they hadn't—"

Surrounded you? Luke thought. She hadn't put up as much of a fight as his targets usually did, but learning Shaw walked out of prison after only eighteen months had made him wonder if getting caught wasn't a strategic move.

"—altered the escape route."

"Huh." That made sense. He'd always questioned why she ended up in that closet. Luke extended his hand toward her but she shook her head so he dropped it, shifted his weight to his other foot and rested his hands on his hips. "So what's your poison? Protein shake or water?"

"A hot shower." Once the stitches in her sides eased, she dug her fingers into the gaps between the bricks and pulled herself up, legs wobbling beneath her. Elizabeth firmed her stance, pressing her feet against the ground, forcing her legs to straighten. They still trembled slightly but at no point did Hobbs try and help her. Clearly he'd learned something overnight. "Then breakfast."

"Of course." Luke pushed his door open after they both took the corner, watched her stagger past. She looked how he felt — exhausted. His calves ached from the effort of maintaining a sudden sprint but Hobbs showed no sign that he was anything other than perfectly fine. He gave a smile and a nod as Elizabeth pulled herself up the front steps of her room. "I'll catch your ass tomorrow, Shaw."

Good luck with that, Fed. Elizabeth shouldered her way inside her motel room and went straight to her bathroom. Hobbs wouldn't so much as see her tomorrow if she had her way. If she had to get up earlier, change her routine every morning, Beth would. Working out with Deckard or Owen was something she'd considered too, regardless of how annoying it would be to hear their voices at four o'clock in the morning.

The door of her Porsche was open, Letty noticed, when she returned from the kitchenette. A pair of legs dangled from the front seat. Once she drew closer, Letty saw the familiar figures of two women squashed into the car. "Hey, breakfast's here!"

"Thank you!" Ramsey groaned and pushed herself up on her arms, craning her neck to look out the window. Letty was carrying a thermos in one hand and mugs in the other. "Mm, did you bring any actual food or just the coffee?"

"Relax, Ramsey, I got you." Hanging from Letty's right arm was a plastic bag containing two plates wrapped in aluminium foil. "Dom cooked pancakes and I brought the maple syrup."

Ramsey grinned and climbed out of the car. She took the mugs from Letty, setting them down on the hood of the Porsche. Ramsey had been eagerly awaiting her morning dose of caffeine and here it was. "If Dom cooks like this every morning, I'm gonna put on a few kilos."

"You and me both," Letty chuckled. In her case, it'd be more than just a few. "What about you, Shaw? You want any—"

"I'm good," Elizabeth replied, her words garbled as she tried to talk around a set of pliers wedged between her teeth. "I already ate."

"Say again?"

She spat the pliers out onto her chest, let them fall to the side as she maneuvered her way towards the open door. Half-seated in the footwell, Elizabeth grabbed ahold of the frame and pulled herself up onto the bottom of the doorway. "I had breakfast two hours ago. I'm fine, thank you."

"Alright."

"So your GPS is wired in now." She got to her feet, turned around and pulled the passenger's seat back into its normal position. Elizabeth stretched, gestured to the device that sat stop Letty's dash and stepped away from the car "Ramsey just has to sync it."

"Okay." As amusing as it'd been listening to Ramsey and Elizabeth complain about frayed wires, the age of the Porsche and the car itself — an armoured SUV would be so much better, Beth insisted — Letty just wanted to take it for a spin on the runway. Open roads and empty heads and all that. "Thanks."

She shrugged in response and circled around the car to fetch the toolkit from the driver's seat. Letty hadn't said a word about yesterday so far, it seemed; so long as she continued avoiding the subject, Elizabeth wouldn't have a problem doing those odd jobs for her. After grabbing the pliers from the footwell, Elizabeth took the kit, returned it to its assigned shelf and herself to her workbench.

"Jesus," Ramsey huffed as Letty fumbled with the thermos, "how long does it take you to pour coffee?"

"About as long as it takes you to roll one on Tej."

Lips pursed, Ramsey struggled to keep a straight face, but within moments she'd cracked a smile. Thank God Letty hadn't doled out the caffeine yet or Ramsey would've spilt it everywhere. "Not long at all, actually."

"The time it takes? Or his—" Letty lifted her eyebrows "—you know?"

"Why do you want to know?" Ramsey snatched the thermos and unscrewed the lid; she depressed the button then filled their mugs to the brim. "Looking to trade up from Dom, are we?"

"Dom is . . ." Letty made a so-so gesture and took a sip from her coffee. If Mia were here, Letty thought, she would've died from embarrassment already. The last thing any sister wanted to hear was someone talking about the size of her brother's junk or his skills in the bedroom.

She held her hand up as if to stop Letty in her tracks. "On second thought, I don't want that image seared into my brain, or in my brain at all."

"Right," Letty said. She unwrapped their plates and slid one towards Ramsey then gestured with her fork in the general direction of the gym where Tej and Roman were goofing around with kickboxing pads. "But you like that one."

Ramsey ducked her head and smiled at her stack of pancakes. "Yes, I do. I think after this, he's going to ask me to move in with him."

"Really?"

"I'm not certain but we were talking about it last month."

"That's good." Ramsey deserved to have some happiness in her life. They all did. "It means things are getting serious."

"I hope so." There was a hint of longing in Ramsey's voice. She cast a wary glance over the Porsche and rolled her eyes before returning her attention to her food. But none of it would mean a thing if something went wrong while they were chasing Cipher, she reminded herself. "I—"

The unmistakable sound of metal screeching came from behind them. Letty turned around just in time to watch a raised Formula One car slip off its jack and come crashing down with a loud bang. As far as she knew, no one was working on it. Letty hadn't seen any indication that anyone on their two-thirds of the team had taken possession of it. She could only assume it belonged to one of the Shaws.

What happened next confirmed Letty's suspicions. A bar loaded with weights was thrown aside, hitting the concrete floor as Deckard reacted immediately. Hands free, he hurled himself off the bench and rushed for the car just as Elizabeth did the same, kicking her desk chair out of the way then sprinting across the warehouse floor.

"Owen!" Deckard propelled himself over the hood of Dom's Charger, rushing around the Zhiguli and Lamborghini to where Owen's vehicle had fallen. He dropped to his knees out of sight while Elizabeth dodged around the cars, weaving her way towards him. "Wh—"

Deckard stood and caught his sister by the waist just as she said, "Move!"

He stood firm, stopping Elizabeth from going any further. "He's not under it!"

"He was there two minutes ago!"

"Bee, he's fine."

"I . . . Chort," she cursed. "Why the hell wasn't the car secured properly?"

"You can ask him that yourself when he crawls out of his hole," Deckard said. Elizabeth looked visibly shaken to Letty and it wasn't hard to figure out why. In the span of a few days, she'd learned a few uncomfortable truths about her family. That was if Shaw didn't know them already. Judging from their conversation yesterday, she was still rattled by the whole 'your entire family almost died while you were in paradise' revelation. "Probably went to wash the grease off."

"Something like that." Owen wiped his hands on his pants as he descended the western stairwell. He wore an amused smile, like his siblings panicking was the funniest thing in the world. Letty hated that smile. "Why? Did you miss me?"

She shook her head in silent disgust and turned away, tuning out their ridiculous antics. Letty had had enough of that shit when she worked for him. After draining her mug, she held it out to Ramsey who promptly refilled it. "Thanks."

"You like him, don't you?" Ramsey asked after a while. By then, they'd finished their breakfast and emptied the thermos of coffee. "Owen, I mean."

"No, I don't," Letty said. She stacked the dishes in the bag and left it on the hood. Cleaning them could wait till later when she felt like walking all the way back to the kitchenette. "Trust me, Ramsey, he's not the kind of guy anyone willingly likes."

"But something did happen between you two . . . I've seen the way he looks at you, Letty."

"It's in the past and that's where I plan on leaving it." Owen had been looking at her? When? Letty had done her damnedest to avoid the son of a bitch and would keep on going out of her way to do so. "I was a different person back then, with an entirely different life."

Maybe it was for her, but it wasn't the past for him, Letty reminded herself. If Ramsey wasn't digging for answers and meant what she said, it sounded like Letty's fist was going to be having its own conversation with Owen Shaw's face later.

"Oh yes, oh my God, it worked!"

"What worked?" Letty called out at Beth's sudden gush of excitement.

"Hmm?" Elizabeth glanced up from the device in her hands and looked at Letty. "Uh, the calculations. So you don't get injured by shrapnel."

Yeah, because it sounded like they could really afford for the calculations to not fucking work. "Nice."

Owen was the first to hurry over to her, leaning against the workbench with both hands. He looked almost excited, or anxious: Letty wasn't sure which. "What do you mean it worked?"

"I mean it worked," Elizabeth said.

From where she stood, Letty couldn't see the entirety of the device Shaw was holding, but it looked a hell of a lot like what she'd installed in Letty's car. If it was one of the GPS systems then why the hell was she talking about calculations while holding something completely unrelated? Was she merely multitasking like the rest of them, Letty wondered, or was there something else going on?

Then Owen pressed further. "Are you sure?"

"I just checked it for a fourth time. Look at it and tell me what it says."

". . . Okay. What now?"

"Now you get your bloody car finished."

Chapter Text

Elbow-deep in dishes, with only the stovetop light for illumination, Elizabeth scrubbed the last of the plates clean. Toretto had cooked some variant of paella while Ramsey and Parker whipped up the best jerk chicken she'd ever tasted. O'Conner had offered to help wash up, but a quick 'I'll be working late' shut them all down before anyone else could try to press the issue.

With any luck, the warehouse would be vacant now. The clock on the microwave said it was close to midnight, and Hobbs had disappeared shortly after dessert. Where he went was anyone's guess, but so long as the Fed wasn't on her arse, his business was his own.

"You aren't subtle, are you?"

That cold voice was the first indication she wasn't alone. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and raised goosebumps along her arms. There'd been no footsteps, no noise to indicate a presence of any kind. You're good. Elizabeth wrapped her fingers around the handle of a kitchen knife and lifted it out of the sink, then proceeded to dry it with the tea towel tossed over her shoulder.

She turned to stare at the figure in the kitchen doorway, eyes straining to make anything out. They were completely swathed in shadows, head angled perfectly so as to hide any distinguishing features. "You know who I am."

"It's why I'm here."

Male. American.

"And you know what I'm capable of?"

Teeth flashed for a moment as he chuckled. "It's why I'm here. Cipher sends her regards."

"There's a 'but' coming, isn't there?"

"Unfortunately, she won't be needing your services this time. Her new team is…uniquely qualified."

Elizabeth helped herself to a seat and propped her boots up on the table. She twisted the knife back and forth in her hands, careful not to nick herself. "Cipher says that to all the girls," she sighed. "Is that everything?"

"Whatever you think you're playing at, Miss Shaw, I wouldn't."

In the few seconds it took her to glance down at her lap then up at the doorway, the figure disappeared through the emergency exit. Elizabeth groaned and dropped her feet to the floor then stood, returning the kitchen knife to its block. No doubt an alarm of some kind had been triggered.

Or not.

If it was rigged to the security system then whoever that'd been had to know how rapid the response time was. After a moment, she returned to the sink, washed and dried the remaining plates, and stacked them away in the cupboards.

Twenty minutes later, she descended the stairs with a steaming mug. In an ideal world, Elizabeth would've been asleep by ten o'clock, but it was not, and whoever had been standing in the kitchen doorway bore a clear message: stop.

"Not gonna happen," she murmured to herself, "and you know it."

There was no turning back now. Not when the money was within arm's reach. Certainly not because some wanker had decided he was the new Michael Myers. She walked down the center aisle, eyes scanning her orange-tinted surroundings, and drank her tea as she went.

At night, the warehouse switched over to dim safety lights, but Elizabeth could still read the plates on Toretto's car and make out the labelling on equipment. She was also perfectly able to recognise the figure lifting weights on the bench press.

"I'd ask if you're watching me," she called out, "but seeing as there's only one gym, I think it's safe to say you can't sleep."

A sinking feeling had formed in the pit of his stomach after Owen's car slipped off its jack, and no matter what Deckard tried, he just couldn't shake it. Something was off about the entire mission. The same feeling had struck him the day ETEON came calling, and the night Owen was meant to leave Spain. "You either, eh?"

"Mmhmm." She seated herself on the end of the bench press, between his knees, and drank the rest of her tea. "Scared, I guess. Wondering how it'll go wrong this time. Whether I'll lose you both."

"You won't." Deckard set the bar on the rack then slid forward and sat upright. The ache in his arms was a welcome sensation, as well as the feeling of tiredness that came with it. "Someone could gather all our enemies and they still wouldn't have enough men to stop us."

Elizabeth cast a wary glance over her shoulder. That didn't sound quite as reassuring as Deckard presumably intended it to be. "How many do we have?"

"Not including the ones who are dead or comatose?" Owen's voice came from behind them. Deckard didn't so much as twitch, but Beth jerked in surprise. It was a…disappointing reaction. At some point, she'd lost her unconscious awareness of his presence. "Three."

"Cipher," Elizabeth said. "Naturally."

Owen nodded. "Toretto."

"And Hobbs," Deckard finished.

"So are you going to tell us who that was upstairs with you," Owen said, "or do I need to call Hattie and have her pry the answer out of you?"

Son of a bitch. Owen had seen that? "You tell me. I was looking right at them and couldn't make out a damn thing."

"What did they want?"

"Cipher sends her regards," Beth mocked. "And she now possesses a 'uniquely qualified' team."

"She wouldn't send someone here just to brag." Deckard frowned. If someone had breached the base, that didn't bode well for their overall security. They needed to pack up immediately. Move elsewhere. Go as far deep underground as they could. "What else?"

"That's it." She stood and kept her back to them, taking the opportunity to compose herself. Better her brothers didn't see the worried look in her eyes. "She probably noticed Toretto on one of her satellites and sent them as a warning."

"If Cipher knows we're here," Deckard swung himself around to face Owen, "she knows we're not ready. She could hit us at any time."

"What do you suggest we do?" It was dark, late, and they were being watched. She'd never liked having to look over her shoulder, but it was something Beth had grown used to over the past few years. "If we run, she'll still follow us on satellite."

"It's the only option we have right now."

Surely Deckard didn't think waking everyone and hopping on the next plane to Alaska would actually work. "The plan stays the same. No one needs to know about tonight."

"The base has been compromised."

"They visited her." Owen pointed at Beth. "Not anyone else. If we run, Cipher knows that the only Shaw she trusts has been turned."

Playing both sides was risky. Far too risky in Deckard's eyes. One slip-up and they would all be on the receiving end of a bullet. The cost of everything going wrong far outweighed the benefits, and he had no desire to go through this nightmare again.

"If you two are done," Beth interrupted, "I'm going to bed."

"Don't tell Hobbs either."

"I won't," she lied.

Who was Owen kidding? Of course she would, so long as the Fed promised to keep his mouth shut. Elizabeth didn't want him kicking her door down in the morning once base security told him someone tripped the alarms in the middle of the night. Better to piss him off now than later. Hell, there was a slight chance that honesty would even earn her a little wiggle room.

Perhaps enough to let her leave the base and go to Los Angeles for a day.

There was no sense knocking on his door and making enough noise to wake Toretto's team, Elizabeth decided, so breaking and entering it was. Wood chips crunched quietly beneath her bare feet as she approached the rear of his motel room and the bathroom window.

It sat about five feet off the ground — not so high as to be an impossible climb, but not so easy either — and looked to be unlocked. Maybe the revolver he carried was enough of a guarantee that no one would think about attacking him in his own room, but Elizabeth doubted he'd ever had to use it.

She took one more step forward, close enough to press her face up against the glass, and began working the window upwards. The gap at the bottom was only enough to fit her nails into, but the more she pushed, the larger it grew. Eventually, there was enough space for her fingers.

Inch by inch it rose, till Elizabeth judged she had enough space to squeeze through. Now came the fun part. She gripped the bricks, dug her fingers and toes into the gaps where the mortar lay, and pushed. Climbed high enough till she could put one arm through the window and pull the rest of her body up with her.

Once she was halfway through, she grasped the bathroom sink for leverage and slipped her leg inside. A moment later, Elizabeth found herself standing in a bathroom identical to hers. Ugly salmon pink tiles, shower on the left with no curtain, and the toilet squashed in next to it.

And by some God-given luck, Hobbs wasn't seated on it.

She lifted a dry hand towel off the rack and slowly moved towards the bathroom door. Her heart was beginning to pound with every step. A lump had formed in her throat, and try as she might, it wouldn't go away. He's going to kill you, Elizabeth thought. You've tried stabbing him, threatening him, and now you're trespassing in his room. Great job, you idiot.

Fortunately, she didn't have to twist the handle. The door was ajar. A single tug, a quiet squeal from the hinges, and she could see the rest of his motel room. The outside lights filtered through the curtains, illuminating the large figure on the bed.

For once, Hobbs looked at peace. His head faced the door, left leg hung off the bed. Flat on his back, Elizabeth could just make out the waistband of his briefs. An uneasy smile formed on her face in response — Hobbs seemed like more of a boxers guy, but whatever worked.

She scrunched up the hand towel and hurled it at him. It fell just shy of the bed, beside the dresser with the alarm clock on it.

Shit.

Throwing a boot at him would only serve to get her shot. Pelting a toothbrush at him could work, Beth considered, but it would likely work out as well as the towel. And if she shook him — either Hobbs was a heavy sleeper, or damn good at pretending to be — then the first thing he'd do was toss her arse halfway across the room.

Well, that was better than getting shot, she supposed. Better than being chewed out in the morning.

Moving on the balls of her feet, she walked as softly as possible towards the bed. Her uneasy smile transformed into an awkward one as the knowledge that Hobbs was almost completely naked sank in. Beth bit her bottom lip in an attempt to suppress it, and for a moment it worked.

The next, a set of muscular legs wrapped around her waist and lifted her. She crashed face first into the mattress, grunting upon impact. Those same legs held her while her arm was almost wrenched out of its socket.

"You have ten seconds to tell me why you're in my goddamn room before I break your shoulder." He'd heard a noise, like a squeal, and then a soft set of footsteps on carpet. Instead of being shot the moment he so much as twitched, Luke had chosen to lay in wait. The figure kicked out with their legs, struggling to break free, but he held fast. "Don't make me ask twice."

Elizabeth grit her teeth as pain surged through her upper body. Through them, she wheezed out, "Hobbs!"

"Eight seconds."

Whoever they were, he was sure to get a good look at them now. With one hand, he reached for the touch-activated bedside lamp. Luke's fingers brushed the base, illuminating the room with dim light, just as the figure slapped their hand against his legs. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. Long dark hair tied back into a ponytail, a very much female form, and a tattoo of a star on their knee.

A woman? Someone had sent a—

Luke's eyes tracked back to her face and that somewhat familiar gaze. Oh shit. This had to be a joke, right? Either someone was pranking him or…

Son of a bitch.

In disbelief, he asked, "Shaw?"

She struck his leg harder this time.

"Jesus Christ." He released her arm and unlocked his legs. "What the hell are you doing in my room, woman?"

Elizabeth took in a few deep breaths and nodded. She gave herself a moment before sitting up and rubbing her neck. "Needed to talk. Didn't want to…wake the neighbours."

"About what?"

A few more seconds and Luke would've dislocated her arm. Messed up her shoulder. An injury like that would've required weeks to recover from. What the hell had Shaw been thinking?

"Cipher." She wriggled her way across the bed and turned the lamp off. It was better that no one knew she was in here, or that Hobbs was awake. And…underdressed. "She, um, sent a message."

"And this couldn't wait till morning?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head despite the darkness. Better to get it (and him) off her chest now. "Someone paid me a visit while I was in the kitchen. Cipher knows where we are. I'm guessing she noticed Toretto's car, but yeah. She's found us."

"And what was the message?"

"She's gotten herself an upgrade, so I'm obsolete."

"Did you get a look at their face?"

"It was too dark. And they stood so the light only cast more shadow." There was a possibility she'd recognise the voice, but what were the odds Elizabeth would ever hear it again? "Whoever he was, he didn't blink when I pulled the knife out."

Luke groaned and wiped his face with his hands. Of course she'd gone for a knife. Alone in a room, confronted by someone whose face she couldn't see? Despite how useless one was in her hands, Shaw had given herself a fighting chance, however miniscule it was.

"What else?" He moved to the edge of the bed and sat there, waiting for her to talk again. Avoiding two ass kickings in one night had to be a record for Shaw. "Accent? Height? Footsteps?"

"Until he spoke, I didn't hear a thing." She felt the mattress sink. Hobbs had moved. In the dim light, she was just able to make out the shape of his head. "He used an American accent, and when he laughed, I saw his teeth. Stood about Deckard's height, if I had to guess."

A tall male wasn't much of a description, but the fact he could sneak up on someone suggested military training. Or some kind of elite taskforce. Stealth wasn't usually something civilians concerned themselves with.

"How'd he get in?"

"Emergency exit, I guess. He also said…'Whatever you think you're playing at, I wouldn't.' I don't care if Cipher knows I'm coming for her money, but if she thinks some creepy bastard in a—"

Quiet footsteps sounded on the pavement outside, then a faint knock and an English accent that called, "Hobbs!"

"Oh great," Luke whispered. "More of you. Does Deckard know about the intruder?"

"He and Owen both."

"Just a minute," Luke said, loud enough for Shaw's brother to hear. Then he turned to Elizabeth again and stood up so as to answer the door. "Alright. You need to hide or…something. I'm not in the mood to explain why you're in my bedroom."

"Fine." She pushed the bedsheets down then slipped beneath them, rolling onto her left side to face the tiny kitchenette. After freeing her ponytail, she snagged one of Hobbs' pillows and tucked it under her head. Without another glance at the Fed, Beth pulled the sheets up to her neck and closed her eyes.

Chapter Text

When Elizabeth woke, the sheets were down around her knees, along with her pants. At some point she'd tossed and turned, kicked them off so as to stop sweating. It was warmer in here than her own room, stuffier with the front window shut and the curtain closed. The AC helped a little, but even it couldn't properly combat the humidity.

She climbed out of bed and staggered towards the bathroom. The door was closed, blocking out the exterior lights, and nothing shone through the gap beneath it.

"Hobbs? You in there?"

Silence.

Maybe he'd gone for a run — it had to be close to six o'clock, surely — or left to check things with base security. She eased the door open and slipped inside, eyes going straight to the shower on her right. It was empty. Good.

Elizabeth turned the cold tap on then peeled off her shirt, let her pants fall to the floor. A burst of warm water came through the pipes before it finally ran cold. Cupping her hands, she splashed her face and neck before plunging her head into the spray. Rivulets ran down her back, soaking into her bra and underwear, and streamed off her chin.

There was no better way to wake up than stepping into an icy shower. The chill, the inevitable shiver down her spine as her body rapidly cooled — it was the only relief she'd found in Cuba, short of driving to the beach and jumping in the ocean.

"No footage at all?"

Hobbs' voice came from outside. Good. It seemed he was back. She wanted to ask if he had any packets of tea in the cupboard. Just up and searching through his kitchen felt a little rude.

"None." A second voice. Male. American. Familiar. "Wouldn't you know it but all the camera feeds went down just minutes earlier."

Reisner.

Oh shit. If he came inside, he was liable to see her standing there in the bathroom with almost no clothes on. And that guy was the last one she wanted to explain her unwarranted presence to.

"It's a little convenient," said Luke. "You think Shaw can still be trusted?"

At that, Elizabeth straightened herself out and scowled. Was he really in a position to be asking that? If she'd wanted to shut him up permanently, she'd had plenty of opportunity to do it last night when he was asleep. Throat exposed, bare chest there for all to see - a knife through his rib cage would've stopped Hobbs in his tracks, regardless of how fast he reached for that revolver.

"I don't know." Little Nobody again. "But the threat we need to focus on is Cipher. The Shaws can be handled later."

Handled? She turned to face the motel room and glared at the figure standing in front of Hobbs. With one arm braced against the door jamb, the Fed almost completely blocked her line of sight, but she could make out Reisner's face. I'll handle you first.

"Alright. If anything else comes up, let me know."

"Sure thing, Hobbs."

Once the front door was closed, Elizabeth turned the shower off and picked her clothes up off the floor, making for the bed. "He couldn't handle us," she said, gesturing at the door with her shirt, "if his life depended on it."

"Ahem." Luke cleared his throat as he sat himself on the bed and removed his boots. "You want to, uh..."

"What?"

"Clothes."

"Oh, please," Elizabeth scoffed. What was it with men and acting like prudes whenever a woman dared to expose her underwear? "Don't pretend like you haven't seen a bra before."

"Will you just—"

"Alright," she sighed. Elizabeth seated herself atop the bedsheets and slipped her clothes on, leaving a damp spot where water dripped from her hair. "No need to get your knickers in a knot."

"Uh-huh. You've had your fun, Shaw. Now it's time for you to climb out of my bathroom and into yours."

"About that..." There was a little hint of glee in her voice when Elizabeth said, "I'll have to use the front door."

Luke groaned into his hand. She was yanking his chain, wasn't she? If anyone saw her coming out of his room, damp from a shower and with no shoes on, they wouldn't let him live it down. "Your window is locked, isn't it?"

Now that she knew someone was lurking around, security was absolutely paramount. There was no sense in leaving herself exposed, or putting herself at further risk of a visit from their guest. "Unlike you, I take my personal safety rather seriously."

Him? Shaw should've been thanking him for allowing her to stay instead of waking her up and throwing her out on her ass. Or putting a bullet in her the second he heard that bathroom door squeal. "Well, I wasn't expecting Goldilocks to break in and help herself to my bed."

Again, she stood, and made her way to the front door. Elizabeth eased it open only to pause and glance over her shoulder at him. "See you around, Fed."

Then she was outside, pulling it closed behind her. Thank God. If Shaw had lingered any longer, there was every chance she might have started asking for breakfast, or to really use his shower.

"Before I forget—" Elizabeth poked her head back in the room "—you might want to consider getting a curtain. You can see just about everything from back there."

All things considered, it was an ideal line of sight. Perfect for monitoring the rest of the room. Unlike his, however, her own bathroom faced the kitchenette, completely blocking any view of the front door. If only she'd had the opportunity to claim Hobbs' room before he did.

"I'll be sure to let the managers know that," Luke said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Goodbye, Miss Shaw."

"How the hell did they get on base without security noticing?" Deckard asked. He crossed his arms, scowled at the normal security feeds showing on the array of monitors, then turned his head towards Dom who stood beside him. "You wouldn't happen to know if Cipher had any spec-ops soldiers working for her, would you?"

"Apart from your brother?"

"Yes."

Externally, Dom kept his face as blank as possible. Internally, he was smiling. Deckard had taken one more step towards acknowledging the concept of culpability. "No. Cipher kept everything compartmentalised. Rhodes was the only one of her goons I met."

Well there went that theory. It would've been too easy if Dom had just pointed them in the right direction. Nothing about this mission was in their favour, and Deckard had a feeling it never would be. Any other time, he might have called this breach in security an opportunity. Then he craned his neck to look over his shoulder. "…Does something about this whole thing feel odd to you?"

Hobbs leaned against the doorjamb just several feet behind Deckard, arms crossed over his chest. "The part where they avoided the security system," he asked, "or the fact we don't know if they left the base?"

The real problem was they didn't know if their intruder were a member of base security or some asshole who'd gotten the luck of the draw. Hobbs had never liked the idea of looking over his shoulder, of fearing that someone was out to get him; but over the past few hours, Luke had become unable to shake the feeling that someone had eyes on him. That one misstep would bring the entire operation down on their heads.

Now, due to the precarious position they found themselves in, the options he might have taken — running, hunting, dangling the Shaws like bait on a hook — were being removed from the table. Cipher had put them in check without so much as firing a single bullet, and all thanks to…her.

If he cut Elizabeth loose, threw her to the wolves, who knew what kind of damage Shaw could do. Yet if he locked her up and threw away the key, it'd be tantamount to admitting he had no faith in his team. Pulling her out days ago mightn't have caused problems, but Letty would sure as shit notice her absence now. The last thing he wanted was her in his face, demanding a truth he'd actively chosen to conceal.

Unless he was right, and their late night visitor was still on base, monitoring them. Watching for the slightest hint of betrayal, in which case pissing Letty off was the only option he had. Luke groaned into his hands as he rubbed them over his face, resting his head back against the jamb. He wasn't some tactical mastermind — not the kind he needed to be when dealing with a cyberterrorist, anyway. Following someone through the Brazilian favelas and using Elena as an intercept was one thing. This? This goddamn nightmare was something else entirely that no amount of DSS training could've prepared him for.

"Don't think too hard, Hobbs," Deckard said smugly. "That head of yours might grow bigger if you do."

The snark went ignored. Luke pushed himself off the jamb and stood in the doorway, both hands coming to rest atop his head with his fingers laced. "Schrödinger. Until you open the box, the cat's both alive and dead, right?"

"Uh-huh." But what did quantum mechanics have to do with their current situation? There was no escaping the fact they were on the back foot. Cipher had put them in a corner and Deckard couldn't see a way out that didn't involve compromising themselves. "Spit it out, Hobbs."

"There are no cameras in the warehouse," said Hobbs. "Only microphones, and the glass windows are all tinted."

A smile crossed Dom's face. He looked at Hobbs once then nodded. Now he knew what the Fed was getting at. If the cars picked them up from within the warehouse, neither Cipher nor her new hire could be certain that they'd left at all. Provided they disappeared in the middle of the night, quietly and without much fuss, then Cipher would have to tip her hand if she wanted to know where they'd gone. "The problem is our cars. If we leave, they'll have to stay behind."

They weren't the only thing that would, Luke thought. The box couldn't be closed if the cat was out and walking around. No matter how foul a taste it'd leave in his mouth, if he had to drag Shaw kicking and screaming into a prison cell, then that was exactly what he'd do.

"I'll arrange for new ones to be delivered from the Toy Shop. In the meantime, pack your bags."

"You can't be serious, Hobbs," Deckard said. The look on his face was incredulous. "If that bastard's on base, he'll see the convoy leave. You're playing chicken with a psychopath. You understand that, don't you?"

"If you've got a problem following orders, Major, feel free to sit this one out." Understandably, he'd be in a cell too while he did. "I don't need you questioning my—"

The venomous glare Deckard gave him would've made a lesser man shit his pants, but Luke stepped aside without so much as twitching when he went to leave the room. Shaw could argue all he wanted, but the situation was clear. They had an opportunity to cut the head off the snake before its fangs were bared. Better to take that chance than wait for it to turn around and bite them.

Once Shaw was gone, Dom asked, "You really want to do this, cop?"

Hobbs looked Dom in the eye and said as earnestly as possible, "Do you really want to wait for her to strike first? Last time, she took Elena and Marcus."

He didn't bother to follow through on the rest of his train of thought. The stakes were higher now — Sam, Mia, Elena, the kids…Hattie — but the odds of a happy ending were also that much lower. There'd be no surprise for Cipher, no soldiers kicking her door down and rescuing their family, if everything went south while they sat on their hands.

"No." Dom followed in Shaw's wake, moving past Hobbs into the corridor. "I'm tired of sitting around with my hands tied."

"We'll leave tonight once it's dark."

A nod as Toretto walked around the corner was his only acknowledgement of Hobbs' words. After a moment, Luke focused his attention on the monitor array and helped himself to a seat. There had to be something they'd missed. Some indication that Shaw was telling the truth and wasn't in fact leading Cipher straight to them.

The way she'd come into his room, risked a dislocated shoulder, told Luke he could trust that she hadn't made things up, but the validity of the only other witness was dubious at best. As much as Luke wanted to believe Owen, and her, he'd come to learn a great deal about the Shaws. First and foremost, he knew that only a fool would be stupid enough to accept them at face value.

"Alright," Luke muttered, sliding the computer mouse towards him, "let's see what else you picked up last night."

A set of wireless headphones were perched on a stand. He slipped them on, adjusted the volume and found a folder with the correct date. Dozens of recordings sat within it, sorted by time. It'd been late last night when Shaw broke into his room, but the incident couldn't have happened more than forty, fifty minutes before then.

Although Reisner had said the cameras were taken out, the warehouse's parabolic mics were on an entirely different subnetwork. Unless the base's power was shut down, they'd still be triggered once someone stepped inside the building.

He began speeding through earlier files, starting at 23:00 and continuing on. Footsteps, dishes clinking — Shaw in the kitchen? — and someone hitting a punching bag. All ambient noise in the face of things. Dishes again when he checked the next file. Footsteps. Someone still working out.

Footsteps again, dishes, weights, then...

"You aren't subtle, are you?"

The voice wasn't loud, but the proximity of the microphones helped. American male, just as Shaw had said.

"You know who I am."

"It's why I'm here."

"And you know what I'm capable of?"

Luke scoffed and shook his head. In that vein, their visitor was right. Shaw didn't know the meaning of subtlety. The conversation continued on like that, back and forth, till it came to an abrupt end. No witty banter, no acknowledgment of the apparent knife Shaw had wielded, just…

"Whatever you think you're playing at, Miss Shaw, I wouldn't."

Shit. Did Cipher know she was coming for the money? That Luke had turned a blind eye to her antics and whatever ensued? It'd been a spur of the moment decision, and now that deal with the devil was indeed biting him in the ass.

There was every possibility that last night's event had nothing to do with Shaw and her plan, that Cipher really had noticed them via satellite imagery, yet it didn't matter. Luke was no longer willing to take that chance. From here on in, there'd be no more deals. No more bullshit.

Risking the team's lives on a hunch had been a stupid idea in the first place, but all that was over with now. The original plan was back in play: strike before Cipher could so much as blink.

Luke stood and closed the audio file, returned the headphones to their stand then finally left the room. He'd speak to security tonight, organise Shaw's removal from the base and subsequent placement elsewhere. If necessary, he'd drop her down a hole where not even Hattie could find her.

The window of opportunity would be tight, but Hobbs felt certain they'd pull it off. He trusted Nobody's men to get the job done and do it right. There was no sense giving her the chance to resist.

I'm sorry, Deckard. His boots hit the warehouse floor and Luke proceeded up the centre aisle, towards the table the team were gathered around. All bar Elizabeth were there, and the two Shaws looked annoyed. But they both need to be stopped.

"Alright," Dom began. "You want to explain the plan, Hobbs?"

Luke shrugged. "I think I'll let you do the talking this time, Toretto."

Letty looked at Dom and raised her eyebrows. They were here to do a job, not practise their manners. "Why don't you both just explain the plan instead of wasting our time?"

Right. Hobbs nodded and said, "we're leaving tonight in a two car convoy."

"Why?"

"There was a security breach," Dom explained. "Cipher left us a message."

He could see the anger in Letty's eyes, the frustration. Something had happened and he hadn't told her. Keeping her out of the loop wasn't an intentional choice but it might as well have been in her eyes. After Mexico, after Cipher, she deserved the truth no matter how uncomfortable it was.

"Someone broke into the warehouse

last night. Before they did, the cameras were taken down," Luke said. "We've got no visuals, no nothing."

"So we're running with our tails between our legs," Brian interrupted. "Or is there a strategy to this?"

Luke didn't justify the accusation with a response. They were regrouping. Being smart. "Ramsey, how close are you to finding the truck?"

"The data is old," she said. "But it tends to stay on the same highway for months so accounting for speed, direction, fuel consumption…" Every variable had been listed, every byte of data tracked and recorded by Cipher's system. "It should be somewhere in Nevada. It'll take a few more hours but I might be able to narrow the location down to a fifty mile radius. From there, we could use God's Eye."

"Do it."

"Oh, shit." Roman's eyes lit up at the realisation. The grin on his face said it all: things were finally getting interesting. "So you want to hit Cipher tonight."

"Tomorrow." Hobbs wasn't about to let them drive on little to no sleep. "There's a base in Nevada where we'll pick up your new wheels."

They all made it sound so simple. Go here, do this, go there, do that. Had Hobbs and Dom forgotten the submarine? New York? One misstep would land them all in early graves. Letty frowned and fixed her gaze on Hobbs. "How do you propose we get to Nevada without Cipher noticing?"

"We go to another warehouse and change cars there."

"You're daft if you think this will work, Hobbs."

Well he didn't hear Deckard suggesting anything better, or a plan that didn't involve risking their necks so as to lure Cipher out. She already had the advantage, no matter how he looked at it, so all they could do was try and level the playing field.

"If it does, we have her servers," Luke said, with a hint of finality to his voice. He was tired of arguing over plans. "If it doesn't, we'll have gotten her attention."

Chapter Text

Letty didn't have to be a mind-reader to know something was up. They'd planned on fixing their cars first, getting ready — Owen's rampcar was still days from being finished, her own needed the wheels replaced and the chassis protected — and yet here Hobbs was, telling them things had changed.

She understood Dom's concern. Letty had seen the aftermath of Deckard's fury, experienced Owen's first hand, but Cipher? All she had was…nothing. The bitch couldn't plot her way out of a paper bag. Her plane and computer were locked up, secured by Ramsey herself, but one 'message' had Hobbs and Dom running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

Once the meeting was over, the plan set in motion, Letty left the group to talk amongst themselves and made her way upstairs to the kitchen. She needed a drink, something stronger than water, and a moment away from this bullshit.

No one, not even the sly English bastard to her left, had mentioned what the rest of the team would be doing. She hadn't wanted to bring it up at the table, but Hobbs had conveniently avoided the obvious question: would it be the eleven of them leaving? Or just nine?

Letty had left people behind before — if Ivory's dead, he made a mistake — and the consequences were less than pleasant. She'd also been on the other end of the situation. When Dom had abandoned her in Mexico, she'd been furious at the idea that he could look her in the eye, tell her it was ride or die, then throw her aside like she was no more than a dirty rag.

"Goddamn you, Dom," she muttered. Letty swung a cabinet door open, withdrew a bottle of bourbon set aside for 'cooking', and popped the lid. The first sip burned her throat, made her cough and splutter. The second went down a little easier. She fixed the lid back on and shoved the bottle back into the cabinet before anyone saw or asked if she wanted to share. "We didn't renew our vows so you could throw them back in my face."

If they hadn't said anything, Letty wondered, would Dom have just upped and left with Hobbs and the Shaws during the night, and not told them about Cipher's message? Would she have found out tomorrow morning once he was gone and yet another note sat on her bedside drawer? Shit. Letty seated herself on a chair and braced her arm on the back of it, resting her head in her hand. Where's a phone when you need one?

A call to Mia, or Elena, might have pulled her out of this funk. Hearing Marcus's incessant laugh and that high pitch giggle would've brought a smile to her face, but Letty wasn't allowed to have that much. No contact meant no contact, not so much as five seconds to hear her son's voice for the first time in days.

Being stuck here, not knowing if Elena, Mia and the kids were safe, was already pushing her towards breaking point after only a few days. Yet the way Hobbs had talked in the beginning suggested he expected them to be there for weeks, possibly months.

"You look like shit, dyevushka."

Letty looked up to see Elizabeth standing in the kitchen doorway. Had Shaw come from the bathroom, she wondered, or been standing in the corridor, watching as Letty dulled the ache in her chest with alcohol like some pathetic teenager? "Did you really just call me—"

"Sorry." Shaw immediately held both hands up. Most women (in Moscow) would've gone along with it, but not her. No, she couldn't be charmed by complimentary nicknames and sweet-talking. "Old habit."

"Just 'Letty' is fine."

"Sure." Beth scratched the back of her neck with her left hand, right shoulder resting against the door jamb. Gaze focused on the countertop behind Letty, she asked, "…What's got you sitting in the dark then?"

There were so many things that it was hard to pick just one. She was tired of the bullshit, the lies, the fear she'd wake up one day and find Dom had walked out on her. Scared that in a few months, this thing that might very well be inside her would grow and everyone would notice. Worse, they'd all walk on eggshells around her like she was some fragile princess.

"…I'm two months late," Letty said quietly. Everything was coming back to the forefront of her mind. Her conversation with Mia, the note from Elena, Dom asking her where all this was coming from on the plane.

Shit. "Have you told anyone else?"

"Dom's sister. Ramsey. " She paused, hesitant to go on as if one more word would somehow summon her husband into the room. Right now, it wasn't real yet. That double line didn't exist. Without a finite answer, there was no reason for Letty to pretend she felt anything but indifference. "I was planning on getting a test but now we're leaving tonight, it's like, what am I meant to do, y'know?"

Leaving? Tonight? Were they making a move before the pieces had so much as been assembled? If Hobbs charged head first into this, he'd get everyone killed. While the odds leaned in favour of her brothers surviving, Letty and the rest would find themselves smeared across the highway.

"You could just duck out." Elizabeth hesitated, glancing at the emergency exit she'd entered via. "My car's outside. There's got to be a pharmacy somewhere."

Letty shook her head slightly. Dom would notice if she disappeared for several hours; sooner or later, he'd ask questions and she really didn't want to lie to him, or dump further disappointment on his shoulders. "Thanks, but I'm good."

"Yo, Letty!" Roman's voice carried from the base of the stairs. "You need to come teach your husband some manners. He's talking shit about my car."

"God. I—I gotta deal with this." She sighed and stood, pushing her chair back into place. It was better not knowing the truth, right? If something went wrong, Letty didn't want to have an attachment to this…whatever. "See you around, Shaw."

"See you." Elizabeth fetched a water bottle from the freezer as Letty disappear down the hallway. It seemed they really were leaving just like that. No word of warning, no goodbye. Had that been what this morning's meeting was about? Them deciding that going on a suicide mission was a good idea?

She left the kitchen, elbowed the emergency door open and stepped outside. Let it slam shut behind her while she slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Unless they'd reset the security settings, Beth thought, the open port in their system would still act as her back door, and from there…

Elizabeth climbed into the idling Marussia, tossed the bottle and her shades on the passenger seat, and peeled away from the kerb. Two klicks west, there was nothing but empty buildings in every direction. No visible external security cameras nor any signs of patrols. Twigs lay undisturbed on the road and footpaths while cobwebs gathered dust in the corners of disused automatic doors.

After adjusting the GPS on her dash, it lit up when the satellite connection was secured, and again once the secondary network was found. She did her best to type the message one letter at a time, scowling at the screen whenever it misinterpreted her touch.

Talk? Mic on.

Perhaps it would take Cipher minutes to respond, or hours. Maybe not at all. That bastard's message had been clear — back off — but lackeys didn't speak for their employers.

Instead, it took seconds.

"I've encrypted the connection. What do you want?"

"No pleasantries, huh?"

"It's—"

Cipher didn't do 'hello' and 'goodbye'. It was part of the reason she'd actually enjoyed the work — professionalism was expected, sans the caring family vibes and heart to hearts. "Good. I'm not here to kiss your arse."

"Succinct as always, Elizabeth."

"They're planning to—"

"Attack the convoy?" Cipher interrupted. "I know. I listened to the discussion myself. Ramsey's impressive as ever."

Shit. The open port functioned as a doorway: one that led right to Nobody's own system. If the team stayed on base, that error in judgement would have to be corrected, along with certain others.

"It already left Nevada. However," Cipher continued, "in the off chance they do find it, I've made certain there won't be a repeat of last time."

"…What happened last time?"

"They tipped a multi-million dollar vehicle over a cliff."

Beth clapped her hand over her mouth, suppressing as much of her laughter as possible. "Over a—I'm sorry, why exactly was there a cliff involved?"

"I made the mistake of hiring help."

"You've made that mistake a lot these past few years."

"Elle."

"Yes?"

"Don't push your luck."

Through the windows, Beth watched, eyes constantly shifting over her surroundings in case of movement, though the shadows changed only with the sun and breeze. Elizabeth muttered, "Well I can't push anything else, right now, can I?"

"I heard that."

"S—" The unnecessary apology died on her lips as a shadow extended from between the buildings. Roughly humanoid in shape, it stretched across the pavement like a warning. "I think someone's here."

"Relax. I thought it was about time you two met properly."

Met? Oh for the love of God. This wasn't the arsehole from last night, was it? If so, she was going to kill Cipher. Elizabeth had been glancing over her shoulder all morning, wondering if he was going to pop his head up again, and now he was here, lurking in the shadows.

"Are you certain it's him?" Beth asked. As far as she knew, no one else had followed her but there'd always been the opportunity for Owen or Deckard to tail her. Or Hobbs, though the shadow seemed somewhat smaller than one cast by the Fed should be. "The last thing I need is more problems."

That cold voice came from the speaker of her GPS, as if the bastard were right there in the car with her. "But surely you could solve them all on your own."

"Step out from between the buildings," Beth asked, "will you?"

"I'd rather not. It's a little warm today if you haven't noticed."

More like scorching, but she wasn't about to complain. "Either it's you or I've been tailed. For the sake of not ending this conversation prematurely, wave your right hand."

The figure stepped out from the shadows; a tall white man, dark-haired, with the musculature of someone who worked out. He raised his arm and waved.

"Now you do the same."

She wound her window down, stretched her arm out and flipped him the bird.

A laugh. "It's lovely to see you too, Miss Shaw."

"Can we proceed now?" Cipher's voice was filled with irritation. "I wouldn't be speaking with the both of you if I weren't certain the location was secure."

"So you say Toretto is making a move tonight?" he asked.

Cipher huffed. "Yes."

"Then I'll make mine."

"No, you won't," Beth snapped. Blowing up a building full of cars, full of explosives, would be akin to lighting a signal fire and drawing the attention of the entire U.S military. "Hobbs extended an olive branch but it doesn't mean he trusts me. If you do something, it'll be my arse that's caught."

"I didn't say what I'd be doing would affect you." His voice seemed to deepen, as if something had crossed his mind. It was the same tone Owen took when he was ready to swap a piece out. "My only interest is Toretto."

"Everyone's interest is Dominic fucking Toretto. Tell me something I don't know."

"He's my brother."

Well that was interesting. Elizabeth smirked, crossing her arms and sinking into the plush leather seat. She couldn't imagine Owen and Deckard turning against each other, not like that, yet Tall, Dark and Mysterious claimed to have done so. "I assume you verified this, Cipher?"

"I've seen the photos. Yes."

Nothing in the files indicated there was another sibling, although the same could be said of her brothers' as well. "How dead would you like him?"

"Cut Hobbs' heart out if you want, make Dom watch his wife suffer, but he's mine. Is that understood?"

"I suppose you'll have to get to him first then." Elizabeth reached for the power button on the GPS and flicked it up, turning the device off. This guy was serious, wasn't he? Well so was she. Just because he had an old grudge didn't mean Elizabeth would let him cut in line. "Oh that's not good," she murmured, turning the Marussia around and leaving Toretto's brother in her rearview. "…You've really gone off the deep end, Cipher, haven't you?"

Now only one question remained: if the truck wasn't in Nevada, where was it? Better yet, what had it been replaced with? How big of a trap were her brothers about to walk into, and how deep a hole would she have to dig herself before Hobbs listened?

"Bozhe," she murmured, unconsciously pressing the accelerator down. The needle rose higher as she drove, eyes fixed on the road, her mind elsewhere. "Running is only going to prolong this. Take the money and she's crippled, but the money's only exposed if you have the—"

Elizabeth didn't see the Gurkha at first. It was little more than a blur in her peripheral vision. When the world tilted, however, it filled her line of sight. One moment everything had been fine, she thought, the next it wasn't. Why? And why did the road suddenly appear so close?

Glass cracked yet held in place, the armour plating taking the brunt of the impact while the Marussia rolled like a pin. Side over side, the exterior panels tearing open; chunks of asphalt flung into the air, side mirrors strewn across the road like breadcrumbs.

Her head smack against the side window once the car landed on one side and everything finally stopped spinning. Beth groaned, body throbbing with pain, hanging upside down in her seat. The GPS on her dash was shattered, the water bottle cracked and spilled across the seat and footwell along with her shades.

"Nngh." This wasn't good, was it? She reached up, fumbling for the belt button. They needed to know. Needed to…Elizabeth released the clasp. Felt herself fall and her legs come tumbling after. Her back hit the floor — roof? — while her eyes adjusted to the change in orientation. "Ow." Beth winced. The seatbelt had done its job, but if she had to guess, her body would be purple come sunset. She reached out with one hand and patted the steering wheel, mumbling, "I'm sorry, dushka."

"Shaw!"

Someone calling her name? Maybe. Might be that knock to the head had done some serious damage. With one arm, she rolled herself over onto her stomach. Pain spread like lightning; molten lava surged through her abdomen and set every nerve ending alight.

Her eyes were open now. Mind alert, heart pounding as adrenaline flooded her veins. Everything was sharper, clearer. The sun reflecting off the road made her squint but it gave her a target to crawl towards. There was just one problem: the door. She'd need to push it open, provided it weren't stuck.

"Goddamn it, woman, answer me!"

Wait. What was he doing here? No. No, she'd been alone. She'd driven out here so no one would find her, yet that voice… "Hobbs?"

"Jesus Christ. What the hell were you thinking?" Hands on metal. Metal scraping on road. The door screeching in her ears like a howling chihuahua. "You could've killed yourself!"

"Hobbs! She knows."

"Who?"

"I screwed up. I let her in the system."

"What're you talking about?"

His boots on the ground. Black, thick-soled steel-capped shit kickers. The man had good taste in footwear, she'd give him that much. Elizabeth pushed herself up once more, flopped onto her back. Anything to take the pressure off her stomach.

"Cipher. When Owen opened the port, I didn't think…"

"Cipher did this to you?"

"No!" His arm reached into the car. Elizabeth grabbed ahold of his wrist and held tight, let him slide her out one inch at a time. "Cipher knows. She's been listening. The truck isn't in Nevada, and…"

"And what?"

Chapter Text

"You'll need to—"

"Yeah, I understand, Doc," Elizabeth huffed. "No strenuous exercise. No sleep for the next twelve hours."

Elizabeth pressed her hands against her ribs and winced. By some miracle, she'd walked away without any obvious internal bleeding. The fractures would heal in their own time, so long as she didn't go picking fights with tall Polynesians or angry ex-soldiers.

"Thanks, Jay." Luke gave an appreciative nod as the corpsman packed his bag and exited the motel room. "I owe you."

"Get me a bottle of that tequila you like," he replied, "and we'll consider this one on the house."

"Sure thing." Hobbs chuckled, giving a thumbs up to the empty doorway. He'd crossed his fingers the ex-Marine wouldn't kick up too much of a fuss, and Luke had been right. A quick admittance of responsibility and some arm-twisting had Jay on his way inside of five minutes.

"So do I mark this down as conspiracy or coincidence?" asked Elizabeth, once Hobbs closed the front door. The lock clicked into place before Luke sat himself on the cushioned lounge chair and stared right at her. "I talk to Cipher, then suddenly I'm in an accident at your hands?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really." Even if Hobbs had intentionally struck her, the end result was the same. She was bedridden for two weeks, minimum. No arguments, no buts or maybes. Her body had taken a beating and it needed to heal. "Probably would've crashed into a tree if I hadn't hit you. You saved me the pain of completely ruining the car."

For the first time in a long time, she'd gotten distracted. Lost focus and let her thoughts stray from what was important.

"We're leaving tonight, so I can't babysit you. If you need something, use the radio," Hobbs said. He'd left her a handheld as a means of communication. Without it, Shaw would be completely cut off from the outside world.

Luke had seen the remains of her GPS and it wasn't pretty. There wasn't a chance in Hell she could repair the thing, nor Tej or anyone else. Her little scheme had run its course along with her equipment. "The comms guys will patch you through if necessary," he added.

"Does this mean I owe you?"

"No."

"Good."

"But it does mean no more bullshit," Luke said. "You're done, understand? You tried to go for Cipher's throat and you failed, so I don't want to hear a goddamn word about you breaking into any buildings or climbing on rooftops."

Done? She'd barely begun. Still, it was better to appease him now. There was no sense provoking Hobbs into stationing a guard outside her room, or cuffing her to the bed. "Fine," Beth grumbled. "It's not like I'll be doing much of anything once the bruises kick in."

"This isn't a joke, Shaw."

Wasn't it? The tall, muscular hero who'd so nobly dragged her out of the wreckage was a Fed. And she'd snuck into his room and slept next to him just the other night. Now Beth lay in her own bed, wearing only her sports bra and a loose pair of shorts, while Hobbs sat not five feet away.

Had Luke been anyone else, she might've tried for a sympathetic kiss on the cheek. Flirted a little and milked her injuries for all they were worth. Instead, Elizabeth wanted to kick him out of her room so she could go sit in the shower and mope like a bleeding idiot.

"I don't need a big brother lecture from you, y'know. Deckard and Owen are perfectly capable of giving one."

"Really? Because it seems to me, you do." Luke leaned forward, his fingers digging into the upholstery. "And since Mama Volkova isn't here to put her batinok up your—"

Thump.

A silver butter knife, sharpened to a point, impaled itself in the wall two feet to the left of his head. Luke glanced at it then returned his gaze to Elizabeth who now sat upright, glaring at him with another knife clenched in her right hand.

"Say that name again," Beth hissed, "and the next one goes in your chest."

Luke opened his mouth as if to speak but thought better of it, pressing his lips together instead. A lone tear welled in the corner of Beth's left eye but didn't fall. He'd struck a nerve. The nerve. It'd been stretched taut for more than twenty-five years, and Luke had just waltzed right up and strummed it like a guitar string.

"You pull a knife on me again, Shaw," Hobbs finally said, "and I'll do more than dislocate your thumb."

No one ever paid attention to the people behind the curtain. Or those who lingered on the outside, always looking in but never making the effort to reach across their self-enforced boundary. If Shaw had turned cutlery into weapons while he hadn't been looking, who knew what else she'd gotten up to.

It was possible Elizabeth had cooked up a bomb to take out the warehouse or any number of buildings. Tampered with Toretto's car even. He'd given her free rein with no oversight, and there'd been no one around to stop her from crossing whatever lines she pleased.

"Oh really?" Beth's voice turned cold and harsh when she said, "Too bad you won't see it coming."

Screw this. Screw him. She couldn't sit around on her arse and twiddle her thumbs all day, every day, for two weeks, no matter how many bruises she bore. There was work to be done, and Elizabeth needed to find a new means of communicating with Cipher.

...Although there were other ways of getting around the most recent complication in her life. Simpler solutions that didn't require drawing more attention to herself.

"Now if you wouldn't mind leaving," she said, bracing one arm against the wall as she struggled to get upright, "I'd like to take a shower."

That was the clearest out Shaw could offer him, and Luke intended to take it. He pushed off the chair and stood, making his way towards the door. Turning his back on her was a bad idea, but he wouldn't walk out like Shaw were the literal Queen.

"We'll be gone by ten o'clock tonight," Luke said, glancing back over his shoulder to see Elizabeth stripping off her shirt, "so if there's anyone you want to talk to, I suggest you do it soon."

This all felt oddly familiar when Letty thought about it, yet none of it seemed right. Han was gone, Mia's laughter couldn't be heard, and their beloved idiots, Leo and Santos, weren't sitting around, arguing in rapid Spanish.

"So this is it, huh?"

Letty glanced up from her car's engine only to meet the piercing gaze of Owen Shaw. Her half smile turned into a frown as she tossed a rag over her shoulder and stepped back, away from her former boss.

"Nothing's changed, has it?" Owen said. "You're the same woman you were when we worked together, and they still don't see that you're anything but the woman who used to race for slips and hijacked trucks to steal DVD players."

There was always a catch with him. Maybe it wasn't obvious at first, or ever. He always kept his cards close to his chest, passed himself off as a mild-mannered soldier, and maintained an air of chivalry. But once the mask came off, once the psychopath started tugging at its leash, he became more than the polite soldier who'd adopted an upper class accent just to fit in with the other bastards at officer school. "You need something, Shaw?"

"We were good together, you and I." He plucked the rag from her shoulders and used it to wipe the residual grease from his hands. "A well-oiled machine. Every part working in conjunction."

"Until you sent me outside that tank," Letty said, "and tried to kill me."

"I also could've killed you in Mexico, when I found you in that hospital. Both times you'd become a liability."

"You think I'm supposed to be grateful for that?" She was, in a small, non-plussed way. Grateful to be alive, at least, and not grateful that losing her memories, her past, meant she was somehow worthy to live. "I told you we shouldn't have taken the job."

Owen closed the gap between them and reached up, brushing a loose curl of hair behind her ear. There was no other way to put it: Letty was intoxicatingly beautiful, fiery and wrathful like Tisiphone herself. A true embodiment of a Furie. "I know. I should have listened to you. We wouldn't be in this position otherwise."

Him admitting she was right? "Well that's a new one. What do you want, Shaw?"

"Letty...I have a job opportunity. You could say there have been certain plans in motion since we arrived." Shaw rested one hand on her car and never let his gaze drift lower than her jaw. He wasn't going to disrespect Letty by pretending they were still the same people doing the same old things. "Now that we're close to finding Cipher, they're coming to fruition."

"What kind of plans?" Her questions were driven by curiosity, not a desire to feel the thrill of the chase. At least that's she told herself. Shaw's sister had been acting awfully friendly for a total stranger, but Letty had taken that as a flirtatious woman thing, not an attempt to lure her into some kind of scheme. "I'm not betraying Dom or the team. They're my family, you—"

He laid the rag over Letty's shoulder then reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a note. Given they were under surveillance, he wouldn't speak those words aloud without being certain he could erase them. Owen held it out to Letty and she promptly took it, unfolding it cautiously.

I'm taking Cipher's money, the piece of paper read. Every cent. Nod your head if you want in.

Letty's frown deepened. This was it? "You're an idiot," she said, slapping the note into his hand. "She'll kill you."

"Not if I get to her first."

So that's what this was. He was assembling his own team, except this one was to be comprised of two people: herself and him. Yeah, there wasn't a chance in Hell that Letty would allow herself to be sucked into his bullshit again. "You threw me away like I was fucking trash, Shaw. Discarded me the same way you did everyone else."

"But you're not like everyone else. You survived."

"'You make a mistake, you pay the price.' Those were your words. Well you made a huge goddamn mistake, so now you can pay for it."

Owen sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. The conversation wasn't going exactly how he'd hoped, but there'd been some progress made. For one thing, Letty hadn't stabbed, shot or punched him in the face. "I always liked you, Letty. Of everyone, you were the least inclined to lie."

For the love of God. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Was this Shaw's way of saying he was still hung up on her? Or that the whole thing was her fault even though she'd told him that Rhodes was bad news.

"Get out of my face before I knock you on your ass."

At that, he cracked a smile. Letty had certainly shown herself to be capable of doing so, and working with Klaus and himself had improved her skills greatly, but she wasn't quite as good as she thought herself to be. "I'd like to see you try."

"That can be arranged."

"Well," Owen turned to walk away, "when you figure out a time and a place, let me know."

"Owen!" Deckard's shout came from the hydraulic lift. "You seen the F2 around?"

"Not since last night." He gave Letty a slight wave and made his way towards the warehouse's north exit. What did Deckard want with Beth anyway? "What's going on?"

"Her and Hobbs are both AWOL."

"They're probably sleeping, or holed up somewhere, avoiding you."

Deckard scowled. "That's not funny."

"Or maybe they're sleeping together." With any luck, it was exactly where they'd be. Owen needed Hobbs out of the way, and his sister's pants were the perfect distraction. But without Hattie, the general process of getting Hobbs in them was taking longer than Owen liked. "Simultaneous avoidance of a pain in their arse."

"Really not funny."

Owen smiled. "Isn't it?"

"What's not funny?" Luke said, clapping Deckard on the shoulder. He'd parked his Gurkha, dents and all, around the east side of the warehouse, near the entrance that Toretto's alleged brother had used. At the very least, it was positioned at the top of a staircase Hobbs could ascend in five seconds flat.

"Nothing," Deckard muttered. Now that Hobbs was here, they could get down to business. There was still the matter of their late night visitor and his identity, or his general appearance "Any news on the intruder?"

"I'll tell you later."

Just like that, Hobbs was blowing him off without any of his usual charm. Back to business as usual then, it seemed. "Later?"

"I need to talk to Toretto first." So long as Dom kept his temper in check and didn't lie to his face, things would go smoothly. Dom's past and family wasn't any of his business, but for the purposes of the mission, Luke had no problem sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Especially when that 'family' could prove to be a threat to their team. "Confirm a few things."

"He's with O'Conner."

Well that made things incredibly easy. All he had to do was look for the only blonde on the team. Luke gave a nod of thanks and took off for the east end of the warehouse yet again. With any luck, he'd find them still together.

And he did. Luke spotted the pair milling around the Dodge, Dom with a wrench in hand and Brian looking the very image of a pretty boy FBI agent. "Toretto, we need to talk," he said. "In private."

"Can it wait?"

"No." Luke gestured to the metal stairs that led up to the entryway. "It can't."

"Well whatever you've got to say to me, " Dom set the wrench down on the car, "you can say in front of Brian."

"It's a family matter." Luke's tone said he wasn't messing around, and the look on his face said O'Conner had ten seconds to walk away before Luke dropkicked him to the other end of the warehouse. "Not a team matter. Unless you've already divulged all the skeletons in your closet, because right now, the last thing I need is for you to start lying to me, Toretto."

He'd always been honest with Hobbs from the beginning, except where it concerned Elena. It'd been her choice not to say anything and Dom had respected it. "Who's lying?"

"I need the truth." Luke took the stairs two at a time, Elizabeth's words still in the back of his mind. Cipher's listening. Slowly but surely, Dom followed him upstairs and outside, leaving Brian behind. Luke took up position next to his damaged Gurkha and leaned against it, waited till Dom slammed the heavy steel door shut before he spoke again. "Do you have a brother named Jakob?"

"No. You're a cop," Dom retorted, "you tell me. In every photo you've seen, has there ever been anyone but me and Mia?"

The answer was 'no', not that it helped any. "And you're sure your mom didn't have any other kids? Not even foster siblings?"

"Nah. She only ever wanted two kids and that's exactly what she got. Even afer they divorced, she still came to church every Sunday. Her and Dad were amicable till the end."

"Then who the hell is he?"

"I don't know, but he isn't family," Dom said. "Maybe Cipher sent him to kick the hornet's nest and see what happens, or could be she's poking holes in the boat and seeing where it leaks. How'd you find out his name anyway?"

"Doesn't matter." If Cipher were playing them, then Elizabeth's information could be false. Or-Or they were doing exactly what Cipher wanted by feeding Shaw bullshit and losing sight of the mission. Focusing on the details instead of the bigger picture. Tomorrow, and the day after that, their heads needed to be in the game if they were going to take the convoy on without losing anyone. "How's the team feeling?"

"How do you think they are?" Dom said. "No one thought they'd be back here. We were all ready to move on with our lives until Nobody showed up."

He'd been ready to move on too. One more push and Luke would've packed their things up, flown himself and Samantha to Australia or New Zealand before hopping a flight to Samoa. From there, he'd planned on showing his daughter all of Polynesia, including Palau and Tuvalu.

"Yeah," he sighed. Hobbs glanced down at his watch and his eyes widened in surprise. The day had passed by so quickly, he hadn't even thought about dinner. It seemed Toretto and the others hadn't either because no one was sitting around with a plate. They were all still working on their cars, finishing what they could. "It's almost go time."

"Almost.

You still coming with us, cop?"

"You kiddin' me?" Hobbs smirked. "I wouldn't miss the look on Cipher's face when we take that convoy for anything."

But there was still the matter of telling Dom about his 'discussion' with Elizabeth, and what she'd said about the mission. It'd have to wait until they were all on the move, when the entire team was gathered. No sense in tipping their hand now. The attack plan could easily be changed midair without it affecting the greater strategy.

The only complication remained her.

By leaving Shaw behind, he made the team even more vulnerable than they were. Her morals and ethics were dubious at best, and she'd already proven herself to still be capable of violence. Her presence contributed nothing that couldn't be gained by simply hiring someone to do the work in her stead too.

"That everything, Hobbs?"

"...No." Sooner or later, it would all come out. He hated to lean on Dom like this but Luke needed to know someone else had the team's ass covered. His ass. "What I tell you next stays between us. You don't tell Letty or Brian. Mr. Nobody doesn't so much as catch a whisper of this. The Shaws either."

"Sure."

"Elizabeth's working for, with, against, Cipher."

"You've known about it the whole time?"

"Yes."

Dom shrugged. It wasn't the shocked reaction Luke was expecting, but it was something. Perhaps he saw the situation as akin to his former one, sans the necessary blackmail.

"What does this mean, Hobbs?"

"We know the truck in Nevada is empty."

Chapter Text

"Does anyone not understand the situation?" Luke asked. The transport plane rumbled around them, shaking occasionally as it encountered turbulence. Getting their cars in there had meant a tight squeeze, but they'd managed it. "The plans we made, any ideas you have, get thrown out."

He'd scrawled the words 'drive onto the plane and stay there' on a whiteboard before giving the green light to Nobody's men. Two black SUVs had driven into the warehouse, 'collected' the team and left for the highway. With the decoy in place, and everyone bar them unaware of what was happening, the chase had officially begun.

As much as Luke disliked it, keeping the team in the dark had been for their own protection. It hadn't taken much discussion with Deckard either — outside, of course — for him to see that course of action was necessary.

"Get some sleep while you can," Hobbs added. Ramsey had God's Eye running already, searching for the truck. She had indeed narrowed its location down to a fifty mile radius, which unfortunately included a busy highway with plenty of generic white trucks on it, refrigerated or otherwise. "We hit the convoy the moment it's found."

"Night, Dom." Brian pushed his seat back and looked across at the black Dodge and red Corvette. "See you in the morning, Letty."

"Good night, Brian." Dom gave a nod in response before stepping out of his car and walking the two feet to Letty's. She sat in the driver's seat, clutching the wheel firmly with one hand, staring at the GPS installed on her dash. The screen was black, the device turned off. "Hey, babe."

"Hey," Letty said. She stifled a yawn and gestured for Dom to hop in. Tonight, the last thing she wanted was to be left alone with her thoughts. Or Owen's words going around and around the track in her head. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to see how you're doing. Everything okay?"

"Really, Dom?" Years ago, she might've tried knocking some sense into him for asking that. Did he think everything was fucking okay? There was a guillotine named Cipher hanging over their heads. A ghost lurking behind her named Owen Shaw. "Aren't you getting a little tired of asking me that question every time something happens?"

"Sorry."

"Nah." Letty sighed and scrubbed her hands through her short hair. "I'm just tired." Or maybe hormonal was a better term. "But why don't you come here and give me a kiss?"

"You know I love you," Dom said. He popped open the passenger side door and slid in. "I always will."

"I know, Papi." She leaned across the center console, kissing him chastely on the lips. "But you're gonna have to expand that love a little."

There was never going to be a perfect time to tell Dom, or a right time, but he needed to know. She needed him to.

"What're you talking about, Letty?"

"Before I tell you, swear that you'll keep your voice down."

"I will. What's going on?"

"…I think I'm pregnant. I haven't had a chance to buy a test but I'm two months late, at least."

The look on his face sad it all: he had so much love to give that expanding it was a non-issue. He looked down at her stomach then back at her, eyes widening in surprise. "Pregnant?"

"Maybe. But until I know for sure—"

Dom kissed her, silencing her while his hands cupped her face. "Whatever happens, I've got you. You and our baby."

"Dom." Letty pulled away, stopping him in his tracks. Another mention of the B word and she'd knock him on his ass. "This can't change anything. I'm still on this mission with you and the team. I'm not stepping away or going into hiding."

If he'd looked her in the eye and said 'I'd never ask you to do that', she might have punched him. Letty wasn't about to sit back and allow him to lie to her face yet again.

Instead, he said, "Alright."

"I'm gonna see if one of the medics can't get me a test when we land," Letty said. It'd felt a little weird when she considered asking the medics on base, and she'd refused Elizabeth's offer to leave rather than taking it. Fuck, why hadn't she said yes and jumped in that car? A two hour drive might've solved all her problems. "But so far I'm not craving peanut butter and jalapeños, which means it isn't twins."

His hand clapped over his mouth as Dom chuckled. That had to have been her grandmother's fixation. Letty didn't talk to her Auntie much anymore, not since she'd moved away from Los Angeles, but even he knew the story of the terrible Ortiz sisters. Hell, everyone and their cousins knew it.

"I just didn't think—" Dom looked Letty up and down. "When we talked on Cipher's plane…This is what that was about?"

She nodded. There'd been no easy way to come out with it. God knew she was more than a little scared about having a human being potentially growing inside her. Up until she'd come home and found out Mia'd been pregnant, until she learned Mia was pregnant again, babies weren't a thing for Letty. Period.

Letty's family had always been the people who surrounded her, so there was no reason to expand or change that. Nor any to think that pregnancy was in the cards to begin with since she and Dom had always agreed on the use of contraceptives.

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow," she said awkwardly. As much as she didn't want to be alone with her thoughts, it turned out Letty didn't want to be around Dom's either. "Uh, I'm gonna get some sleep. You should too."

"Sure." Dom climbed out of Letty's Corvette and closed the door. "See you in the morning?"

"Uh-huh." It'd gone better than she thought it would, but Letty had a feeling his words were going to haunt her. A baby? She didn't even know if the pregnancy was real, and any test could easily come up with a false positive. Until her stomach swelled and tiny feet kicked the shit out of her ribs, there was no reason to get their hopes up. "Night, Dom."

"Bye, Letty."

The moment he walked away, her world returned to being silent. Ramsey was already asleep, Elizabeth wasn't here, and Mia…Mia was hiding. Protecting her children. Stuck on the sidelines, unable to do anything while she anxiously awaited the return of her husband and brother.

Jesus, was that the kind of future that awaited her?

Not that it mattered if they didn't make it out of this alive, and they had to. Marcus needed them.

Letty glanced out at the rest of the team, making sure no one was paying attention to her, then lifted the receiver of her radio and depressed the transmit button. "Uh, hi, this is Ortiz." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Can you patch me through to Base Alpha?"

"No can do, ma'am. They're on lockdown now."

Shit. Not even an hour after they'd left? Did something happen after the plane took off? "Mind if I ask why?"

"A vehicle was found abandoned. Visibly damaged and laying on its roof."

"Whose car?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, ma'am."

Letty scoffed and shoved the receiver into its holder. This wasn't some super secret clubhouse or the Pentagon. Someone could've been injured or worse, and he refused to tell her? Surely Hobbs might know more, but any and all questions would have to wait until morning.

Until she wasn't so tired that she couldn't kick his ass as well.

Rolling over in her seat, Letty shoved her jacket under her head, pushed her seat back and got as comfortable as she could. She half-closed her eyes, allowing the familiar rumble of a transport plane to lull her towards sleep. It wasn't quite the same as having her own bedroom onboard the Antonov, but at least she was in her own car.

Safe. Secure. Surrounded by her family.

And stuck on a plane with her on again, off again, does this even mean anything, ex-boss.

"Fuck off," Letty groaned before he could so much as tap on her window. "If it's not life or death, it can wait until morning, unless you want me to throw you off this plane."

"Can we talk?"

"No."

"A hundred million dollars, Letty. Just think of it. You could buy the track you've always wanted." It sounded good. Like all his other promises had, but none of them ever came to fruition. Owen Shaw was little more than a snake oil salesman in disguise. "As many cars and bikes as you could build. Refurbish that old shop and run a garage with your husband again."

"Shaw, there hasn't been an us since you threw that photo on the table and shoved the past in my face," Letty snapped. He hadn't pulled her aside or told her about the files beforehand. Instead, he'd embarrassed her. Interrogated her in front of the entire team while Vegh looked at her like she was the real enemy. "I'm not helping you do anything, so walk your ass back to your car before I do something I won't regret."

It was like being grounded, only this time she was an adult. Elizabeth winced as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her upper body, flinching with every breath she took. Her ribs ached, her chest throbbed — even her ass felt like it'd been repeatedly pummeled.

There wasn't a chance in hell she could keep this up for two weeks without going insane. Forty-eight hours, maybe, but not three hundred. Sitting in her cell in Gitmo had been hard enough knowing that the chance she'd ever leave was slim.

"So what now?" she muttered to herself. Things weren't always what they seemed. Surely there had to be an upside to this; some kind of benefit perhaps. In the very least, she had plenty of time to hit the gym and start getting her strength back. The medic had said no strenuous exercise, but surely lifting dumbbells didn't count. Or soldering. That was something she could do…not that there was anything to solder. "Sudoku? Watch some TV that I can't access?"

With the departure of Toretto and his team, her job was done. They had their equipment, or what she'd put together anyway. The rest of it could be completed by any machinist with half a brain. That meant they had no further use for her. No need of her presence.

Was it any wonder why she was now bedridden and stuck in her room? Whether or not Hobbs wanted to admit it, his "accident" involved awfully convenient timing.

Not that it mattered. Cipher had seemingly known for days what they were doing.

"You know, I wasn't going to say anything but I figured if I didn't, you'd probably stab me with one of these." His feet dangled over the edge of the bed, ankles crossed, and the small collection of knives she'd stashed next to the mattress was now displayed on top of it. "By the way, I saw what you did to your car. Honestly, it's not even that bad. You'll have to smooth out the dents but she runs fine."

"I'm—"

"Relax. My eyes are closed. Check for yourself."

Shit! Elizabeth snatched up her shirt from the back of the dining chair and hurriedly pulled it on before adjusting her towel to cover the lower half of her body. How the hell had he broken in? And when? She hadn't heard a single noise. "You're an arsehole."

Up close, he was slightly more attractive than she'd expected. Dark brown hair, strong jaw; though he certainly seemed to be compensating for something in the muscle department. Elizabeth wouldn't so much as touch him with a ten foot pole, but Jakob wasn't wholly unpleasant to look at.

He gave a charming schoolboy grin. "In fairness, I knocked twice, but I don't think you heard me over the dulcet tones of you singing Kukushka."

There was nothing wrong with a little Viktor Tsoi every now and again, nor some private karaoke in the confines of one's own shower. "You know," Elizabeth said, "in civilised countries, breaking into a woman's room at—" she looked at the clock on her drawer "—half past one in the morning would be considered illegal. Generally punishable by her repeatedly beating the intruder over the head with an alarm clock or lamp until he flees."

"Oh, so when you do it, it's fine, but when I do it, then it's a problem?"

Toretto had seen her break into Hobbs' room next door? Crap. If he knew about it, then Cipher might too. The last thing Beth needed was her loyalties being questioned. "In a manner of speaking? Yes."

"Gotcha. Well, I left the keys to your car on your table." Jakob sat up, planting his hands on the mattress to brace himself. He opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of bare stomach as Shaw tugged on a loose pair of pants. "Mysteriously, someone also towed it here to the parking lot, so you're welcome."

"…Thank you." There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in her voice, only genuine appreciation. Being unable to traverse outside her room, or even to the warehouse, would've driven her mad quicker than Owen could drop his 'polite English boy' facade.

"Just don't crash it again," he admonished.

"I don't intend to." Surprisingly, the injuries didn't hurt as much as she thought they would. Or rather, she'd gotten lucky by being inside an armoured car and not a piece of junk that would've crumpled like a tin can. If it'd been the Zhiguli she'd driven to the meeting, there was no question that Elizabeth would've found herself face to face with Death a lot sooner than she expected. "The pain's unpleasant, to say the least."

"It's gonna be worse in the morning." He swung his body around and stood, leaving Elizabeth's knife collection on the bed. There were better ones where he came from. Ones that didn't look like they'd been handcrafted from kitchen utensils. "Assuming you want to stay."

If she wanted to…"What?"

"Sorry, did I forget to mention there's a plane coming?" Jakob said. Before any jets could be scrambled from the nearest Air Force base, a whole lot of red tape needed to be dealt with. Then there was the ensuing shit storm as the top brass realized their top secret military installation had been compromised. All of that gave Cipher time to get in and out before anyone could lift a finger. "ETA: fifteen minutes."

Had he just handed her a Get out of Jail Free card, or could it all be some kind of trap to see where her loyalty lay? Whichever it was, elaborate scheme or otherwise, she now had an option. Two, in fact. And they both seemed considerably better than remaining in her room.

"What's the catch?"

"There isn't any."

That sounded doubtful. There was always a hitch, or a buried clause, when it came to working with her. But expectations beget expectations, and the work someone did was always paid in full. "How do I know this isn't a set-up? You could just as easily be one of Nobody's men."

"When I was eighteen, we had a huge fight," Jakob said. "Dad had just died and I lashed out. So Dom made me an offer: I could drive away and never come back, or I could go to Lompoc."

"And you drove away."

"Yep. I got thrown out by the only family I knew, so I joined the Corps and found a new one. Two tours later, I walked away and fell in with a private security company."

"From there, you discovered…what," Elizabeth said, "that you're a stereotypical Toretto who's good at stealing things and driving cars?"

"Actually, I'm exceedingly good at stealing things and driving cars, and being very very bad."

Cipher had to have fed him that line. There was no other possible way he'd be quoting herself back to her, albeit with one tiny modification of an adjective. Still, trust but verify. "That's nice, but it doesn't prove a thing."

"Cipher has a birthmark shaped like an apple on her right leg."

"Okay then." His authenticity was now one hundred percent confirmed. She'd always thought it was more like a wonky peach but generically fruit-shaped marks were exactly that. "So are we taking both cars or just yours?"

"See, the problem with HALO drops is you can't bring a car with you. We're taking yours."

Well that changed things. If Cipher was doing a rolling pickup, she'd have to maintain close to takeoff speed for a quick exit, so the F2 and Zhiguli were out of the question. That left the B2. The only car that scared the hell out of her.

"Shit. Um, you start the car and I'll finish getting dressed and grab my things." She needed underwear, a jacket, pyjamas even. Enough clothes for at least four or five days. Who knew

how long she'd be onboard for? Assuming they even made it up the ramp. "That thing isn't fast enough for a fly-by though."

"What else is there?"

"Supercar. It's sitting in the warehouse. We just need to pick it up."

"Mid-engine? Rear? Six or eight cylinders? Litres?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth said. It was less about the quality of the car and more so the aesthetic. The B2 just happened to be one of the cheaper, slightly better looking supercars, that she'd seen on the market. Then in a sarcastic yet condescending tone, like a twisted Mary Poppins parody, she added, "But I hear, when you turn it on and press the accelerator, it makes a vroom vroom sound."

"You're an asshole," Jakob said, with a shit-eating grin on his face. He snatched up the keys to the SUV from the table and pocketed them. "Alright. You've got five minutes, Shaw."

Five? She couldn't bend over without feeling immense pain. How the hell was she meant to—"Fuck it," Beth muttered. There was no sense trying to overexert herself for things that could be replaced. "Just get dressed, grab your gear and go."

"Four minutes and forty-seven seconds."

If he kept counting, she was finally going to end up in prison for genuine murder, not self-defense. Surviving five minutes with him seemed impossible, let alone an hour. On the other hand, who was to say they'd spend any time together at all barring tonight? Elizabeth shoved the bathroom door shut, found her underwear and hurriedly got dressed before her body gave out.

"Hey Shaw, how certain are you the SUV isn't fast enough?"

"99%, maybe. Why?"

"She's a little ahead of schedule, so we're going to need to leave. Now."

There was also the matter of two patrol cars headed their way, for reasons unbeknownst to him. It was possible he'd tripped a silent alarm, but there was no way to know for sure.

"Alright! I'm coming."

"One percent will have to do," Jakob muttered. He walked out of the motel room, climbed into the F2 and started it up, relishing the audible growl of its engine. By the time they reached the warehouse and switched cars, they'd likely miss their window for pickup. Fortunately, this thing looked like it'd been designed to punch through fences and keep on rolling. "Look, I know this thing kicked your ass today, but is there any chance you can—"

"I heard you the first time." Elizabeth hefted a small cardboard box into the car and wedged it in the foot well. "Just needed to grab this."

"Good. Because we're about to have company."

She hauled herself up into the Marussia and shut the door, strapping herself in seconds before Jakob floored it. The SUV burst forward without headlights, the interior in complete darkness save for the dim green glow of the dash. Gravel scattered beneath the tyres as they took the corner, sliding across the road before straightening out.

"I take it that's company." Two sets of headlights came from both east and west, drawing nearer with every second. Elizabeth couldn't make out the shape of the cars, but the red lights that lined their sides gave her an idea of their size. "Toretto, take the first left! There's a park at the end of the street. You'll be able to cut through there to go south."

"If you say so."

"How long do we have?"

Another sharp turn had her almost leaning up against him. She grabbed ahold of the roof handle and held tight, bracing her other hand against his seat.

"A couple minutes," Jakob said. "Maybe less."

In that case, they definitely needed this shortcut; and unless the trees had suddenly moved, there was an eight, maybe nine foot gap between them. Just wide enough to fit the Marussia through.

"On the count of four, start turning right. There'll be one tree on your immediate left and one right ahead in the middle of the—"

The entire car jolted as it mounted the kerb, rattling them both. Visibility was slim to none with a new moon — tinted windows didn't help either — but the rare streetlight allowed them to see vague shapes. She couldn't make out the look on his face but Beth imagined his brows were pinched together in concentration, and those eyes of his fixed on what was in front of them.

"This place is a goddamn obstacle course." Past a wooden railing marking the edge of the park, Jakob drove forward, the line of trees to either side of the car going unnoticed. Four, she'd said. It was almost—"Shit!"

He wrenched the wheel to one side, forcing the tyres right. The rear bumper of the Marussia scraped against a large deciduous tree, bare of its leaves and planted exactly in the middle of the park. The car bounced over its roots, lifting and tilting as it went.

Headlights lit up the ground behind and ahead of them. One of the patrol cars forced its way into the park, another was coming straight towards them. Behind it, two more pairs of headlights were becoming visible.

"You wouldn't happen to have any magic tricks in that box of yours, would you?"

"No." Something better, in fact. She'd been hoping to test it out on Cipher's convoy, but this was as good a time as any. "How good is your throwing arm?"

"Kinda occupied."

"Elizabeth Shaw, pull over!" A voice came from somewhere behind them. "Whatever she's got on you, we can help."

"Well I'm not…" Apparently, she was. Toretto needed his hands free, and there was no one else to do it. Beth swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and reached down into the cardboard box. She lifted out a metal cylinder, no larger than the palm of her hand, and started winding down the window. "I need you to rotate this thing. Complete 180."

Headlights were coming from every which way. Other cars had joined the chase, and if she didn't do this now then they were both going to prison. Right then, Elizabeth didn't fancy finding herself in yet another cell.

"Alright. Hold onto something."

Maybe it was just the adrenaline that came with the pounding of her heart, but any and all nausea had been suppressed. Instead, there was only terror and excitement. An uneasy mix of the two that made butterflies fill her stomach as Jakob put the car into a spin. Dust flew out from beneath the tyres while they turned to face north, giving her the perfect position to aim from.

"Whatever you're doing," Toretto said, now driving in reverse, "do it quickly."

"I need to set it first!" They needed at least a ten second delay to put space between it and them. When and if the EMP went off, it'd take out everything within a hundred yards. "Just give me a—"

"Now!" In the distance, he could see red lights flicker in the sky momentarily before they were shut off. Cipher's plane was nearing, and they were going to miss their only chance at a rendezvous if Shaw didn't throw her toy out the window. "Do it, Shaw!"

Elizabeth unclipped her seatbelt and thrust the upper half of her body out through the open window. She twisted the cylinder once, priming it, then hurled it north, towards the patrol cars that were rapidly closing the distance between them.

"Floor it!"

Ten seconds became nine, then eight. Whatever happened, Elizabeth didn't want to be around when the device went off, nor when Nobody's men caught up to them.

Five.

So this was what it felt like to be her brothers. To literally have the wind in her hair, battering her face as she leaned out of a speeding vehicle. The SUV's vibrations hummed through Elizabeth's body while her hands trembled with each wave of adrenaline that flooded her veins like electricity surging through a circuit.

Three. Two.

Jakob thrust his arm across the passenger seat and grabbed the hem of Shaw's pants, securing his grip just as a bright flash of light suddenly burst forth from the road. The patrol cars that neared it suddenly flipped forward, rear tyres lifting high into the air.

Thrown by the sudden loss of everything, they careened out of control, colliding with each other in an uncontrollable heap. Although he couldn't see the wave of energy, there was no doubt it was chasing them too. Rolling forward and taking out any and all electronics in its path.

The patrol cars that hadn't stopped in time slammed into those affected by the pulse. Some smashed straight into the pile of useless vehicles, others managed to divert around them.

"Where's the exit?" He pulled her inside and hit the button to shut the window. "Shaw, we're not in the clear yet!"

"It's a straight shot south from here," Elizabeth stammered out. Her heart was racing now, beating wildly in her chest. No sprint could ever make her feel like this, she thought. Nothing could, in fact. "Then another minute east before you hit the highway."

At the speed they were going — what was it anyway? — it couldn't take more than two minutes to reach the fence line. She tugged her seatbelt back on and struggled with the clip before Jakob's hand closed on hers and he pushed it into place.

"God, you should see the look on your face," he laughed. She was wide-eyed and doe-eyed at the same time, like a girl who'd just discovered there were things outside Daddy's rules and Sunday church. "I take it you've never driven at a hundred and eighty kays before."

"I've never really driven over ninety-five, or leaned out of a moving vehicle."

"Jesus H. Christ. What do you do for fun then?"

"Abseiling. Running. One night stands. Parkour, sometimes. Or I get locked up in prison."

A straight shot was right, and the wire fence gave way immediately as the Marussia's rear end collided with it. Still in reverse, Jakob turned the Marussia around the moment they hit dirt road. Again he could see the red wing lights in the sky as Cipher's plane began its descent.

"There she is," Elizabeth murmured. Glancing over her shoulder to see it, she noticed two more patrol cars on their tail. "Oh, great. I'm pretty sure we've still got company."

A flash of light came from the sky. Seconds later, the first ATV careened wildly out of control with a large hole where the engine should've been, and took the second car with it.

"Cannon in the tail," Jakob explained. "She's flying a sweet little Chinese number now."

"Okay then…"

"You ready, Shaw?"

"What?"

"Take the wheel."

"No. No, no, no. I just crashed this thing today, okay? I am not getting behind the wheel at almost two hundred per hour."

"Tomorrow then."

"How about never?"

Jakob laughed and watched as the highly-modified Yunshuji-8 rapidly descended once the Marussia had reached the highway. Its tyres hit the asphalt, wings stretching over either side of the road, just as the ramp began to lower down.

"I guess I should say it's been a pleasure," Jakob said, "but there's plenty more where that came from. Provided you're interested in more than abseiling and one night stands."

"Yeah, I think I'm good." Her stomach lurched as the Marussia's tyres hit the lip of the ramp and the car began its ascension. "I prefer being alive to whatever the hell we just did."

They slowed upon entering the plane's belly while a barrier rose up behind the Marussia, trapping it. Moments later, the ramp lifted and thudded into place, closing off the outside world. Rapidly, the plane picked up speed again, lifting into the air inside of three minutes.

Once it climbed to cruising altitude and levelled off, Elizabeth stepped out of the Marussia. "So, which way to the bathroom? Because I—"

"Really need to pee," Cipher said, filling in the rest. She walked into the loading bay, wearing a Black Sabbath tank top and skinny jeans. "Hello, Elle."

"…Hi." She lifted her right hand and gave an awkward wave. God, it was like stepping into a Dickens novel, except instead of the ghosts of Christmas haunting her, it was Cipher. Truthfully she'd never expected to be back here, yet there she stood, sandwiched between Dom's brother and Dom's enemy.

"You can go, Jakob," Cipher added dismissively. "Elizabeth and I need to talk."

"You know where to find me," he said, stepping around them and walking through the open bay doors. "Don't let her boss you around too much, Shaw."

Once he was gone, Cipher closed the distance between them and looked Beth up and down. "You look like shit."

"It's nice to see you too."

"C'mon." Cipher slung her arm gently around Elizabeth's shoulders. "I'll make you some tea."

Chapter Text

"Man, I can't," Letty groaned, resting her head against the cubicle's side wall. She bounced her foot repeatedly and tapped her leg with the cardboard box. Anything to keep her mind off what was inside said box. "How about you pee on it for me, Ramsey?"

"I would if I could." The addendum of 'but I'm not the one who's possibly pregnant' went unspoken. "They still won't patch me through, although getting an answer out of Hobbs is like..."

"Getting Roman to shut up?"

Ramsey chuckled and nodded. Arms braced on the metal sink behind her, she sighed and looked up from the floor. "This is not how I imagined things would happen, you know."

Tell me about it, Letty thought. She'd hoped to be home already. Laughing and chasing Marcus around. Eating waffles and sitting back as Elena made coffee. Swapping stories with Mia. Instead, their family had been forced apart.

Wearily, she stood up off the toilet, unlocked the door and shoved the test in her pocket. Delaying it until later wouldn't harm anyone, but neither would the sinking feeling in Letty's stomach go away just because she had an answer.

"Alright," said Letty. "Let's do this thing. You ready, Ramsey?"

"No."

If there was one thing about Ramsey that Letty liked more than anything else, it was her honesty. Ramsey called it how she saw it and didn't pull a single punch. Right now, that knowledge was the only thing keeping her going. And the feeling of there being someone she could talk to about the shit Letty normally only broached with Mia and Elena.

"Letty, I don't mean to rush you," Hobbs shouted, "but we need to go. They're at the forty mile marker."

They'd left their cars parked onboard the plane for this exact reason. Why unload them when a moment's notice was all they had? Luke adjusted the straps of his flak vest, checked his revolver was loaded once again, and walked towards the open hangar doors.

"Nervous?" Deckard asked, falling into line with Luke. Walking parallel to the Fed, he adjusted the collar of his kevlar jacket. Strapped to his right thigh was the pistol he'd brought; to his left, a combat knife. "Or are you worried someone's going to get hurt?"

"Someone already has been."

"Who?"

Luke glanced over his shoulder. No sign of Owen, Letty or Dom. Good. The last thing he needed was one of them learning that something was going on. "Your sister went rogue," he said. "Killed two people last night. Put three more in the ICU."

"Hattie?" If she'd killed someone, then there was a pretty good reason for it.

"The other one."

Deckard paused mid-step, pivoting on his feet to look directly at Hobbs. "Elle doesn't kill people."

"Her criminal record says otherwise."

"If you're done gossiping," Owen said as he passed the pair, "we've got a terrorist to catch."

"He's right." Letty couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth, but Owen spoke the truth. Carrying Ramsey's laptop, she rushed towards the transport plane that awaited them. "You coming or what?"

The team loaded themselves and their gear inside of ten minutes. As the pilots ran through the checklist, Deckard found himself standing at the base of the ramp, staring into space. Hands tucked into his pockets, he listened to the plane's engines hum, and a set of footsteps thudding behind him.

"Hobbs says the truck's empty."

"You really believe that?" Deckard said. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Dom's gaze for a moment before returning his attention to the afternoon sky. "Yeah, me neither."

"Look, I don't know what you did as a soldier," Dom said, "but if this goes bad, don't let Cipher walk away."

"She won't. We've still got unfinished business."

"So do we." Brian descended the ramp, coming to stand beside Dom. "Helping us doesn't erase the past."

"I made my choice, O'Conner. You made yours. We each have to live with the consequences."

The ramp lifted beneath them with a clunk. It was time to go, it seemed. Deckard turned around and returned to his car without another word, giving Owen the smallest of nods as they passed each other. His brother returned it with a calculating smile.

"Alright, listen up!" Luke said once the team was assembled in front of him. "Our window of opportunity is closing rapidly, so let's do this."

"They're well armed," added Little Nobody, "and we don't know what's beyond the mountains. This could be one big ambush."

"That's what we're relying on." Brian looked around at Dom, Little Nobody, Roman and Tej. Ramsey stood next to Tej's car, focused on her open laptop. Letty, on the other hand, had inched her way towards the smug English asshole with his ramp car. "I'm thinking if we can crowd around the truck, block them from accessing it, they won't be able to stop us."

"Except for whoever's onboard," said Roman. "You don't leave something like that unprotected, right? She's gotta have a couple dudes in there waiting for us."

"Or maybe it's empty," Luke said. "Whether it's loaded, a decoy, whatever, we've got sixty miles of road on which to find out."

"Letty, you good?" Dom called out. He'd been unable to make out what she was saying to Owen, but outright interrogating his own wife would be a step in the wrong direction. God knew it had nothing to do with his trust in Letty, yet that was probably how she'd take it.

"I'm fine." She waved from where she leaned against the ramp car's roll cage, staring at Owen. There was something about his demeanor that made her want to strangle him or worse. He acted so casual, like nothing had changed in the past few years. "So you understand what I'm saying?"

"No, I don't," said Owen, looking up at her. "There's no 'us versus them' anymore. We'll do whatever's necessary to survive. I expect you'll do the same. We're a team, aren't we?"

Coming from him, those words meant nothing. There would always be an 'us' and a 'them' for Owen Shaw. After all, he wasn't exactly the kind of guy who let bygones be bygones. "Just stay on my ass and wait for a signal."

Jakob groaned as he walked, stretching his arms and working the kinks from his shoulders. Despite the overall comfort of his bed, the size left something to be desired. He'd rolled off it twice last night, hitting the ground with a thump. Once, Jakob had even woken to loud arguments coming from the corridor.

In stark contrast to the sleeping quarters, the cargo bay was silent, save for the faint scratching of pencil on paper. All of Jakob's tools were exactly where he'd left them. Nothing had been disturbed, touched or otherwise moved, bar whatever had been taking up space on the workbench.

He approached the hunched figure of Elizabeth — head in her hand and dark hair tied up in a bun, earmuffs on to block out the loud rumble of the engines — and planted his hands on the bench either side of her own. Jakob loomed over her, casting a shadow across the paper, and waited.

It didn't take long for her to notice he was there.

"What do you want?" Elizabeth slid one earpiece back just enough to hear him. "And don't start whinging about me not being in bed. This is more comfortable."

"I thought the doc prescribed you meds."

"He tried." And failed. "I told him to keep them. He'd need them if he kept pushing the issue, as will you."

Well, that was more or less what'd happened, albeit she'd been polite about it. The pain was manageable, and despite the discomfort it caused her, she didn't feel a need to dull it further. Or put herself on a one way path to an opioid addiction.

"Has anyone told you how lovely your disposition is?"

Carefully, she tilted her head back to look up at Jakob, meeting his gaze. It wasn't hard to read between the lines with a guy like him. At least that was how things usually unfolded. People like Jakob Toretto — or her siblings — didn't dish out compliments without provocation. "You have five seconds to tell me what you want."

"Yes, ma'am. Theoretically speaking, what's the smallest bomb you could build?" Jakob forced a smile as if to assuage her suspicion. The scepticism in Elizabeth's eyes said she wasn't buying it. "Again, we're talking wholly theoretical."

"Small enough."

Something close to the size of a grenade was difficult to build without the right equipment, but not totally impossible. Truthfully, it all depended on whether the explosive material itself was a solid or liquid. Each bomb had to be designed from scratch, the pieces given their own space - one couldn't just cram things in and hope for the best. Not that this place was sterile or stable enough for manufacturing such things anyway.

"But before you ask me to do something, I would think extremely carefully about who you want to use it against," Elizabeth said. Her accent shifted as she spoke, effecting a soft Russian lilt. "Because if you do what Dom did and put my brothers in the hospital, I will put you in the ground. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." The harsh look Shaw gave him was at odds with the fluffy lavender bathrobe she wore, but it didn't lessen the seriousness of the voiced threat. "You want something to eat? Galley's open."

"Just had breakfast," Elizabeth gestured to an empty foil container shoved behind a sheaf of paper, "but thanks."

"Alright," Jakob said, and moved as if to step away. "Buzz me if you hear anything about Dom."

"...Bzzz."

He planted his feet and cocked his head to the side, hands coming to rest on his hips. "What?"

"Nothing. I was just testing the system."

"Oh? Is that all you were—"

The entire plane suddenly tilted at a downward angle, beginning a rapid decline in altitude. Their cars, Marussia and Mustang parked in tandem, strained against the chains and straps that held them in place. The stool Elizabeth was sitting on slid out from under her, sending her toppling to the floor. She thrust her arm out and hooked it around the workbench's front right leg while Jakob grunted, thrown completely off his feet. Elizabeth reached out and managed to catch his left wrist when Jakob landed flat on his stomach.

Carefully, he leveraged himself closer to the workbench and out of range of his own car. Any moment the rigging on either vehicle could fail, then they'd both become freshly made human hamburgers. "Hold on!"

"This is exactly why I don't like flying." Elizabeth's voice cracked when she spoke. "Everything's fine until an engine fails and suddenly you're falling out of the sky."

"Actually, I think we're in a controlled dive," he groaned. The angle wasn't steep enough to suggest engine failure. Neither had they begun titling from one side to the other or spinning wildly. "But usually you get a little more warning. The pilots don't just throw the yoke forward like that."

"Jakob," Cipher's voice came over the P.A system, reaching every corner of the plane, "you've got one job to do."

That explained the suddenness of it all.

"Does she mean what I think she means?" She glanced down at Jakob, still desperately grasping his wrist. At the very least, if Beth fell again, he'd be the equivalent of a human anchor. "Oh you've got to be kidding me."

"In about forty seconds, we'll level out." Even if his math were off, the difference was negligible. "Then I need you to help me release the car, because the moment that ramp drops, I'm gone."

"God," Elizabeth groaned. Her earmuffs had fallen off and now sat cracked under the bench. She rested her head against her right shoulder, eyes closed and fingers crossed. Two thirds of a minute seemed like a long time when your body was equivalent to a tennis ball being thrown towards the ground. "Why did I agree to this?"

He pressed his feet against a metal shelving unit, bracing himself as he reached up with his free hand. The quicker they both got up, the better. Jakob didn't want to be in the path of anything when what'd been thrown down tried returning to its former position. "Plant your feet and get ready."

"Gonna need a minute."

"We don't have one," said Jakob.

After releasing Beth's wrist, he pulled himself free of her grasp and crawled closer. The plane's angle had lessened as they neared 500 feet, allowing Jakob to get on his knees. He wrapped one arm around Shaw's shoulders, gripped the workbench with his other hand, and lifted them both off of the ground.

"If all you wanted was a hug, Toretto," she muttered, straightening herself out, "there are easier ways to get one."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Jakob planted one foot in front of the other, making his way to the Mustang. Once Elizabeth caught up, he began releasing the chains while she dealt with the straps. "Assuming you're still here."

She rolled the first one up, securing it under the opposite ratchet winch, and moved onto the next. "Are you insinuating something?"

"No." But the fact was, Shaws and planes didn't go together. He couldn't blame her if she decided to put her feet on the ground given the opportunity. The links rattled as he unwound each chain and drew it out from beneath the car, hefting it aside. "You done?"

"One second." The third strap was caught up in itself or twisted. No matter how many times she worked the winch, it wouldn't come loose. Elizabeth pushed the handle back and forth, tugged on the strap, all to no avail. "Shit. This thing's stuck. Give me a hand?"

"Sure." Jakob came to stand next to her. He gripped the lengthy strap with both hands and braced one boot against the ratchet. Carefully, he pulled, till a folded section of fabric popped out. "Okay. Try it now."

Wary of how taut it was, Elizabeth took her time adjusting the winch till the slack was noticeable. She slid the strap free only to toss it over the car. "Thanks."

He nodded and turned on his radio. "We're good to go."

"Alright. Five seconds to drop," Cipher replied over the P.A system. "Elizabeth, meet me in the comms room."

The ramp began to descend, creaking as it went; hot air gusted in and buffeted them both. Less than one hundred feet below, the ground rushed past in a black blur. With each second, it grew closer, till the plane almost skimmed it.

"Go on," Jakob gestured at the corridor, "I'll see you when I get back."

Beth waved her hand in reply while he popped the door of his Mustang open and slid in. The engine rumbled to life a moment later, and she watched as the car rolled towards then down the ramp.

The moment Jakob was out of sight, Elizabeth rushed for her Marussia and the box in the foot well. She tugged the rear door open, clambering in and over the seats. Her head bumped the roof as she went, till Beth reached what she needed. Stretching over the centre console, she lifted the box up onto the passenger seat and pulled the radio out.

Assuming they hadn't changed frequency, assuming they were even in the vicinity, she'd have a few moments before the ramp closed. Elizabeth turned it on, lowered the volume and depressed the transmit button. "I know you're there," she spoke in Russian. "Answer me, jeva."

"...That you?" Letty answered, adopting the language as well. Her tone was distant, like she were wary of this being real.

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"It doesn't matter," said Elizabeth. The gears began to turn, and with them, the ramp rose. "You need to leave."

"Answer the question."

"Do what I say and I will."

"...Yo, you guys hearing this?" Roman interrupted. "Did someone hijack the frequency? Who's talking?"

"No, screw you. You don't get to show up only when it's convenient. Anyway, it's too late. We found the—"

Letty's voice became static when the ramp thudded into place, plunging the cargo bay into silence once more. Elizabeth sighed, turned the radio off and tossed it beneath the passenger seat. At the very least, the message had been delivered. Now she could only hope Letty listened to it.

Cautiously, Beth climbed out of the Marussia and made her way to the plane's comms hub. Everything was smaller in contrast to the last one, although the bank of monitors bolted to the side wall did the job. And the four computer geeks on the left paid little attention to Elizabeth, even when she said, "You summoned me?"

"Have a seat," said Cipher. The loose bootcut jeans and faded tank top she wore suited her. The short bowl cut did not. "This won't take long."

"I'd rather stand."

She waved Elizabeth off dismissively. "Whichever. I want you to call it."

"What?"

"This little tete-a-tete. What do you think Jakob's odds of winning are?"

Shit. She'd always found honesty to be the best policy when dealing with Cipher. Beth rubbed her chin and leaned against the wall behind her, staring at a display of red dots on a digital map of the highway. "…Slim to none. Jakob thinks he's safe in his little sports car, but it's shrapnel at best."

That and the fact Toretto really didn't have any idea about who or what he was up against. Reinforcements had been done on Owen's ramp car, from the roll cage to the hydraulics and the chassis itself. So unless Jakob's Mustang weighed as much as her own Marussia, it would be thrown through the air the instant his focus slipped.

"And if I shot a few holes in their engines?"

"Shouldn't you already know the answer to that question?" Elizabeth sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "You went up against the seven of them last time, with a nuclear submarine, and failed. Why should now be any different?"

"Anyway, it's too late." God, when she got ahold of that Anglo-Slavic bitch, Letty was going to rip her several new assholes. "We found the—"

The signal suddenly turned into a painful blast of static. Shit! Letty twisted the volume knob, quieting the noise, then slapped her hand against the wheel in frustration. There had to have been major interference for the audio to cut out like that, and Shaw's lack of interest in a conversation suggested only God knew what.

"Yo, seriously," Roman continued, "what the hell was that?"

"I don't know," said Tej. "Maybe some ham radio interference? We are pretty far from suburbia."

"It was Russian," Deckard interrupted. "I only caught a fragment. One telling the other to leave."

"You think it's a numbers station?" Tej sounded concerned. "I know the Cold War's over but, c'mon, you've seen the news."

"Whatever it was," Dom said, cutting in before anyone could say anything else, "it doesn't matter. We're…"

A rumble of thunder echoed in the distance that quickly transformed into the familiar whine of turbine engines. Letty stared out the window, scanning the sky till she spotted it. A large plane lifted into the air just a few miles northeast. As it did, she noticed a dust cloud and the car that'd likely kicked it up speeding towards them.

"Y'know, that doesn't look like much in the way of reinforcements to me, man," Roman said. "I'm just saying. If Cipher's trying to protect this thing, why only send one extra guy?"

"Never does, Rome. So are we doing this or what?" Letty said, looking out at the arid desert and the mountains that dominated the horizon. "Every second we waste sitting on our asses lets them get closer to Ely."

There was nowhere to hide out here. Nowhere to run. The next populated town was over seventy miles away, and this long stretch of empty road wasn't serviced by a single gas station.

"What do you say we show them the sky?" Owen's tone was both calm and sadistic, just as it'd been in Moscow during their escape. "For old times' sake."

She couldn't argue with that. As much as Letty'd tried to move on, those memories weren't going away any time soon. Besides, this had been the plan all along, hadn't it? Work in sync, get the job done fast. And she wouldn't have to so much as speak for Owen to know what she was thinking. "…Sounds good to me, Shaw."

Chapter Text

"We're gonna need cover."

Dom's voice crackled through her earwig. "I got you, Letty."

As she moved clear of the formation, they all split, with Tej, Deckard and Hobbs taking the front to block the obvious lines of sight. Brian and Dom drove on either side of Letty, while Roman and Owen sat on her six.

Owen aligned himself directly behind the Corvette, tyres almost grazing Letty's as he hugged her. She would have only seconds to get clear once they were in position, but they'd done this maneuver so many times that Letty trusted her muscle memory wouldn't fail her now.

Now all she needed was for Cipher's welcome party to arrive.

"C'mon, you son of a bitch," Letty murmured. The dust cloud had dissipated, yet not once did that Mustang try to hide. Although its bright blue and white paint job couldn't have concealed it out here where everything was a shade of brown. "It's time to play."

"You sure about that, Letty?"

The sudden response sent a chill down her spine. So they were listening in. She'd figured as much. It was a smart move when Letty thought about it. That was how they'd always evaded the cops, after all.

"Who are you?"

"What, you don't  recognise  me, Dom? C'mon. I thought we were brothers."

"I don't have a brother," Dom said, with all the patience of an angry man.

Letty reached down and switched her transmitter off before she could be tempted to talk. There was something about the voice that sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. It was like a distant memory; an old book too faded and tattered to read.

"Is that what you tell yourself?  Mom  would be so disappointed. That's not how she raised you."

"Half a klick and closing," Deckard interrupted. It was less for his benefit than Owen's. He wasn't stupid - he'd seen them talking, seen his brother slip into formation behind Letty. Those two were working together like it was the old days again. And as much as he might disdain it, it was good to see Owen still understood the meaning of cooperation. "Remember, we—"

Deckard trailed off into silence at the realisation they were a man down. Neither Hattie or Elizabeth were here. There was, in fact, no one to remind. No need to explicitly mention that one or both of his sisters were not, under any circumstances, to blow up the truck and everything inside it.

"Fifty metres and closing," said Deckard. "Sitting at one o'clock."

Letty inched across the lane, with Owen matching her movements, and watched as Deckard broke rank. The view in front of her opened up when he peeled off, revealing the convoy just twenty feet ahead, and the blue Mustang speeding towards her.

"It's a game of chicken, is it? Alright, I'll play."

There was nothing like the feeling of being in a car going over 100mph. The exhilaration, the adrenaline rush. Being moments from danger while still remaining in complete control. Then, when that moment arrived, Letty jerked her steering wheel to the right, sending herself off-road and skidding across the desert.

But as she looked back over her shoulder, she saw it all. The asshole in the Mustang had no idea Owen was behind her. Both his left tyres were lifted off the ground as the ramp caught them, and the speed at which the pair collided vaulted the Ford into the air.

For several seconds, it remained airborne. Then like a two ton metal ball, the Mustang fell. It hit the road with a loud crash and rolled, paint and exterior panels scraping against the asphalt. Side over side, it tumbled off the highway and over the desert plain, carried by its momentum, until the car finally came to rest on its side.

One down, twelve to go. Letty turned herself around, returning to the highway. Up ahead, the convoy had splintered off. Half of the SUVs and all-terrain vehicles were now clear of the truck, leaving the others to defend it.

"Think you can keep it steady, kid?" Hobbs asked. Little Nobody was riding shotgun with a harpoon in his lap. Despite the disadvantage of having one less vehicle, it meant Luke wasn't juggling everything at once. "We're only getting one shot at this."

"Yeah." Eric released his seatbelt, slid across his seat towards the centre console. As Hobbs lowered the driver's side window, he stretched across and gripped the wheel with one hand. "I've got it. Now where the hell is—"

"Change of plans!" Deckard grunted as his Defender was pinned up against the passenger side of the refrigerated truck. The ATV that'd struck him now had its machine gun aimed squarely at his head, spitting out bullets faster than Deckard could blink. They hit the armoured glass window, spreading web-like cracks across its expanse with each impact. "Someone get this bastard off me, will you?"

"No," Brian interrupted. "Hold your position! Hobbs is almost ready."

No matter which way O'Connor looked, it was chaos. Tej and Ramsey were in their Jeep, narrowly avoiding being wiped out. Roman was ramming an SUV, trying to force it off the road. Letty wove in and out, trying to get close to the truck, but Dom?

Dom was about to have a horse up his ass, and there was nothing Brian could do.

The blue Mustang, now upright and on its wheels, pushed past 70mph. Every moment brought the asshole closer to them. Every second gave him an opportunity to take one or more of them out.

Brian looked every which way — Roman had pulled clear, alive; Tej and Ramsey were aligning themselves with the right side of the truck; Deckard remained stuck with no way to go — until his eyes landed back on Dom.

Maybe there was something they could do. Something he could do.

"Letty, I need you on Dom's left!"

There was no verbal response, but she fell back immediately. If Dom sped up at the right time, he and Letty could close in on the Mustang. Pin it between themselves until Owen Shaw could finally and completely stop their unwelcome guest.

"Brian, what're you up to?" Dom didn't sound worried. Rather, he was...curious.

"Trust me, man. I got an idea. Just keep driving."

"Owen!" Deckard's shout coming through the radio made his ears ring. There was fear in his voice, or something close to it. Good, Brian thought. Now you know how Han felt. "You've got fifteen seconds before this window blows."

That seemed like an exaggeration, yet from the safety of his car, Owen could see the predicament Deckard had placed himself in. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, measuring the distance between himself and the Mustang. If he were fast, perhaps there'd be time.

Christ, this bloke just didn't give up, did he?

Fine. Owen turned himself around, dropped the ramp once more and drove in Deckard's direction. He'd just have to hope that Letty and the others could delay their new friend for long enough.

Cracks spread across the glass with every second that passed. Deckard could see it weakening, beginning to give away. Even armored glass had a breaking point. Like everything else, it was only able to withstand being hammered for so long.

Knowing that, Shaw had still hoped that it would last beyond this point. If his windows blew, it'd be the end of both the car and him.

"Owen, hurry it up, will you?" Deckard said, adjusting his seat. There was still a chance he could avoid most of the bullets if he simply moved out of the way, but that was no guarantee. Still, it seemed better than doing nothing. "You're cutting it a little—"

The glass shattered. Bullets flew over the space where his chest had just been, impacting the window that was pressed up against the truck. Deckard grunted and reached down the side of his seat, blindly searching for his pistol. He'd strapped it to the underside of the cushion, but all Shaw found was empty air.

"—close."

The SUV, machine gun and all, was finally thrown into the air. Tossed aside like old garbage. However, that didn't solve the issue of the armor-piercing rounds and still-active machine gun. Bullets sliced through the air, striking the right side of the truck. The side window shattered instantly, and more bullets impacted whatever lay within the cabin. The driver slumped forward in his seat, foot pressing down hard on the gas pedal.

The truck surged forward, the speedometer rapidly rising with every second that passed. At this rate, there was a good chance it'd jackknife and take them out in the process.

"Shaw, what the hell is going on up there?" Hobbs' voice echoed in Deckard's ear. "...Shit! I need more time. Reisner, speed this thing up and get me closer."

Grunting, Deckard peeled away from the truck, weaving between two ATVs in search of some space to maneuver. "The driver's dead."

"That's not good," muttered Roman.

Tej scoffed. "You think, man?"

"I ain't talking about the driver." Pearce looked back through the rear window of his car. The Mustang sat almost bumper to bumper with him. Some smug white boy was behind the wheel, glaring daggers at him. "Yeah, I see your shrivelled gremlin-lookin' ass."

"Cipher." The Mustang's driver clearly wasn't talking to them, but the microphone still picked up what he was saying. "Hit the one in front of me then take out the crab. They're getting on my nerves."

"Oh hell no." Roman shifted gears and murmured a prayer, tapping both hands against the steering wheel as he drove. He didn't want to know what 'take them out' entailed beyond the obvious. "Can someone please," he said, checking his mirror to see the Ford was keeping pace, "deal with this guy out? For real. I ain't playing anymore. Y'all hear that?"

"I do, Roman." Luke adjusted his aim once more. His finger teased the trigger, gaze fixed on the rear doors as the truck began to sway ever so slightly. "But we've all got problems right now. You're going to have to deal with him yourself."

"I'm on my way, Roman," Brian interrupted. "Letty, you coming?"

One moment the Mustang had been coming for Dom, the next it'd switched gears and pushed ahead, going straight for Roman. Every car had given way, handing the driver a clear path, then closed the formation to block them in.

"Damn it." Luke's mutter was barely audible above the noise of his SUV. "Letty, O'Connor! Clear me a path. I'll deal with this sumbitch myself."

"Copy." Letty looked every which way, searching for any sign of Owen. She hadn't seen the ramp car for a solid minute now, let alone noticed anything being tossed like salad. Wherever Owen had put himself, it had to be in front of the truck, or possibly beneath it. "Shaw, where are you?"

Silence.

"Owen!"

"I'm a little busy right now." The truck's tyres weren't turning, and its speed surely had to be into the red. At this rate, it would run off the road, hit dirt, then keep on going and hit everything in its path until it either used whatever fuel it had or hit something solid and blew up. "Decks, think you can keep me next to this—"

Two loud, sequential gunshots rang out above the noise of everything. The kind of deep, violent booms that didn't come from some simple assault rifle. No, what'd just been fired was a much bigger and more unpleasant toy.

And in less than a second, the screech of metal being sheared off filled his ears. Owen flinched instinctively, swerving left to duck under the truck itself. He didn't immediately notice the hole in the road, or the crumpled mess that was his ramp. The only thought going through his head in that moment was survive.

Survive this and whatever else Cipher threw at him. Live to see another day. Live long enough to see his sisters again so he could complain about Hattie sitting on the sidelines, enjoying her mojitos while they did all the work.

"Roman?!" Brian's voice was filled with panic and fear. "Answer me!"

With one hand, Owen ripped his earpiece out and let it drop. Every inch of his body shook, hands trembling violently as adrenaline flooded his veins.

"Damage report?" Deckard shouted, pulling in close to the truck. The hole in the road was now metres behind them, but no one could fail to see it. Where the shell struck, the asphalt had been shattered. "Owen, talk to me."

"I'm fine," he muttered. But his car wasn't. Owen could see it now. The ramp was completely gone. Only twisted and crumpled metal remained. Just a few inches closer, he thought, and the lower half of his legs would've been torn to pieces too. "What do you think?" he spoke into his throat mic. "Cannon, maybe? Damage is certainly bad enough, and the sound..."

Owen didn't hear Deckard's reply, but there was no need to. His brother would be processing the exact same information.

"Cipher could've killed me. She didn't. Why?"

She had everything to gain from his, their, deaths. Two less enemies placed the odds in her favour, yet somehow he still breathed. Unless she hadn't wanted him dead.

Or there was a card up her sleeve.

Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. Soon enough, Cipher would have plenty more opportunities to finish the job and end things properly.

He reached down, fishing around for his earpiece, and slid it back into place just in time to hear, "Whoo!"

"You like fishing, Letty?" Luke laughed. "Me too. What do you say we reel him in?"

The harpoon's claws tore through the Mustang's outer panels, scraping against the fibreglass plates within. Jakob cursed under his breath and reached for a small blue button on his dash.

In the beginning, it'd been nothing more than an idea. A 'cross your fingers and pray' kind of thing. Now, it seemed like a wise decision. One hand on the steering wheel and his feet on the pedals, Jakob stretched himself over the centre console and passenger seat, and pressed the release button.

The corners of the front windshield exploded outwards, ejecting most of the safety glass. He sat up and pushed out the rest, then lifted both of his feet off the pedals and hurled himself through the now empty space.

Jakob tumbled forwards. He caught himself with his left arm, body stretched out over the hood. Already the Mustang was beginning to noticeably slow down. Shit. "Bravo Two, hold your position. I'm on my way."

"Oh, you ain't getting away that easy, boy." Luke hooked the harpoon into place, gripped the metal roof rack, and pulled his lower body out, bracing his feet on the side step. He inched his way forward, leaving Little Nobody to take the driver's seat, and climbed up onto the Ghurka's hood.

Wind blasted him in the face, buffeting his body, but he didn't flinch. It was just like playing Hot Potato with Sam, only instead of a soccer ball, they were tossing around a 240lb man.

"Hobbs?" Eric said nervously. "We have a problem."

The refrigerated truck finally began to jackknife. The cabin slowly slid one way and the trailer another, undercarriage and tyres squealing in protest.

Oh well.

That was Shaw's problem, not his.

Luke took two steps forward and jumped, landing on the rear of the Mustang. He dropped into a crouch immediately, shifting his weight as the car slowed. Ahead of him, Toretto's so-called brother jumped onto Roman's Lamborghini and braced himself.

Before he could move again, Luke stood upright and lunged, throwing himself over the Mustang's roof. He hit the empty space where the windshield should've been and planted his feet against the framework, stopping himself from falling backwards into the car.

"Roman, drop your speed."

"Nah, man, I ain't crazy."

"Goddamn," Luke groaned. He pushed himself up, pulling his knees forward, and got to his feet once more. But instead of finding only empty air, Hobbs' line of sight was filled. Kevlar pants, kevlar jacket. A bulletproof vest and…

Jakob whipped his knee up, striking Hobbs in the jaw. His head snapped backwards, and the momentum took his body as well. Hobbs slammed into the empty frame, but managed to catch himself with his arms at the last second.

"You know," said Jakob, "I promised our mutual friend that she'd be the one to kill you, and I owe her at least that."

Without pause, Luke kicked out, striking Toretto in the groin twice. Cheap pot shot or not, it was almost always an effective move. The unimpressed look on Jakob's face, however, suggested those pants were of a decent weave. "That's cute," Luke laughed, voice dripping with condescension. "You think she's on your side."

Hobbs pushed himself up,

Chapter Text

"Shaw, where are you? Owen?"

Roman rolled his eyes as he drove. Whatever was going on between those two, he knew better than to get involved. Letty was Dom's wife, not his, and certainly not Shaw's.

"I'm a little busy right now." Oh, there he was. "Decks, think you can—"

Suddenly the two ATVs driving on either side of Roman broke off and moved away. That was weird. Why would they give him space? Even the Mustang behind him had eased up. It didn't make any damn sense. Unless...

"Shit!"

Roman pressed his right foot to the floor as all hell broke loose. Two loud, terrifying peals of thunder echoed through the sky, followed by the deep sound of something heavy rushing towards him.

Then as the Lamborghini pushed forward, something struck the rear bumper, shattering it with enough force to shake and lift the entire front half of his car. A moment later, that something struck the road.

Cracks spread through the asphalt, radiating outwards from a hole almost three feet deep. The impact kicked up a thick black cloud of dust and sent pieces of asphalt hurtling every which way, scratching up his paint job and bouncing off the panels.

"Roman?! Answer me!"

He turned to look over his shoulder at the road and blinked. Brian's voice went ignored for the few seconds it took Pearce's brain to catch up with him.

"I'm. I'm here," Roman stammered. "What the hell just happened?"

"You need a diaper there, man?" asked Tej. "Baby wipes? How badly did you shit yourself?"

"Tej."

"Uh-huh?"

"Shut up."

"How about air fresheners?" Tej laughed. He was still teasing, but the concern in Parker's voice didn't go unnoticed. "So you good?"

"Yeah," said Roman. "Like I said, what the hell was that?"

The first sign that something had gone wrong was the truck's left side lifting as Owen slid out from beneath it. He moved clear of the tyres seconds before they slammed back down onto the road.

"We're going to lose this thing if someone doesn't get in there," grumbled Deckard. He looked over his shoulder, checking his brother was now clear, and sighed. The ramp was gone. The car's usefulness outlived. "Owen, it's time to ditch."

"No need. The engine's functioning."

"That wasn't a suggestion." Owen needed to be behind the wheel of his SUV so Deckard could get control of the truck. "Just do as you're told, yeah?"

Owen was a little too old for him to be pulling that line, but sometimes it needed saying. Although they weren't eighteen and ten anymore, Deckard was still the proverbial head of their family. The responsible head, at that.

"The truck's done." Even Owen could see that. Its rear tyres were beginning to slide across the road. The refrigerated compartment sat at an angle. Sooner or later, the whole thing would come crashing down on their heads. "We need to focus on staying alive."

If his brother hadn't noticed, they were still surrounded. Toretto and the others remained somewhere at the rear of the convoy, and Letty? Who knew where she was. In other words, help wouldn't be coming. Everyone was busy covering their own arses.

"Shaw." Hobbs' voice pulled Owen out of his thoughts. "I need an intercept! ATV about to cross your path. Tall white guy in kevlar."

"You want him dead or alive?" asked Deckard.

"Alive."

Well that wasn't much fun. Owen drove clear of the truck's cab just as two ATVs came into view, guns aimed in their direction. In one of them stood the man Hobbs wanted.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." There was something mildly disturbing about how casually he spoke, staring straight at Owen. As if he knew exactly who he was addressing. "You two are meant to survive this, or else there'll be wrath from up on high."

Wrath? Owen chuckled. This bastard knew nothing of wrath. Or of them. The aftermath of what Deckard had done was proof enough that the Shaws were a level above Toretto's usual enemies.

"And as far as I can tell," Jakob continued, "queen bees don't make idle threats."

Queen bees…What was that supposed to mean? Had Cipher's ego grown so big that she now referred to herself as royalty?

Or—No, it couldn't be. Owen was overthinking it. This guy was just talking shit, right? Unless Elizabeth had fed Cipher information.

Because this bloke couldn't possibly know their almost-thirty-year-old nicknames without one of his sisters opening their mouths. From school records to criminal and military, anything pertaining to their pasts had been locked down tight.

But the minor details that went ignored by most people, well, they weren't written down at all.

"Hey, I need you on my six," Owen said. "Keep it steady."

Behind the Shaws, the trailer jackknifed as the tyres lost all traction. It swung wildly across the road, blocking most of the highway. Tilting like it were seconds away from rolling and taking them out.

"Owen, you were right," Deckard said, checking his side mirror. The trailer rocked from right to left and back again, teetering precariously before its left wheels touched the highway once more. It had to be pushing 110mph, and when gravity finally won out… "It's too late."

Hobbs cursed under his breath. If they let Jakob go now, they'd lose the only advantage they had: a direct line to Cipher. With him in custody, the team could potentially utilise that. "Reisner, get around the truck any way you can! I'll take him down myself."

"I don't think that's a good—"

Boom.

Eric jerked the steering wheel to the right, sending them off the highway and onto the desert plain. As he did, the truck's cab erupted into a fireball, exploding and sending shrapnel flying in every direction. The trailer itself tipped over and into a roll, hurtling violently forward towards the Shaws.

"Hey! I told you…" Luke turned to look over his shoulder, eyes wide as he stared at the truck. Twisted, burning metal stood in place of the cab, giving off a heat so severe it raised the air temperature by more than a few degrees. "Deckard, where the hell is he?"

"Going east. Two o'clock. He's running for the plane!"

It was a good guess. In the chaos of the incendiary round taking out the truck's cab, unleashing the trailer, Jakob had ordered the ATV's driver to floor it and cut across the highway. So while the Shaws tried to outrun what chased them, he opted for evasive measures by any means necessary.

"Anyone up there listening?" Jakob looked upward, eyes scanning the sky for any glimpse of Cipher's plane. "I need a rolling pickup! Currently half a klick due east of the road, following a northeast trajectory."

"Lose the tails first."

Tails? He whipped his head around and came to focus on the miniature convoy closing the distance Jakob had gained. Save for the Shaws, the entirety of Toretto's team were all speeding toward him, spread out but driving as one. Like sharks herding fish, they moved with purpose.

Huh. It seemed Dom had finally scraped together what could only be described as bottom of the barrel tactics. If not for the fact they worked, this might've been an amusing display of ingenuity on his part.

"Goddamn it," Jakob muttered. Without his Mustang, he was stuck in this shitty little roofless ATV, being chased by Dom and co. One wrong move now would leave him caught with no way out. Alright, he thought. There's still more than seventy miles to the nearest town. You've got gear, time, gas…

A shell game! The perfect distraction. There was cover up ahead that he could hide in. Toretto and the others wouldn't expect him to be on foot amongst brush and trees. And at the speed they were going, no one would notice him either.

"It's time to finish this. I want three cars to my position now," Jakob ordered. "Keep your faces covered and Toretto's crew distracted. Cipher, circle around and drop Shaw off to the south. I'll give her my location when she's close."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"If you can't handle Dom while accompanied by an armed convoy, that's not my problem."

Perhaps he was reading into her tone too much, but Cipher sounded pissed, and in the background Jakob could hear what sounded like the passive aggressive tapping of keys.

"I supplied the resources you'd need," continued Cipher. "Which means the hands responsible for utilizing them aren't mine."

And right on cue, here came the psycho babble. The endless stream of bullshit Cipher spouted like she was reading from a goddamn thesaurus, or the syllabus of some freshman literature class. Garbage that made her sound smart without actually meaning a fucking thing, like that terrible crocodile at the watering hole analogy.

"God, I never thought time could move slower than it did when I was in prison," Elizabeth groaned, "but this is ridiculous. Any word from—"

Silence fell over the channel as the transmission was cut, blocking any chance of him getting Shaw's attention. Fine. Jakob could deal with it. His priority now would be taking out Letty. Strategically, it was the best move he could make.

With Ortiz removed from the picture, Dom's focus would be torn, allowing Jakob to put even more distance between himself and the team.

"All remaining cars to me! Fire everything you have at the Corvette."

"Dom, we gotta do something, man. I don't like this."

"Me neither. Shaw, what do you think?"

Was that worry he heard in their voices? Funny. Deckard had never taken them for people who got scared. Once upon a time, Toretto was a ballsy bastard, willing to go head to head in a fight. Now he seemed to be hesitant in the face of what, a couple machine guns and some arsehole with a grudge?

"We need to slow this thing down," Deckard shouted at the ramp car in front of him. He'd been riding his brother's six for a few miles now, maintaining proximity for a quick escape route. Despite the trailer still hurtling towards them, the knowledge of what'd happened in Spain lingered at the back of his mind. "Got any ideas?"

"Yeah," said Owen, "but we don't have any bombs."

A large explosion might've provided enough opposing force to drain the trailer of its momentum. Too bad they didn't have the requisite materials, or the equipment. Owen couldn't drive and rewire multiple explosives at the same time either.

Shit. Where was an extra set of hands when he needed them most? Without Hattie, Vegh, or Letty, Owen was all out of options, which left only the contingency: get out of the way and let that thing crash.

Subconsciously, he knew it was too risky to use the harpoons. The force of the trailer's roll would be more than enough to spin the steel cable, and by extension, drag or flip their cars. Consciously, it seemed as good an idea as any, provided they had the numbers.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Owen noted Deckard's position and that of the trailer chasing them. It still rolled side over side, occasionally lifting into the air only to slam back down and send shards of asphalt flying in every direction.

Time to play the team card. Reaching down, Owen turned on his radio once more and adjusted his throat mic. "Letty, you still alive?"

Did it seem like she wasn't? Letty grumbled and swung back into place beside Tej as more bullets began to strafe them. These assholes were now targeting Ramsey, it seemed, and each round that hit their cars was one less chance at survival.

"I'm kinda in the middle of something right now," she said. "Can it wait?"

"No. We need all hands to stop this thing. It's the only way we don't lose—"

The servers. Damn. It'd be a miracle if they weren't damaged already, or destroyed. "You want hands? Get these guys off our asses."

"The ramp's gone."

Letty scoffed. Had he forgotten she wasn't some blind street racer anymore? "Your brother's gun isn't."

A low chuckle came through the radio. From who, Letty didn't know, until that emotionless voice followed it. "I have to ask: what's it like working with the people who killed your team?"

"My team are right—"

"Jah,  Vegh , Klaus.  Denlinger ,  Adolfson , Ivory…You can't pretend you felt nothing when you saw him sprawled out, bullet lodged in his spine."

He was just an asshole trying to push her buttons. Nothing more. And she'd made her peace with the past, or at least Letty thought she had. "Shaw, hurry it up, will you?"

"Or Vegh. Twisted up in a car that should've kept her alive. A car you and your boyfriend helped build."

"Don't listen to him, Letty. He's just pissed because no matter how hard he tries, it'll never be enough to beat Dom," Hobbs said. "Yeah, that's right, you reject Ken doll, I know you who are. I know about your brother Jesse too."

A chill ran down her spine as Letty lifted her head, looking in Dom's direction. She hadn't heard that name spoken aloud in almost fifteen years.

Although they'd never forgotten his idiotic genius, Jesse wasn't a topic anyone brought up often. The past was a painful fucking subject to delve into for all of them. They'd lost so many family members that living solely in the present was easier. It didn't mean they forgot. Just that they moved on and tried to focus on better times. To live and enjoy life for those who'd been taken far too early.

"We loved that kid!" said Brian. "So why the hell are you gunning for us?"

"Ask Dom. He's the one who promised to keep my brother safe."

What? Letty spun the steering wheel, breaking formation and heading straight towards Dom. God only knew what was going through his mind right now. He had to be reeling like she was. Letty didn't remember Jesse having a brother or ever mentioning one, but then again, their conversations mostly revolved around cars, parts, gas, and girls, in those days.

"It was him who left Jesse to die. The doctors said he might've been saved if only someone had applied pressure."

She slid into position next to Dom, struggling to catch his attention. The look in his eyes was distant as he drove, and his shoulders sat low like all the strength had suddenly left him. Dom, Letty wanted to scream. Look at me, Papi. It's not your fault, okay? It's not your fault.

"Why wait until now?" Dom asked.

"First I hoped it'd be Braga that killed you and saved me the trouble. Then Reyes. The Shaws. Cipher. But every time they failed."

"Well, as the saying goes," that smooth, sadistic voice echoed in her head like Letty was back in London, going around scouting for escape routes, "if you want something done right, you do it yourself."

Owen! Letty sat upright and watched as that low-slung ramp car drifted into view, sans the entire ramp structure. It'd been sheared off, leaving a gaping hole. Still, the rest of it was intact, with a figure stretched out and clinging to the back of it.

Slowly, that figure moved until it was upright and crouching, both hands grasping one of the roll cage bars. Owen drove straight for the first ATV, clipped the rear and sent it spinning off to the left.

As he did, the figure stood up. For a moment, with their body at an angle, she might've said it was Shaw. The other, other Shaw, if it were even possible for Elizabeth to be here. But a second glance at that shaved head and five o'clock shadow revealed it was only the son of a bitch who'd almost put Dom in his

Chapter Text

"Looking forward to it, Hobbs," said Jakob, walking toward the cargo bay's rear door. "Assuming she lets you live that long."

"That's a little presumptuous, don't you think?" She'd sworn to herself she wouldn't play this game. Not now that Hobbs was onboard. But Jakob needed a good kick up the arse for thinking he was in a position to order her to do anything. "I never said I'd let you live that long either."

Elizabeth stepped into the doorway, rounding on Jakob before he could get within three feet of it. The look on her face said she wasn't impressed. The smug look on his own, however, suggested she was playing right into his hands.

"Well, maybe later you'll let me change your mind." He came to a halt in front of Beth, positioning himself just far enough to the left that his shoulder didn't block the view of her face. So if Hobbs hadn't already clued into who'd just crashed the party, he would now. "I can be very persuasive, you know."

"Maybe." She patted Jakob lightly on the shoulder. "If you learn to be a good boy."

"Yes, ma'am." That smug smile turned into a shit-eating grin as Jakob winked. He didn't want to say it out loud, lest Hobbs or Roberts overhear, but perhaps this flight wouldn't be so boring from now on. "Do you need anything else, ma'am?"

"No. You can go. You too, Roberts, thank you. I'll deal with Agent Hobbs from here."

Roberts had just secured the second cuff around Luke's other wrist when Shaw spoke. Cipher's lackey looked up at them both, nodded, and left the cargo bay. The fake Toretto, however, seemed to need another nudge or three. Despite her reply, he remained standing in front of Elizabeth, not moving an inch.

She sighed and tilted her head back, studying him. "What is it, Jakob?"

"Should I let Cipher know she has new orders?"

"No. I'll tell her myself. Just keep the plane on schedule."

For a moment, the tone of her voice became serious enough that Hobbs fixed his attention on Elizabeth. He might have called bullshit if it were an obvious bluff, but something about her demeanour suggested otherwise.

Had the mask finally come off, he wondered, or was she wearing yet another one while putting on a show to impress the kevlar-wearing clown? Or — and it was a big, old, worst case scenario 'or' — could this plan have been in place the whole time?

A little over two weeks ago, on the day the Shaws arrived at the base, he'd queried Elizabeth about her meetings with Cipher in Cuba. She'd denied them, as expected, yet this sudden show of strength raised more questions than answers.

Hell, it changed everything.

"Understood."

With that, Jakob finally packed it up, leaving the two of them alone. The cuffs on his wrists creaked as he pulled, but the chain didn't give. Again, Hobbs clenched his fists and strained against them, earning himself little more than a few cuts where they dug into his skin.

"What the hell are you doing, woman? You killed two men. Trashed multiple vehicles. Now you're—"

"Unless you want to be thrown off this plane, I'd keep your mouth shut."

"...Tell me it hasn't been you this whole goddamn time." When he thought about it, it made more sense than he liked. Tipping him off about the truck. The password on Cipher's plane. Jakob's late night visit to the kitchen. It'd all been so easy. So convenient. "Tell me you had nothing to do with—"

"It scares you, doesn't it?" Elizabeth smiled. The look on Hobbs' face was absolutely priceless. A combination of horror and the desperate need to know that the monster under the bed wasn't her. "The idea that the enemy was right under your nose. Again."

"You lay a hand on Elena," Luke growled, "and I'll do more than break your ribs."

Owen was supposed to be the sibling with the psychopathic tendencies, not her, he thought. Yet for Elizabeth to reveal a glimpse of the monster within, well, that was something he'd never thought her capable of until now.

She tucked her hands into the pockets of her fluffy purple bathrobe and took a step forward, cutting a path to the other side of the ATV. "But you won't, will you? Because you aren't certain."

Luke frowned, never taking his gaze off of her as Elizabeth circled around the vehicle. Despite his restraints, he was still more than capable of killing her. Afterwards, he'd struggle to forgive himself, but one look at that photo of Elena and every bit of self-loathing would fade away.

"God," Elizabeth scoffed, staring at him, "I finally get close to what I want and then you show up, right on time."

It wasn't enough that he'd cracked her ribs, or almost killed every one of her siblings. No, Hobbs wanted the gold prize. The ego trip. The story of how he'd truly beaten every last one of the Shaws.

"You know, I thought I'd get at least two weeks' reprieve. A month, perhaps. Long enough for my ribs to heal." For her to gain some trust back. "Now I have to babysit you instead."

What the fuck are you talking about? he wanted to ask. What kind of twisted mind game is this? But Luke had a feeling he already knew. Warily, he took a step forward, then another, closing the remaining distance that separated them. "You're having fun up here, aren't you?"

Elizabeth smiled again. "Is it that obvious? But really, did you think Cipher would give me access because I came back? No. I have to earn it."

The frown on Hobbs' face deepened as she stepped past him, toward her SUV, forcing him to rotate his body as well. "How?"

"That doesn't concern you."

"It does if it puts the team at risk."

"The team is irrelevant," Elizabeth said, glancing over her shoulder. "Anyway, they'll soon be so busy chasing their tails that when it matters most, they won't even see us coming."

And there it was. Us. Elizabeth had only been on this plane for less than three days and already she'd thrown in with—

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Hobbs."

He knew that voice. Luke had only ever heard it once, on the day she and Dom came to take God's Eye, but there was no forgetting it.

Cipher.

Her footsteps echoed in the confines of the cargo bay, loud and foreboding, until the hacker came into view. The woman who was the real source of his nightmares, having kidnapped both Elena and Marcus, and almost killed them.

"I see Elle's been catching you up. What she hasn't told you, however, is that I have a job for you."

"...Dad?" Samantha's voice came over the PA system, cracked and scared. "Dad, where are you? I tried to fight them but they killed Aunt Lisa...I...Dad, I'm so sorry. I love you."

"I swear to God if you touch her—"

"Do what you're told," said Cipher, "and Sam will live."

"Will she?" The chain binding his hands finally snapped. Luke drew his revolver in the seconds that followed, stepped forward, and wrapped his left arm around Elizabeth's throat, pressing the gun barrel to her head. "Release my daughter or I put a bullet in her right now."

"Go ahead." Cipher gestured as she walked toward the rear doorway. "I have no use for a traitor."

For the second time in a month, Elizabeth's hands trembled. She stared blankly, heart pounding so fast it might explode. The seconds ticked by in her mind, but nothing suppressed the feeling of that revolver against her temple.

"Please," Samantha begged. "Please don't hurt my dad. I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt him."

Elizabeth's knees buckled, although Hobbs' arm kept her upright even as she struggled to gain any control over her body, until suddenly the cargo bay door slid shut and she slipped from his grasp, hitting the floor with a thud.

"This is all on you," Luke said. "You and your—"

His words went in one ear and out the other as Elizabeth let herself collapse against the floor. Oddly enough, the dull ache in her neck was nothing in comparison to the sting of acid rising in her throat.

"My daughter. She took my fucking daughter!"

Was he expecting a response or just venting his anger? Whichever it was, it'd be nice if he could stop while she tried to get it together. Slowly, Beth pressed one shaky hand to the floor and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

What Jakob had said to her, the night of their first encounter in the kitchen, kept coming to the forefront of her mind as she sat there. Cipher's team was 'uniquely qualified', he claimed, thus the hacker apparently had no use for Elizabeth's services...

Why it'd taken her so long to figure it out, she wasn't sure, but in hindsight it seemed obvious that no one could be more qualified than Hobbs.

"I'm sorry." Luke offered his hand, but she pushed it away instead. He held it out a second time and she knocked his hand aside. "Shaw—"

I need a drink, Elizabeth thought, getting to her knees. A stiff one. There was a bottle of bourbon, pilfered from the galley, now stashed under the driver's seat of her car. She hadn't planned on cracking the seal yet, but this grand revelation seemed to call for it.

With one foot, she managed to stand. Shaw staggered towards the Marussia, clambered in, and activated the central locking system. Then she reached under her seat and found the bourbon, popping it open without a second thought. Beth took a swig then screwed the lid back on, setting it down in the centre console.

"That's your solution?" Hobbs said in disgust. "Getting drunk?"

They'd tried to tell her. She hadn't listened. Owen. Deckard. Jakob. Even herself, when she labeled Cipher as being among their enemies. Now look where she was: stuck on a plane for what might be the rest of her very short life.

"I wish." Elizabeth glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror then tugged the bathrobe off and threw it on the back seat. God, she looked so stupid wearing that thing. "No, I'm going back to the kitchen, getting an ice pack and—"

Shaw winced again as she peeled her shirt up, revealing a line of dark bruises covering the right side of her chest and stomach. Jesus. This was going to take far longer than two weeks to heal. More like two months.

"—watching a movie."

"How do you know that door isn't locked?"

"I don't."

But someone had to come in and strap down that car sooner or later. And she couldn't stand being in this room with him for even one more second.

"You think she's going to let us walk around unrestrained."

"She has your kid." Elizabeth tugged her shirt down and unlocked the car, pushed the driver's door open only to stand on the side step. "I think that sends as clear a message as any regarding your behaviour."

"...Tell me one thing," Luke said, forcing the words out as if they were too painful to speak. "Did you know?"

Anger flashed across her face as Shaw stepped down off the SUV. "Fuck you."

"Fuck me? You helped her take my—"

"Yeah, fuck you!" She walked straight up to him and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. "You and your ego. I told you: there are lines I won't cross, and this is one of them!"

Her shoulders heaved as Shaw yelled her last words in his face. Luke didn't flinch once, even when she slammed the Marussia's door shut. Or as she turned around to face him once again, seemingly a little calmer this time.

"But go on. Point that gun at my head again if it makes you feel better."

"Shaw..."

"It's Elizabeth. Nine letters and four syllables. Not that hard to pronounce if you try it."

Luke stepped back, allowing himself to collapse against the ATV. He rested his arms on its side, staring at the wall behind Shaw and her car. It seemed they'd both, finally, run out of steam, allowing their heads to clear. "How long do you think Cipher will…"

"As long as it takes to find out where your kid is and save her."

"There's one problem with that plan. You can't fight your way out of a paper bag."

"Have you got any better ideas?"

No, as a matter of fact, Luke thought, he didn't. Although Shaw was heavier than she looked, she had no combat skills beyond busting balls and noses. But, in terms of advantages, he supposed her size and speed could be enough. If she ran fast, dodged all of Cipher's goons, she might not have to fight at all.

"Yeah," she muttered, giving him one last glance, "I didn't think so."

With that, she made her way to the door and tested the handle. Luke pushed himself off the car and waited, watching to see if it opened. Sure enough, it did. Shit. He quickly caught up to Elizabeth and stepped warily out of the cargo bay, into an empty corridor that led both left and right.

He almost asked 'which way?' but stopped himself, instead opting to stay quiet. The last thing he wanted was to get into another argument.

Elizabeth turned right, forcing Luke to follow, then left into a corridor they walked down for a good minute before she suddenly ducked through a door on the left. After several uneasy seconds, Shaw stepped out, ice pack in hand, and pressed it against her ribs.

Metal flooring and walls gave way to wood paneling and a plush white carpet. Luke glanced around, taking notice of the wall-mounted security cameras, and the armed men standing beneath them, armed to the teeth.

His concern grew the further they went. Biometric scanners secured doors, and there wasn't a corner of the plane that could remotely be considered a blindspot.

Up against all of that, Shaw expected to somehow obtain his daughter's location, not get killed, and find them an escape route? Jesus Christ. They'd need all the luck in the world to pull this off.

"Do me a favour," Elizabeth suddenly said, gesturing to a lounge chair to his right, "sit down and don't move."

Where was he supposed to go anyway? Luke sat, hands coming to rest on his knees, as Elizabeth walked towards a door at the end of the corridor. Two scanners, one camera, and a guard, were all positioned outside it.

That had to be Cipher's office.

Shaw knocked on the door twice then looked up at the camera, foot tapping the floor. A second later, the door slid open, revealing darkness, and the faint flicker of LEDs. Before Luke could say anything, Cipher stepped into view, face illuminated by the corridor lights.

"You want to talk, don't you?"

"Yes."

Elizabeth stepped in. The door slid shut almost immediately behind her. She blinked a few times until her eyes adjusted to the darkness, enabling her to find a seat.

"You understand I can't have Hobbs thinking you're playing both sides."

"Fine, but his daughter—"

"Isn't your concern."

No matter what Elizabeth said, the issue wasn't up for

debate. Nor was it something she had any business being involved in. Keeping things separate, compartmentalised, was critical now. Besides, Elizabeth had made it clear many times how she felt about things like blackmail.

"As far as what does concern you...your brother's alive. Be glad I adjusted the algorithm before shooting him."

"You shouldn't have done that in the first place."

"It sells the story. Oh and I found your sister. She's back in London if you want to catch up."

"I...It's been seventeen years." Beth had always thought they'd catch up, but 'when' was another issue entirely. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Try a 'hello'. I'll have a phone set up if you decide to call."

"Seems awfully generous of you," Elizabeth said, a sceptical tone underlying her voice. There was always some kind of debt attached to these things, with the expectation it'd be repaid sooner or later. "What's the catch?"

"When all of this Toretto business is over," Cipher stood and crossed the room, tilting Elizabeth's head back so there was no question as to what she was about to say, "you grow a spine, stop hiding from the world, and come work for me."

"I have a—"

"You slept with Hobbs. Allowed him to live instead of killing him. Of all people, I'd have thought you understood revenge isn't had by clinging to morality."

"And if I decline?"

"Will you?"

"…No."

Chapter Text

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" said Cipher, slipping a pair of black sunglasses off and resting them atop her head. "Our own little piece of paradise."

Luke gave their surroundings little more than a glance as he stepped off the cargo ramp and onto the private runway. Trees, the ocean, and a private beach lay to the east. In the west, the sun was slowly setting behind the clouds, turning everything some shade of orange or pink.

"Sure," he said. "If you like getting sand up your ass."

"This, however, isn't why I brought you here," Cipher continued. "You see, I realised I wasn't clear enough about what I expect from you, Luke."

"Oh, I'd say you were pretty fucking transparent."

Do what the psychopathic hacker said or his daughter would be killed. How much more clarity was required in a situation like this?

"No. I gave you audio when I should've shown you the real thing."

His head turned on a swivel, scanning his surrounds for any sign of a car. Any sign of men holding a child at gunpoint. Instead, Cipher produced a phone and offered it to him. Luke took it without hesitation. Blinking text at the bottom of the screen read 'live stream'.

"We've advanced to the point where deepfakes are becoming truly convincing," she continued, "so consider this the only confirmation you'll get that I'm not bluffing."

The camera turned, looking down from the corner of a room. Sam lay on a bed, her eyes closed and cheeks stained with tears. Next to her, unfolded on a drawer, was today's print edition of the Las Vegas Sun newspaper, with the words 'I love you' scrawled in Sam's handwriting beneath the headline.

"You still haven't said what you want from me."

"For today? Relax. Make yourself at home." Cipher smiled. "But in future? I want you at your best, mentally and physically. No more losing fights to broken soldiers and street punks."

"Hobbs? ...Hobbs!"

He blinked, looking up from the steering wheel to find Shaw standing outside his door. As of thirty minutes ago, they were in the refuelling and reloading phase of the operation. Her Marussia and the ATV had both been removed from the cargo hold, allowing for two new vehicles to take their places.

His was an armoured beast that made Luke's old SUV look like a kitten. The other, once again, was a blue Mustang with white stripes for Jakob. The child who apparently wanted to play with one toy and one toy only.

"Yeah." Hobbs groaned and stretched the kinks from his neck. Being stuck on a plane was doing wonders for his posture. "I'm on it."

They were on the east coast, as far as he could figure. Georgia, Florida, or possibly South Carolina. The sunset and ocean spoke for themselves, along with the travel time. Still, that was too wide an area for him to pinpoint one private airfield based off the little he'd seen.

"Did she tell you anything?" Luke asked, keeping his voice low. Elizabeth walked alongside the car as he drove towards the ramp. "About Sam or where-"

"No."

"So make her talk."

"It's not that simple."

"Bullshit." Luke slammed on the brakes, stopping his new car short of the plane's loading ramp. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, eyebrows furrowing together as every muscle in his body went taut. "You've been with them for less than a week and already he's wrapped around your finger."

"Toretto?" She scoffed. "Are you serious?"

He wasn't wrapped around anything, Elizabeth thought, least of all her finger. Maybe they flirted a bit too much but it was nothing more than playful banter. A way to break the ice before things turned serious.

"You can't win a guy like Jakob in three days," Elizabeth continued, "let alone three months."

There was no trust between them. No loyalty of any kind. Nothing she could use as leverage to even begin coaxing him in her direction. And why would she want to anyway? It'd only cause problems later on when she betrayed Cipher yet again.

"Can't or won't?" Luke asked. "If you aren't up to..."

Elizabeth sighed, looking away from the open window and his large, very punchable face. Up until the moment she left the base, he'd held all of the power, but now, Hobbs had nothing.

A turn of events that would've been amusing if the attached cost didn't come at the sake of his kid.

"You want to know what I've learnt?" she said. "My precarious position is now borderline unstable."

Jakob had been the one to invite her. Not Cipher. That much was obvious when Elizabeth looked at things, not to mention the way she was being sidelined. Or that late night warning in the warehouse.

"If I play my cards right, I have a shot. One shot. So I'm not about to fuck that up by jumping into bed with a bloke who'd soon as kill me if I look at him the wrong way."

"Well, maybe not kill you. When you phrase it like that, it seems a little harsh."

She glanced at the warped reflection in Hobbs' window and rolled her eyes. Toretto just loved sneaking up on her, didn't he? The kitchen, her bedroom, and now here.

"Besides, if I did that," Jakob said, closing the distance between them until he almost loomed over her, "I wouldn't be able to call this in."

His strong arms wrapped around her waist, firm yet gentle, and eased her backwards until her shoulders pressed against his chest. Every survival instinct she had immediately began screaming for her to fight, to claw her way to freedom, but Elizabeth shut them down instead.

She knew there was no imminent threat to her life, no danger to escape from, so she allowed herself to relax even as Jakob lowered his mouth to her ear.

"You know," he said, repeating her own words back to her, "if all you wanted was to get in my pants, there are easier ways than being coy about it."

"Who said I was interested?"

"Are you?"

Elizabeth pried his hands apart, releasing herself from his grasp and moving closer towards Luke's car. "We'll finish this conversation later, pretty boy."

"So you think I'm pretty."

She grasped the SUV's rooftop rail and planted one foot on the side step, pulling herself up. "I didn't say that."

"I take it back," Luke muttered, giving the vehicle some gas and ascending the ramp. "Seems more like you're wrapped around his finger."

Elizabeth climbed down the moment he threw the SUV into park. If that was what Hobbs thought, he was sorely mistaken. "You say that as if you're not a man who lacks the charm required to even wrap someone around his finger."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, woman," Luke said, pushing the driver's side door open. He stepped out and slammed it shut then walked towards Elizabeth, wearing a cocky smirk. "I have more charm than your brothers have brains."

"I guess that explains why you're here and not them," she said, looking him up and down, unimpressed, "seeing as charm has never been proven to correlate with intelligence."

...Shit. He'd walked right into that one, hadn't he? Shaw had all but called him an idiot, and Luke could only stand there, waiting for the next round of verbal sparring to begin.

"Well, if you're done proving just how wrong you are, I'm going to eat before someone takes all the Hawaiian."

"Elizabeth."

For God's sake, she groaned internally, what did he want now? Wasn't the sun setting and the stack of pizza boxes in the galley enough of a clue that it wasn't the time to be interrupting her? Or maybe he planned on denying her the privilege of hot garlic bread.

"What?" She winced as she spoke, right hand instinctively going to her ribs. Getting up on that car had been a mistake. "If you're going to lecture me about something, save your breath. I have no interest in hearing it."

"I'm sorry for—"

"You've said that twice now. Each time is as meaningless as the last."

Meaningless? He was trying to be nice. Make amends and all that bullshit. But if she didn't want to listen, why bother? Luke muttered under his breath and turned away, facing the door that led to the rest of the plane.

"Fuck. I..." said Elizabeth, noticing his movement. "In my experience, 'sorry' is a word people say to make themselves feel better, right before they go back to being pieces of shit, so it's not exactly something I put much stock in. Anyway, save your apologies for your kid. She's the one who's going to need them."

Luke turned around once more, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at her. That was what Shaw thought? Jesus. He tucked his hands into his pockets, resisting the urge to reach out and knock some sense into her.

Sure, he knew she'd gotten her foot in the door with the Russian mob by using the only resource she had, but the file he'd pieced together was rather lackluster when it came to what followed, save for the murder and her subsequent prison sentence.

The one that'd been interrupted by forces unknown.

He watched as Elizabeth sighed and reached up, freeing the ponytail she'd been wearing all day. She combed her fingers through her hair twice then walked past him, going left instead of right. That was odd, Luke thought. The galley and the rest of the plane was to the right, so what lay the other way?

Hobbs looked down at the airstrip, making sure Jakob wasn't about to rush up and surprise him, then took off in the same direction. He followed the left corridor around, finding himself face to face with a hallway and a set of stairs that led to a second floor.

Shit. Which way had she gone? When he looked upstairs, Luke couldn't see a thing. It was pitch black, save for a dim red light above a metal door. If that'd closed, he thought, surely he would have heard it, so Elizabeth had to be on the lower floor then.

But where?

He counted five doors lining the right side of the corridor, with one at the far end. Although only one of them had a beam of light extending from the gap between the door and floor.

"...From now on, I'd keep your nose where it belongs," Jakob said, making Luke almost jump out of his skin. "Or it'll be cut off the next time you go poking around."

"Sneak up on me again and I'll cut your goddamn head off." He pivoted to face the faux Toretto, lips pressed together in a grim line. "I was looking for-"

"I don't care. Go hang out in the common areas, eat some pizza, or jerk off in your room. You don't need to be down here."

"And she does?"

"That's not any of your concern, cop. If I were you, I'd be more focused on doing what you're told. That way, your little girl keeps on breathing. Because if you screw this up, the one who'll face the consequences is her."

He sidestepped Hobbs and made his way to the first door on the right, opening it without hesitation. Light poured out into the corridor, along with the sounds of voices, laughter, and chairs being dragged.

"Jakob, kill Roberts for me, will you?" Elizabeth's voice echoed out from the room. "He's taken my dinner hostage."

"In my defence," Roberts said, "I offered to negotiate. She refused."

"I don't negotiate with...Hey, Finest Ass In America, you eating or what?"

"Finest ass?" Jakob choked and broke into a coughing fit. "Who exactly are you talking to?"

Luke hesitated. There were many things he'd do for the sake of his daughter, but walking into that room? Sitting down and breaking bread with the people who were currently holding a gun to Sam's head? That was a hard task.

"Screw it. Gimme half a Hawaiian, half a deep dish, and some garlic bread. We get anything for dessert?"

"Brownies," said an unfamiliar voice.

"Two of those too."

"Now you want to negotiate?" asked Roberts.

"Just hand it over and no one gets hurt."

"Shaw," said Jakob, "where are you—"

A few seconds later, Elizabeth walked through the open doorway and thrust one of two boxes at him. "Come on. I'm starving."

Luke swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and followed her into the cargo hold, then down to the base of the ramp where they both sat. He popped open the lid, staring at the half pizza, garlic bread and brownie within. "We need to talk."

"I don't know what you like so I went for something with meat."

"Your boyfriend knows."

She glanced at him before lifting the lid of her own box and tearing into a slice. "About what?"

"Sam."

"You might want to eat that before it gets cold."

In hindsight, it seemed obvious that Jakob would know. He was the Devil's right hand man. If Cipher so much as sneezed, he'd be there ready with a tissue.

"Stop avoiding the subject."

"Fuck me," Elizabeth muttered, flicking the pizza box in her hands closed. "I understand now is a difficult time for you," she said, turning to face him, "but you need to divorce yourself from your emotions or we aren't going to get anywhere on this."

"I need to—"

"I told you I can waltz, but I can't do a box step if my feet aren't working in tandem."

Luke understood what she was trying to say with the metaphor, but that was a convoluted way of going about it. "And I'm supposed to be one of your feet?"

She sighed and rubbed her forehead with her left hand only to lay back against the ramp. "Two weeks," Shaw groaned. "Two whole weeks of this. God, where's Owen when I need him?"

"Not here," Luke said, "so it looks like I'm all you've got. Considering what happened last time you and your brother worked together though, I'd personally be glad he isn't around. Things don't tend to work out well for you when you mix business with family."

"That was different. I made a conscious choice."

"You ended up in Gitmo."

"Because you put me there, you arrogant wanker! If not for you, I wouldn't have ended up in that prison at all, and I certainly wouldn't be here having to deal with not one but two egotistical idiots."

Elizabeth sat up as if to stand, but the next thing Luke knew, she was bent in half and clutching at her side. Shit. The last thing they needed was her puncturing a lung or her diaphragm while they were miles from a surgeon, nevermind a quality hospital.

"Alright, woman,

Chapter Text

"Dom?" The cargo plane rattled around them as Letty rolled over, grasping his shoulder and shaking him gently. "You awake?"

He groaned, eyes slowly fluttering open. Dom squinted up at her before recognition kicked in and the lost look on his face turned to familiarity. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Well, that depended on who you asked. Truthfully she was shitting her pants right now, but in a few months, that all might change. "I wanted to talk. In private."

"Sure. Just give me a minute."

Dom looked at her as if confused about the why, nevermind the what. Still, Letty quietly climbed out of bed, easing her way past the cots that'd been set up for the team, minus one.

Hobbs.

It was strange not having him there. The first few hours had left her head spinning as she wondered exactly what Cipher and Jakob would do to him. Whether he'd even be alive by the end. Letty had found herself praying earlier, for the first time in weeks, asking for Hobbs to come back alive.

Not just because he was one of them, but for his kid's sake. They'd met on that rooftop in New York and the connection was instant. Sam was a good kid, she thought, who didn't deserve to have her dad ripped out of her life.

"Letty," Dom said when they were finally alone, crammed inside a small storage room. "Talk to me. What is it?"

She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat, then pulled the box from her pocket. It seemed gross to outright hand Dom something she'd peed on, so Letty opted for the next best thing.

"It was positive."

"You..."

His eyes widened. He took a step forward, coming to grasp her shoulders, looking at her like he was asking if she was serious.

Letty nodded. Every part of her wanted to vomit, yet something resembling maternal instinct screamed to find some isolated corner of the planet and hide until this thing—their child—was out of her body. Safe in her arms. "I'm pregnant."

"I don't know what to..." He wiped his hand over his face and took a breath, then Dom reached down and lifted her up, kissing her gently. "I'm gonna be a father."

"Yeah, you are, Papi," Letty said.

The smile she wore hid everything—the fear and anxiety building up inside her, the way her stomach roiled. Every worry and concern Letty had carried around since she was nineteen and they'd started taking things a little more seriously.

"Do you want to tell the others?" he asked.

"Not yet."

Would it even survive to full term? How was she even meant to do this without her mom around, or her grandmother? She didn't have a damn clue what she was meant to do, and the God's honest truth was, she was fucking terrified because of that.

It was why she'd procrastinated taking the test in the first place.

Sure, her team was here, but her family? Mia? Elena? The women she'd leaned on in the past and present? They weren't here, now, when she needed them the most.

Having Ramsey around was great, Letty thought, but she couldn't fill the hole left by Mia's absence.

Or Shaw's...

As much as Letty wanted to board Cipher's plane, find the traitorous bitch and drag her off by the hair, Elizabeth had told her to turn around. Leave. Do what she said and Letty might get an answer or two.

Too bad any kind of answer was now long since gone.

"Maybe in a day or two," Letty said. "I haven't quite…It still feels surreal, you know? But I need to call Mia first, and Elena."

Dom nodded. He was probably about to tell her they couldn't call Mia, or anyone else right now, but if that was what she wanted, they'd figure it out.

Hell, he'd move mountains for her if it came down to it.

"I'll see what Nobody can do."

"We're not having this conversation again." Cipher shook up a can of compressed air and angled it at the computer fan in her hand, blowing away what little dust remained. "The answer is 'no'."

"Revenge isn't had by clinging to morality. That's what you said. So what will it take for me to jump the queue?"

Cipher set them both down on her desk and frowned. This damn impatience of Shaw's was exactly why she'd tried to nip things in the bud yesterday. Too bad it also played right into her hands. "Ten years in the military."

"Come on!"

"You build bombs, Elle," Cipher said, slumping down on her desk chair. No matter how many times they had this discussion, the answer was always the same. "Demolitions and circuits. That's what you do, and you do it well. And yes, very rarely do you find yourself capable of killing a man, but it's never the right one."

"Oh, for God's sake. Is this about him?"

No. Given he was the only man Shaw had ever killed with her bare hands, though, it wasn't surprising her brain went straight to 'him'. "It's not about Yuri Makarov."

"Then what?"

"You were on base for two weeks."

"Toretto." Elizabeth sighed, easing herself up to a sitting position. "I didn't have a chance."

She could make excuses all she wanted, but the truth was, Elizabeth would never be ready. She'd never 'jump the queue' or find herself within any inner circles because she didn't have what it took to be ruthless.

Not anymore, at least.

"A kitchen knife to the jugular did the job last time."

"That was different," Elizabeth said.

"Because you were in bed with the target or because his wife wasn't pregnant?"

"You know why."

Cipher did, but she'd been hoping Elizabeth would say it aloud. Perhaps then she'd realize how ridiculous she sounded. How weak she'd become after years of sitting behind a desk in Moscow like an overindulged pet.

"If you keep waiting for someone to harm your family before you take action," she said, "you won't have any family left."

Elizabeth's expression turned cold as she pressed her lips together in a grim line and clenched her fists. "Don't go there."

"Yes. Let's." Shaw might've started the conversation, but she'd be the one to finish it. And perhaps this was exactly what it would take to wake her up to her new reality. "How many times does Dom or his team have to put one of your brothers in a coma before you do something about it? Or Hattie?"

"I just asked you—"

"No, Anna, you want to skip to the end of the story. You don't want to do the work required to get there."

"And what work is that?"

"Pick up a gun," Cipher said. "Learn to use it."

She stood up, scowling. A trademark look that every Shaw seemed to possess. "Now who's rehashing an old conversation? I don't need a gun to kill someone."

"Then for the same reason you froze in the cargo hold with Hobbs, you'll freeze when you find yourself facing Dom's team."

No matter the scenario, Elizabeth kept coming up against the one thing she lacked when faced with an opponent.

Skill.

It was a reasonable assumption that when someone pointed a gun at your head, they intended to shoot. Shaw's instincts seemed well attuned to that. Yet time and time again, it was her inability to fight back that rendered her vulnerable. After all, put a gun to her head—even an empty one—and fear overrode everything.

"I won't."

"Elizabeth."

"What do you want to hear? That I didn't try to kill Dom? Well, I didn't," Elizabeth said, approaching the desk and planting her hands. "There were at least twenty-seven cameras in the northeast quadrant alone. Five covered the parking lot and doors. I couldn't make a move without someone seeing something."

"That didn't stop you fourteen years ago."

"There wasn't a guillotine hanging over me then."

"There isn't one now." Cipher sighed and propped her feet up on her desk. "Two weeks. That's how long you need to heal, and that's how long I'll chase them until Mr. Nobody takes the team exactly where I want them to go."

"…What the hell are you planning?"

"The Agency has something that belongs to me. I intend to take it back. So for the next fourteen days, you will be in that armory. You will pick up a gun. And you will get it together, Elle, or God help you."

She hesitated, meeting Cipher's gaze for all of a moment before looking away. "You said you had no use for me."

"I don't. That doesn't mean I'm going to let you sit on your ass twiddling your thumbs for any longer than I have to. Take the painkillers and get to work. And tell Jakob I want to see him."

"Cipher."

"Cuba made you lazy, Elizabeth." Any shred of mercy or sympathy that might've been heard in her voice was gone now. Replaced by cold, hard truths, and brutal honesty. "But it was Moscow that made you weak."

"We haven't worked together in four years, so I'll pretend you misspoke. I am not weak."

"Then prove it."

If there was one way to get results, it was by pissing her off. An angry Shaw was a determined one—a focused one. All Cipher had to do was point her in the right direction, give her a push, and the rest would take care of itself.

Elizabeth slapped her hands down on the desk before pushing off. She left the office without a word, walking out into the common area and heading straight for the armory-slash-gym.

Where, if he hadn't finished already, the pretty boy would still be working out.

She knocked on the door twice and waited, staring at it as if willing it to open. "Toretto, you in there?"

"...Yeah. It's unlocked."

Thank God. Elizabeth slid it open and stepped inside. Jakob was on the floor doing one handed pushups, his bare chest exposed for the world to see. And what a chest it was—solid, thickly layered pectorals, with flat, hard abdominal muscle beneath it. He had the kind of body that said he wasn't interested in being ripped, but rather, being strong.

"Cipher says she wants to talk to you."

"She'll have to wait," he said, glancing up at the security camera in the corner of the room. "I'm busy. But by the look on your face, I'd say your talk didn't go as planned."

"She played me. Again."

"It's what she does." His expression softened momentarily before returning to his usual determined look as Jakob finished his last rep. He got to his knees and leaned forward, sweat beading on his forehead. "She knows pissing you off gets a reaction, so she pokes until you snap and do exactly what she wants. Anchor me?"

Elizabeth nodded. She shut the door as Jakob laid down, then stepped onto his feet, resting all her weight atop him. He let out a grunt before beginning his first sit-up.

"So what is it that she wants?" Jakob said.

"The old me." There was a haunted look in her eyes, Elizabeth noticed as she caught her reflection in the wall-mounted mirror behind Jakob. If Cipher got her way, all the progress she'd made over the last ten years would be undone. The woman she'd once been—the nightmares she'd buried—would all return. "The me who got revenge and enjoyed it."

"Would that be such a bad thing? We are talking about Dom."

"You don't know who I was back then."

Jakob gestured for her to step back once he'd finished and got to his feet, grabbing the only chair in the room that wasn't bolted down. He sat and rested his arms on the back of it. "So tell me."

"Or you tell me where to next."

He looked over his shoulder at his kevlar gear spread out on a metal bench behind them. "You're changing the subject."

"We hit turbulence last night before turning around," Elizabeth said. "And at three thirty, we landed somewhere for five minutes."

"Stop."

"That's not your usual suit either."

His gear looked the same at first glance, but Jakob would give her this much: she was perceptive. They'd turned back west after going so far over the North Atlantic for reasons he didn't care to know. Yet they'd also flown south before—as she'd said—landing for all of five minutes.

"Elizabeth." She didn't get it, did she? Throwing Cipher under the bus, betraying her, was the worst possible decision she'd made. Whatever trust the two of them once had was gone. Add the issue of Hobbs' blackmail into the mix and the hacker would be keeping Elizabeth at arm's length for the rest of her life. "You are on thin fucking ice right now."

One wrong move and Cipher would give the kill order, and then they'd all be at an impasse. If he didn't kill her, Cipher would have him taken out. If he did kill her, well, there was no coming back from that. And no matter how much Hobbs pretended to be indifferent, he wasn't, which would only lead to one of them killing the other.

"I've spent my entire life on thin ice, Jakob," she said, looking down at him. "Tell me something I don't know."

"My favorite color is blue, and you're still changing the subject."

"Purple."

A royal color for a princess. Why wasn't that surprising? "Now you're trying to distract me."

She lowered herself onto his lap, straddling him as the corner of her lips curved up in a knowing smirk. "Is it working?"

"No." That same spark he'd seen in Shaw's eyes when they were leaving the base was there now—the thrill of adrenaline, of breaking the rules. Of not giving two shits about what anyone else

Chapter Text

"You think I didn't know that already?" It was a lie, but it was a lie that'd keep them both on their toes until she could get ahold of Jakob and get some answers. Elizabeth looked between him and Hobbs, keeping her body language far more relaxed than she felt. "By the way, you really shouldn't go breaking into people's rooms if you want to see your daughter alive again."

The anger in Luke's eyes went from cool to scalding hot in an instant, yet that self control of his must've been impeccable because he set the phone down next to her left leg, and all without so much as blinking.

"You touch Sam," Hobbs said, "and I'll bury you with your father."

"Hmm." Elizabeth unwrapped her legs from around Jakob's waist and slid off the bench, walking towards the Fed. "That might be a difficult task given he's alive and well. But if you think you can waltz with the best of us, feel free to try."

"This isn't a goddamn dance, Shaw."

Yes, it was. He just hadn't caught on to that fact yet. She'd told him as much last night. Too bad he either hadn't been listening or he'd forgotten their talk during dinner. "Are you sure about that?"

Jakob cleared his throat, stepping up to her left side for a brief moment. "I should go see what Cipher wants. We'll resume this later?"

"Maybe," Elizabeth said, giving him a cursory glance. "If she doesn't keep you too long."

He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "You're an asshole."

"Takes one to know one, pretty boy."

"So now you're on their side?" Luke said, stepping forward. His hand went to his right hip, as if to grasp his gun, but nothing was there. "Is that what this is? Cipher bought your loyalty?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. She was going to have to beat him over the head with it, wasn't she? Elizabeth moved as close as she could to him, raising herself up on her toes for an extra inch or two of height.

"Cargo hold," she hissed. "Two minutes."

"What?"

"And stay out of my room," Elizabeth said, snatching the phone from the bench and her shirt from the floor, "or I'll kill you the next time I find you in there."

Luke glared at her as she stormed out of the armory, disappearing into the corridor. But instead of waiting, he was hot on her heels. Hobbs' footsteps echoed behind her as she tucked her phone into her pants pocket and tugged on her shirt, walking straight into the cargo hold.

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind them, blocking out any and all sound from the rest of the plane, and hopefully cutting them off from the microphones that were undoubtedly concealed around the plane.

"What is wrong with you?" Luke said, moving towards her. "You couldn't wait one day to jump in his pants? They've got my kid and you're more interested in getting laid than saving her."

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, doing her best to suppress the laugh that almost spilled out as Hobbs began ranting. She popped open the back of his SUV and laid on the carpeted floor of its rear section, feet dangling over the tail.

"I asked you two days ago if you were part of it and you said 'no'. Were you lying then?"

"Hobbs."

He gripped the rear door, staring down at her. "Answer the goddamn question!"

"I will if you pull your head out of your arse."

Hobbs didn't get it, did he? Kicking doors down and knocking men out, leaving a trail of corpses—that was how Deckard, Owen and Hattie handled things, not her. She preferred the slow dance. The long game where every move was calculated and recalculated, planned down to the last millisecond. And saving his daughter, going toe to toe with Cipher, was going to be the longest game of their lives.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." The door creaked under his hand as Luke leaned on it and planted his foot on the SUV's rear. "Care to repeat it?"

"You really buried it deep, didn't you? Alright. Turn around and bend over. I'll pull it out for you."

"Shaw."

"How many ways am I going to have to say it? You're in Oz, Dorothy! Adapt to the situation or kiss your kid goodbye."

"You threaten Sam again—"

"That's not a threat. It's a fact." She sat up, staring at the massive DSS agent in his white shirt and loose cargo pants. Dressed like that, he didn't look nearly as intimidating in comparison to when he wore his full protective gear. "You and I both know that on this plane, you're nothing more than a means to an end. A tool on a shelf, and your usefulness will run out the day Cipher has what she wants. After that, she's got no reason to keep either of you alive."

"Then help me save her!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" On one hand, dry humping Jakob wasn't all that necessary to the plan. On the other, she couldn't very well vent to Luke, could she? He hadn't yet grown well-versed in Cipher's premium grade psychoanalytical bullshit. "If you hadn't barged in, I would've had Jakob right where I wanted him."

"Between your legs," he scoffed.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

God, Cipher was right. As loathe as Elizabeth was to admit it, the woman she'd once been—the her of decades past—was exactly who she needed to be to help Hobbs save his daughter. The brutal, ruthless ice queen who'd taken a page from her psychopath brother's playbook and thrown her conscience out the window.

"You said you wouldn't—" Luke seemed to hesitate, opening and closing his mouth as if he really didn't want to have this conversation with her. "Why…"

"That blind eye? It's time to turn it."

"Shaw."

"How do you say it again?" Elizabeth asked. "Bliss and ignorance go hand in hand?"

"Something like that."

"Then be blissful, Hobbs. The less you know, the better."

That was easier said than done when he was being tipped off, manipulated, by Cipher and others. "Elizabeth."

"Stop asking questions. Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. If she gives an order, follow it. You'll both live longer."

"You're asking me to betray Dom and the team."

"Who matters more to you? Sam, or the man whose actions resulted in your team being killed? If not for Dom, they'd still be alive, right?"

He hesitated. That was certainly one way to interpret how things had played out. If Dom had never pissed off Reyes, his team wouldn't have been ambushed in the favelas.

"It's not that simple," Luke tried to argue.

"Yes, it is. Someone else makes a choice and we're the ones who face the consequences of it."

When she phrased it like that, it did seem—much to his disgust—to be that simple. The butterfly effect in action, so to speak. But the past was the past, and Hobbs didn't like to waste time on looking backwards.

"What about your orders?" he said. "You want to preach to me, but I don't see you practicing your bullshit."

She scooted forward as if to step past him but Luke blocked her. Shaw glared at him, fingers drumming on the SUV's carpet. "Move."

"You're not going anywhere until we've finished—"

"This isn't a debate. You move, or he makes you move."

He? Luke turned to look toward the door, checking to see if it was still closed. Elizabeth slipped out the side and ducked under his arm, walking up along the SUV toward the corner workbench.

"Hey! Answer the question, Shaw."

She hotfooted it for the door, sliding it open partially, only to freeze. In an instant, her entire body went rigid.

"Breathe. In and out."

Jakob.

Shit.

Why the hell was he here? And why was the lying sumbitch talking like some half-assed yoga instructor?

"That's good. Now open your eyes."

"I can't." Shaw's words came out like a mouse squeak. A terrified, broken noise that sounded all too familiar. It was the sound of Sam's voice over the loudspeaker. Fear so raw and primal it was crippling. "I can't do this. I can't…"

Luke stepped forward, coming closer until he could see just what had Shaw on the brink of shattering. Jakob stood to her left, a gun in his hand, with the barrel pressed to her head. "Jesus. Put the gun down."

"You don't have a choice," Jakob said, completely ignoring him. "Two weeks, remember? Or was she right about you?"

There was a tremor in Shaw's voice as she said, "Fuck you."

"Only if you open your eyes, princess."

"Jakob."

"You're not going to die. Now look at me. Tell me Cipher's wrong."

"She's wrong."

"Elizabeth."

She whimpered, but slowly, her head turned in Jakob's direction. The gun scraped over her skin as she shook; all five feet, seven inches of her trembling like a rabbit. Luke didn't know whether to step forward and snap Jakob's arm at the elbow, or hurl him into the nearest wall.

"I'm not…" Elizabeth stammered. "She's wrong."

"There we go. Now what are you thinking?"

"What?" She turned around, her back against the door jamb. "I don't know. I can't focus. I just want to—She told you. Why did she tell you?"

"Then what are you feeling?"

"You just put a gun to my head!" Shaw snapped. "What do you think I'm feeling?"

Luke frowned. He wanted to know her thoughts and… "Cipher's trying to fix you, isn't she?" he said, looking at her. "With mindfulness."

The technique had never worked on him, but Shaw was fuelled by fear. An entirely different ball game compared to the guilt that'd weighed upon him for months after Brazil.

"I could guess," said Jakob, "but why don't you tell me instead?"

"Fine. I'm feeling like I want to take that gun and shove it down your throat if you ever do that again," she said, glaring at Jakob. "And no, she's not trying to fix me, Hobbs. She wants to break me since that's what your—"

"Elle." There was a warning in Jakob's tone. Like Shaw had just been about to put her foot in her mouth and say something she wouldn't be able to take back. "Don't."

She took a deep breath and pushed off the doorway, taking off down the right corridor. Her hands shook as Elizabeth walked, bare feet thudding against the carpet. Yet despite the fact she remained standing, his instinct said Shaw was moments from falling apart.

"Why did you say she doesn't have a choice?" Luke rounded on Jakob. "And what the hell is two weeks away?"

"The only present threat to Cipher's plans is her," he said. "They both know it. So Cipher has issued her an ultimatum—cease being a liability, or she ceases to be whatsoever."

"What?"

Jakob wasn't serious, was he? It had to be some kind of farce. Yet another sick game. But if that was true, why did Luke's gut say he wasn't lying?

"If Elizabeth can't hold her own in two weeks, you'll be told to kill her. If you don't, your daughter will be next." Jakob began walking off in Shaw's direction, then paused and looked at him. "Welcome to Oz, Dorothy."

"No, you know what?" Elizabeth's voice echoed down the hallway, preceding her reappearance. "Why shouldn't he know all his boss's dirty little secrets?"

"Elle."

"He'll find out sooner or later."

Luke frowned, looking between the two of them. "Which boss?"

"Mr. Nobody," said Elizabeth. "The guy with the bad taste in suits. Prior to Cipher going rogue, he was her boss. Yeah. The guy who taught her all the tricks of the trade, down at good ole Camp Seven. You remember what that place is like, don't you, Hobbs?"

Shaw was lying. She had to be. There was no way Cipher could have ever been one of them. The woman was a psychopath, on par with…a certain former member of the British SAS and MI6.

"If you're done," Jakob said, "I need a drink."

"Oh, has putting a gun to my head left you feeling tired?"

There was that fickle bitch again, and the anger Jakob had known his actions would provoke. Now if she could just hold onto that focus and drive, sans the rage, Elizabeth might somehow survive the next two weeks.

"I didn't say that." He grasped her by the shoulder, forcing her back against the wall. "Did I? Now read my lips so there's no mistaking what I do say: I need a drink." Jakob lowered his gaze, letting it rest on the waistline of her pants. A smile tugging at his lips as he looked back up at her and hooked one of her belt loops with his thumb. "Are you coming or not, Miss Shaw?"

"I'd almost believe you if not for the look in your eyes," Elizabeth said. She pressed her hand against the middle of his chest and tilted her head half an inch to the right, the look in her eyes changing as she spoke. "You want soft heat, not a burning flame. Not yet, at least. Of course, some men like it when you take them by the tie and lead them where you want them, but that won't work on most women."

"Answer the question, princess."

The burning desire she hinted at shifted back to hot anger in a split second. "Go fuck yourself, pretty boy."

"Elizabeth."

"He said you aren't really Dom's brother, then you put a gun to my head. Consider the buzz thoroughly killed. But I'll take that drink if it's bourbon, and an explanation or two."

All things considered, he did owe her at least that. Jakob stepped back and gestured to the corridor, narrowly avoiding crashing into Hobbs. "After you."

"Is there enough in that bottle for three?" Luke said. Elizabeth turned her attention to him, nodded, then pushed off the wall and led the charge to the galley. "Alright then."

Jakob frowned but said nothing. He'd no doubt be on thin ice himself now, albeit with her instead of Cipher.

"The short version is my brother

Chapter Text

Five minutes.

That was how long it took for the walls to come crashing down. For the meddling deity to send in the flood and wash them all away, purging her plane of their sins.

Roberts had walked in after Hobbs' second drink, taken one look at the three of them, and ordered his fellow lackeys to get their arses to the other end of the plane.

Several hours later, not one of them had made a reappearance. There wasn't so much as a sign of Hobbs, let alone that lying bastard.

But Cipher? That awful haircut and her sharp jaw haunted Elizabeth's line of sight. Back and forth she walked between her office and whatever lay upstairs, returning with what looked like a weapons cache, or a tightly rolled up sheet of paper that could only be a detailed schematic.

Eventually, she stopped paying any mind to her surroundings altogether, until...

"Shaw."

Elizabeth opened her eyes, staring up at the pale figure that loomed over her. Dressed in that black kevlar suit of his like some wannabe grim reaper, Jakob clutched a holster in his left hand. A noticeably not empty holster.

Fuck.

"Put that gun to my head again," she said, "and you won't like what happens next."

"It's a Glock 19."

"Don't."

"Fifteen bullets in the mag. One in the chamber. There's no safety switch so keep your finger off the trigger." He set it down on her lap—all twenty-nine ounces of it—and left it there. "Get used to wearing it."

"Jakob."

"We'll be back before dawn."

Dawn? What the hell was he talking about? Elizabeth stood, only to fall straight back down onto the lounge as her legs gave out. The pistol hit the floor and laid there, ignored, as she forced herself to breathe. "She's making a move?"

"Go have a shower. Get something to eat and go back to sleep. You look like hell."

"Where's Hobbs?"

"He's in the cargo hold."

"And his daughter?"

Jakob sighed. "She's fine."

"What time is it?" Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet again, taking a single unsteady step forward, then another, until she was close enough to grasp one of his shoulder straps. "It was still light when I..."

"Elle."

"Told you—" God, what did it matter what he called her anyway? It was only a damn name. One she didn't even like, if she was being honest with herself. "Are you drunk?"

"No." Jakob's gaze softened and his eyes wrinkled at the corners. A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. "Why? Are you worried about me?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Elizabeth."

"How long were you going to keep up the charade? Until Cipher told you to drop it?"

His smirk turned into a frown. Jakob stepped forward, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back, and pulled her closer. "Stop pushing your luck."

"God, those apron strings must chafe."

"It's a job. She pays me to do what I'm told." Elizabeth could try to provoke a reaction all she wanted, but she wouldn't get anywhere. Not when Jakob was thirty minutes from sending a very clear, very obvious message to Dom. His mind was clear, and above all else, focused. "Now do what you're told and pick up that holster."

She scowled at him but crouched down, reluctantly picking it up, only to slap it into his grasp. "There."

"Turn around, princess."

"I didn't say I'd be wearing it."

"But you will," Jakob said, unclipping two of the holster's straps, "because you know what comes next if you don't."

They'd have to organize a belt and rig her up properly later. Without one, the weight of the straps would leave her pants down around her ankles, so for now, it'd be enough to secure the damn thing to her leg.

"Hey." Hobbs' voice came from the direction of the cargo hold. "We're green in five."

"I'm aware." He crouched and looked up, unable to help the wry grin that crossed his face as Elizabeth looked down at him expectantly. "Unless you plan on flashing the Fed," he said, "this will have to go on your thigh."

"Which is about as close as you're ever going to get."

"Is that a promise?"

She tugged her pants leg up and rolled her eyes, gesturing at him to get on with it. It wasn't a rebuke, yet it wasn't confirmation either. Jakob secured the holster around her mid thigh, paused, then looked up.

"Don't even think about it," she said.

"It'll fit better."

Elizabeth reached down, unstrapped the holster and tossed it on the lounge behind her. "I'll go get a belt."

"Four minutes," warned Hobbs.

"Fine." Jakob stood and angled her head back, bringing their faces as close as he dared. "Do me a favour?"

"What?"

"Don't go in there tonight."

Elizabeth tucked her hands into her pockets, saying nothing. She didn't look away either, nor so much as blink, as she stared at him like he'd just put his foot in his mouth.

"In where?" Luke said. His footsteps loud and heavy as he threw himself into the mix. "What's he talking about?"

"Not a clue," she said. "Aren't you two supposed to be—"

The plane shook around them. Jakob reacted instantly, adjusting his stance and steadying himself, but Elizabeth was almost thrown off her feet. She fell forward, nearly dragging him down with her, only to thrust her arm up at the last second and grab onto Hobbs' vest.

"Alright," she muttered, dangling limply between them like a puppet with her strings cut. "Not tonight."

"Falling for me again, princess?"

Elizabeth lifted her head, giving Jakob a glare. "Zakroy."

There was no need to ask what that meant—the message itself was fairly clear. Shut up. Luke chuckled, held his hand out, and waited for her to notice it, let alone take it. The seconds ticked by until Shaw finally turned, giving him a hesitant glance before she gripped his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"Huh," Luke said, noticing the precise position of her left hand in his and her other close to his shoulder. "I thought you didn't like the tango."

She blinked, eyebrows furrowing, before the comment seemed to sink in. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she regained her balance. "I didn't say I disliked it, but I do prefer a partner who doesn't keep a stick up his arse."

"And just how do you know what's shoved up my ass?"

"I noticed it yesterday when I was pulling your head out."

"Ah. Yesterday. Not two weeks ago while you were checking me out?"

Shaw bit her bottom lip, as if she didn't know where to go with that one. Truthfully, neither did he. It was the first thing that'd come to mind—her making that comment to throw him off his game, and her antics in the warehouse kitchen. The kind of signs that would have suggested there was something going on between them, had they come from any other woman.

"Well," she said, letting go of him and stepping backwards to the safety of the lounge chair, "your arse is much prettier than your face."

There was that snark. The fist she couldn't help but swing every time one of them opened their mouths. "You keep talking like that, woman, and Pinocchio here might realize he isn't a real boy."

"Hobbs," Jakob warned.

He checked his watch. "Yeah."

Elizabeth sat mere seconds before the plane jolted again. She pressed herself into the couch, struggling to get the seatbelt secured. Yet through the window beside her, she caught a glimpse of a familiar, albeit dimly lit, sight.

Base Alpha.

"Ramsey, I can't—" Letty frowned at the PC monitor in front of her, its screen black. They'd been at this for half an hour and still nothing was working. "I can't see a thing."

"Give me a second. It's probably the connection. You'll be talking to Mia in no time."

"You sure?"

"No," Ramsey admitted, "but I've done this before. We just need…Hobbs?"

Letty turned around, searching for whatever Ramsey was talking about. She found herself staring at a black and white image on a screen, Hobbs taking up the centre portion of it. "Oh, shit."

His hand slammed against a button, and no less than a second later, a light on the wall began to flash, followed by the blare of a wailing siren.

"That's the alarm. Why is he—"

"Ramsey, we need to go. Now!"

On another screen, in the far corner of the surveillance room where they sat, stood Jakob, unloading something large from the trunk of a car.

"Wait," Ramsey said. "What…"

"The first thing I learnt in Basra, Letty, is that if it looks like a bomb, treat it as though it is one. Don't stand there fucking staring at it. Run or drive away as far as you can, as fast as you can."

Words from a previous life echoed in Letty's mind as she grabbed Ramsey's laptop and her wrist. "Let's go!"

Ramsey's brain caught up a moment later, finally allowing the two of them to rush out into the hallway and head for the emergency exit.

"Was that what I think it is?" Ramsey said, following Letty up and out into the cool night air. "We have to warn someone. They—"

"It's too late." Letty looked around before spotting her Porsche, parked by the warehouse's west side. The keys were… "Fuck! Is this thing backed up?"

"I cloned it last night. Why?"

Letty threw the laptop aside, not bothering to look as it struck the ground, and started running. "Come on!"

Ramsey gave the laptop a pained look before rushing to catch up. West of the warehouse was clear space for half a mile or more—no buildings or anything they could hide within to protect themselves, but beyond that was a row of buildings, and yet even more behind them.

"How long do you think we have?"

"However long it takes him to set that thing up," said Letty, feet pounding the asphalt, "and get outside the blast radius."

It felt like they'd run for hours before they finally came within reach of the first line of buildings. Orange strobe lights flashed within them, signalling the alarm that Hobbs must have triggered.

"That's not really an answer."

"Ramsey!"

Sharp pain shot through her sides and calves as Letty ran, breathing heavily. Any distance they could put between themselves and the warehouse was better than nothing, but all those windows—all that glass—would turn to shrapnel the moment that bomb blew.

They needed somewhere safer.

Somewhere…

Tyres screeched ahead of them as an SUV came flying around the corner.

Hobbs' Gurkha, in all its armored glory, with Little Nobody behind the wheel. "Get in!"

He pulled up in front of them, only waiting the few seconds it took them to climb into the car and shut the door, before he floored it and swung the car west.

"I was setting up the link for her to call Mia," Ramsey stammered. "We were…Hobbs—Jakob has a bomb. He has a bomb! Inside the…"

They parked behind one of the few brick buildings on the base, sitting almost parallel against its rear wall.

"Get down on the floor," Eric said, clambering over the centre console and into the rear seating area. "Come on! We don't have—"

"This better be a false alarm," Deckard groaned, rolling out of bed. He reached over and slapped the thin wall that divided his room from Owen's. "Oi! Get up."

"Piss off."

It'd taken them twelve hours to remove the ruined front of Owen's ramp car and replace it with a spare rig. And if that one was destroyed, well, it'd be days before they built another.

Deckard snatched his own keys from his nightstand and the pistol he'd carried all the way from their mum's house. The one that Hobbs had either ignored or somehow missed.

"Yo, anyone know what the hell is going on?" Roman groaned as Deckard stepped out into the motel parking lot. Dom, Tej and Brian all milled around as well, looking like they'd just rolled out of bed. "Come on, man, it's midnight. What's with all the—"

"Get down!"

They yelled as one—Dom, Deckard, Brian and Owen—voices overlapping as a bright light illuminated the distant sky, followed by a fireball that billowed out,

Chapter Text

As the grenade struck the road, Jakob's foot hit the gas pedal. There was nothing he could do now but cross his fingers and pray that no shrapnel came flying through the window.

Eyes forward, he kept his grip tight on the steering wheel, taking the corner at high speed. The tyres lifted off the road only to fall back down, keeping traction as he shifted gears.

There was no way he could lose tonight.

Not to Dom.

Or the rest of his team.

Those who'd replaced the dead and the old. Who knew nothing of the bodies Dom had left in his wake over the years. The people and lives destroyed because of him.

Or the egos.

Braga. Tran. Verone.

Jakob had researched them all, even the Reyes crime family, in case he found Hobbs on his ass, and now...

Well, Hobbs wasn't presently on his ass, but better safe than sorry.

And then there was the long list of Dom's sins he carried around in his head. The ammunition he'd use to destroy the asshole and his family.

"You need to watch out," Luke said. "They'll come at you from all angles."

"I'm aware of how they work," Jakob replied.

He hadn't spent the past several months getting acquainted with their files for no reason. If worse came to worst, he'd take them all down. Destroy every last one of them.

Then he'd turn around and do the same to Cipher. After all, several billion dollars was a nice payday.

"That doesn't mean you know how to handle them."

"You want to shut up?" Jakob said. "Or should I let you drive?"

Luke chuckled. "This is all you, pretty boy. You picked this fight, you finish it."

"Cipher picked the fight, not me. I just jumped in the ring."

"Keep—"

Headlights turned on, dazzling him. Their source was less than ten feet away, forcing Jakob to turn and take the next street. As he did, his eyes landed on the car now behind him and its driver.

Dom.

He scowled, only for another set of lights to nearly blind him. Jakob gritted his teeth as the headlights of the Shaws' McLaren bore down on him once more, all while Dom's own lights reflected in his rearview mirror.

Now, he was trapped, or close enough, anyway. Hobbs gripped the roof handle, bracing himself for impact. But instead of crashing, Jakob swerved to the right, forcing the Mustang into the gap between the Shaws and the sidewalk.

In the Challenger, Dom's eyes were fixed on Jakob's tail lights, his jaw clenched in determination. He couldn't let Jakob escape. Not after what he'd done. Dom picked up his radio, adjusting his grip on the wheel as he tailed the Mustang. "You think you can just walk away from this, Jakob?"

Jakob smiled, his gaze cold, calculating. "I'm the only one who will."

The Dodge's wheels skimmed against the curb—the space between it and the McLaren barely wide enough to fit through—threatening to wrest away his control of the car.

Luke glanced over his shoulder, staring at Dom as he inched his way closer. There was nothing they could do but run, and pray. If Brian and the others cornered them, they didn't have a chance in hell of escaping. Every one of them bar Ramsey was a skilled driver, and if things got worse than they already were, he and Jakob would quickly find themselves behind bars.

Or worse.

The Shaws would want to know why Luke was now working for the enemy. As would the whole team. The Agency. on the other hand, wouldn't be so nice about it when they decided to start asking questions.

"Whatever you do in the next five minutes," Hobbs said, "you better make sure it doesn't result in them catching us."

Elizabeth's pretty boy barely looked at Luke as he spoke. "Let's get one thing clear: I'm more than happy to throw you under the bus for my own survival, but if I walk on that plane without you? She won't be happy."

"Which 'she' are we talking about?"

"Both."

Cipher wanting him alive made sense, but Elizabeth less so. Shaw had every reason to wish for his death, yet the words coming from the adjacent horse's mouth left him wondering why. If Luke disappeared, there'd be no one standing between her and the money, let alone Elizabeth and freedom.

Jakob must have noticed some hint of confusion on his face, because he turned into the nearest cross street and floored it, simultaneously saying, "Elle cares about the kid. By extension, that means she cares about you. She might deny it at first, but as long as your daughter is in the picture, Elizabeth will go to whatever lengths are necessary to protect her."

Hobbs wanted to scoff and look away. Pretend he hadn't heard the words coming from Jakob's mouth, but the truth was undeniable when he thought about it. Shaw had been showing him sympathy, or some approximation of it, during the last two days. Something that had only come about after his daughter's kidnapping.

"Anyone found Letty and Ramsey?" Roman's voice suddenly came over the radio. "The smoke's getting so thick I can't see shit."

"Nah, not yet," came Tej's reply. "They ain't answering their radio neither."

Maybe it was just him, Jakob thought, but something sounded off about how casually those two were talking. Almost as if they didn't have a concern in the world, let alone their girlfriend in danger.

He glanced in his rearview mirror, making certain there were still two sets of headlights behind them. Dom and the Shaws were still there, tailing Jakob as closely as they could, yet again, it didn't feel right.

It felt like...

A set of headlights suddenly came to life in his peripheral vision.

Ah, there they were.

This was an ambush, albeit a poorly planned one. If they thought they could pull one over on him, they were sorely mistaken. Jakob looked at Luke and nodded. "Take the wheel."

Luke did without hesitation. He reached across, grabbing the steering wheel and keeping the Mustang steady as Jakob reached for something stashed in the space behind his seat. Whatever it was, he slipped it around his neck. Then the driver's side door was being pushed open as the car began to slow, allowing Jakob to bail out while Luke climbed across the centre console.

"Hobbs, can you hear me?" Pretty Boy's voice came from a small earwig jammed into Luke's right ear. "Keep leading them away. I need to get a vantage point."

"Sure." Not that Luke wanted to, but what other choice did he have? "Any particular direction?"

"Take them on a wild goose chase." That wasn't a hard task, was it? As long as Dom and the others weren't paying attention to him, Jakob could do what he needed to do without any interruptions. "Hold them off for ten minutes. I'll be done—"

From the smoke and darkness came a foot, sending Jakob crashing to the ground.

"Did you really think we'd follow you around for half the fucking night?" Deckard chuckled as he approached, staying far enough out of reach that when Jakob kipped up, there was still a good four feet of space between them. "You're done. This is over. So do us both a favour and choose the easy way."

Jakob frowned. Had Shaw made the same switch as himself, or had something happened that even he'd missed? Was Owen lurking around here somewhere, too? If so, where the hell was he? And how far up shit creek had Jakob paddled?

"Can someone go get me the princess?" Jakob said, turning away from Deckard. As pleasant as the easy way seemed, he'd never been one to turn down a fight. "I've got a dilemma on my hands."

A few seconds passed, then that familiar voice came through his own earwig. "...No, you can't kill my brother."

"That's not my question."

"Having a chat with your girlfriend?" Deckard said, giving Jakob a mocking smile. "I bet Cipher loves having you around. So which is it? The easy way or not?"

"Then get to the point." Elizabeth didn't sound impressed. Actually, she sounded irritated; like he'd just interrupted her during a spa treatment. "Please."

"Do I have your permission to beat Deckard within an inch of his life?'

"...Make it two."

"Okay. Before I forget, do you want me to tell him you said hi?"

"No."

Too bad. The words had begun to leave Jakob's mouth before Elizabeth had even replied. He smirked and sized up the nearly middle-aged former soldier, standing there as if Deckard even had a chance. "Elizabeth says—"

The sudden sound of footsteps was his only warning of the ambush. Jakob pivoted on his feet and swung his left leg up in a kick. His foot met Owen Shaw's stomach, sending him falling backwards.

At the last moment, Shaw caught himself and turned the fall into a roll. Owen sprang to his feet again, rushing at Jakob. There was nothing but hatred in those eyes, and sadistic glee. The look of a man who enjoyed violence.

No. Scratch that. A man who loved it.

Jakob dodged the first two punches and parried the rest. The flurry of blows that followed drove him backwards towards Deckard, who quickly joined in the fight. Jakob stepped left and turned, dodging Deckard's first blow, forcing them to approach him from the front.

This way they couldn't sneak up on him, or try any other little tricks.

"You go low," Deckard said. "I'll go high."

"Fine." Owen barely blinked as he stepped forward, closing the distance between them yet again. "Did he say what I think he said?"

"Yeah."

Deckard kicked, his leg swinging up. Jakob danced backwards, barely managing to avoid the blow in time. The outer sole of Shaw's boot skimmed against his cheek, but before Deckard lowered his foot, Jakob seized his ankle.

He pulled Deckard towards him, throwing him off balance and delivering his own kick. The elder Shaw grunted as Jakob's foot struck him hard in the stomach, and he toppled back like a falling statue.

At the last moment, Owen caught his brother, so Jakob attacked again. No kicks this time. He aimed a punch at Owen's face only to whip his knee up, too, striking him square in the balls.

He groaned and released his grip on Deckard, now stable, and stepped forward. Owen feinted two punches, neither of which Jakob fell for, then slammed his forehead into Jakob's face.

They ducked and dodged in rapid succession, trading the occasional blow. For every foot of space he gained, Owen took it back, never relenting as they fought.

All while Deckard just stood there. Maybe he was waiting, but in the back of Jakob's mind, he knew it wasn't that simple.

Shaw was watching him. Studying him.

Looking for any hint of weakness or chink in Jakob's armour.

Unfortunately for them, Jakob knew their own weakness all too well.

"Elizabeth," he said between strikes, "he's in position. Take the shot and the money is yours."

Deckard seemed to falter at that. He turned his head, looking towards the nearby rooftops. Owen almost hesitated, too. In that split second, Jakob seized the opportunity and punched him in the kidney.

Owen hit the ground like a ton of bricks, gasping in pain. Deckard spun around but it was too late. Even as he looked at the gun in Jakob's hands and pushed off with his left leg, intending to dodge, Jakob squeezed the trigger.

The bullet hit Deckard's left arm, tearing through his bicep and lodging in the bone. Shaw yelled in pain, and the woman in his ear screamed.

"No!"

He shot again, putting a bullet in Deckard's shin. Neither injury would kill him, but they'd cause him immense pain. Enough to slow the both of them down.

"Jesus Christ. What the hell is going on, Jakob?"

Hobbs.

"I've dealt with the Shaws." Jakob fired once more, hitting Owen in the foot. Owen yelled in pain, all of it picked up by Jakob's microphone. "Lose the team and come get me."

"Board this plane again," Elizabeth snapped, "and you'll be dead the moment you step outside the cargo hold."

There was violence in her voice, and fury. The unbridled rage that only came from seeing or hearing your family hurt and being utterly helpless to do anything.

"Relax, princess," said Jakob. "I didn't kill them. They're only injured."

"You also said beat them, not shoot them!"

God, she was pissed. Jakob would have to review the security footage once he was back onboard and see the look on her face. Learn for himself just how angry Elizabeth became in that moment.

"...Hobbs." She took on a calmer tone, yet her anger simmered just beneath the surface. Jakob could hear it in the way her voice wavered as she spoke. "Lose your tail. You've got ten minutes to get out into the desert and meet the plane."

"Unfortunately, Princess, you aren't in charge. He doesn't follow your orders, and I'm not done with Dom."

"Unfortunately," Elizabeth mocked, "not only did you waste your opportunity, you blew up my other car. So if you want to get off that base without being caught, I suggest you start running."

"You got something to say about this, Cipher?"

"Elizabeth is correct. You have ten minutes to reach the rendezvous point or you'll be left behind."

Jakob scoffed. "Because I shot her brothers?"

"Because radio chatter suggests they're minutes from scrambling an F-35. I told you to lure Dom out and deal with him. Now this delay is going to get us all killed."

"Shit." The risk of that happening had been in the back of his mind, but it wasn't something Jakob had given much thought. After all, this place was meant to be a black site. Those weren't usually afforded military protection. "Hobbs, I'll come to you! Where are you?"

Between a rock and a hard place, Luke thought. More specifically, the north side of the base, with half the team on his ass. Dom and Brian hounded him from behind. Tej and Roman hugged him on either side, trying to box him in.

"The next street over leads straight to the north fence," Luke said, grunting as Dom's Dodge nudged his bumper bar. The Mustang howled as he pushed it to its limits, searching for any kind of opening that might put some space between the five of them. "Run as fast as you can. I'll meet you halfway."

God help him, he wasn't going to save Sam, was he? If he didn't get off the base and get onboard that plane, his daughter was going to disappear. She would be lost, forever. The very last memory he had of Sam would be her, scared and crying, telling him she loved him.

Fine.

Ten minutes? He'd do it in eight.

"Hobbs, whatever Cipher has on you, we can help." Tej's voice came through loud and clear once again, just as he'd been trying to get Luke's attention for the last several minutes. "Talk to us, man. We're still a team, ain't we?"

Luke glanced at the GPS mounted on the Mustang's dashboard, showing Jakob's location. The white dot was moving in his direction as fast as humanly possible. Though the street itself couldn't be more than three blocks away, there was still a hell of a lot of desert to cover before they reached the rendezvous point.

"I know you, cop." Dom. Luke's grip on the steering wheel tightened and he pressed the accelerator harder, as if he could push it through the floor. "You wouldn't be doing this if you had any other choice."

Dare he respond and say yes? Would Dom know what had happened based on a single response? He reached for the radio microphone, mind wavering back and forth between the possible scenarios. The hells he'd have to endure if Cipher or anyone else caught onto what he was saying.

"Blink once if she's done to you what she did to me."

He couldn't speak or say yes...but blink? That he could do, in a manner of speaking. Luke flicked his turn signal on for a brief moment, letting the light flash only once.

Then it was off, and he was finally at Jakob's street. Out of opportunities and quickly running out of time, Luke jerked the wheel hard, taking the corner at high speed.

The Mustang seemed to almost fight his control, but he didn't let go. Its wheels somehow stayed on the ground, with the high beams illuminating the smokey street and its dark corners. Tej swerved to avoid colliding with him, mounting the curb instead. Roman pulled away to give him space as the Mustang swung across both lanes before Luke corrected it.

Dom and Brian were still on his ass, not letting up for a moment. He'd have seconds to pick Jakob up, never mind get them off the base...assuming they managed to leave at all.

"You bringing Toretto to me, Hobbs?"

No. That was merely an inconvenience. A necessary evil. They'd shake Toretto in the desert, provided he got there. Ignoring Jakob's words, Luke wiped his hand on his kevlar pants and said, "Shaw, you there?"

She made an assertive yet grumbling noise, like Elizabeth didn't want to be. Given what'd happened to her brothers, that came as no surprise. "Yeah."

"You want me to swing past?" Luke said, checking Jakob's location on his GPS. He was close now, but slowing down seemed like it wasn't an option right now. "See if those ugly sumbitches are alright?"

"…No." There was a crack in her voice. A waver. "You don't have time."

"Deckard took one bullet to the leg and one to the arm," Jakob interrupted. "I got Owen in the foot. Your brothers are fine."

"There are three arteries in the arm."

"And four in the leg from the ass down. I'm familiar with human anatomy, Princess, so trust me when I say they're alive. Might need some patching up but they'll live."

"You can't know that."

But he could. Luke reached for the radio clipped to his waist and switched it off. Cipher and the others wouldn't hear him now as Luke picked up the microphone for the Mustang's radio. "Dom?"

"Hobbs, what's going on?"

"Go to the end of the street," Luke said. "Turn left. The Shaws have been shot. They'll need an immediate medevac."

"What?"

"Jakob got overzealous."

It was the only way he could phrase it. A cheap tactic so he wouldn't beat Jakob to death before Elizabeth got to him.

"You want us to save that asshole?" Roman scoffed. "He killed Han. The other one almost took the rest of us out."

"You want this to end, Roman? You need those two alive."

"Hobbs—"

"Yes. Cipher did to me what she did to you, Dom, so until I get my baby girl back…"

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine—"

"Contact Deckard's mom. Tell her you need Hattie. She can help while those two get back on their feet."

"Hattie?"

Brian chuckled. "There's another Shaw, isn't there?"

"And she's a much prettier blonde than you are, O'Conner."

Luke slowed as he neared Jakob's location, but he didn't stop. The car rolled forwards, allowing just enough time for Jakob to run towards him, pull the door open and climb in. The second Jakob was inside and secure, Luke floored it. The tyres squealed, the two of them hauling ass as he spun the Mustang around.

It didn't matter if Cipher had heard all that. Frankly, he doubted she'd hold it against him. Her revenge against the Shaws required them being alive, not killed by Jakob's antics.

There was also a small—almost minuscule—part of Luke that didn't want to see the pain in Elizabeth's eyes if she lost her family while trying to save his.

"How long have we got?" Jakob said, looking at Hobbs. "Tell me you set a timer."

"Shut up and hold on!"

The Mustang's engine howled as they sped north towards the desert. If what Cipher had said was true and the Air Force was sending a fighter jet, they'd be dead before they reached cruising altitude.

Of course, there was always the chance Mr. Nobody and his men were bluffing.

But that was a risk not even Cipher would be willing to take.

"She said ten minutes, Hobbs. If we miss the window by one second—"

"We won't."

I won't.

He couldn't afford to. Surely Jakob knew that. Luke rapidly shifted from gear to gear until the Mustang's tyres hit dirt, kicking up a dust cloud that followed them out into the desert. Redlining, the tachometer's needle flickered back and forth over the edge of danger, like a bad reminder of what was behind them.

Roman, Tej, and a growing swarm of Jeeps.

Someone had called in the cavalry.

"We're almost there," Jakob said into his throat mic. "Where the hell are you?"

"Lose the army first."

"I don't think that's happening without cover fire." Luke checked the rearview mirror. "You don't have a machine gun that pops out of the trunk, do you?"

"No," said Jakob." Only my sidearm."

"Minus the three bullets you wasted." If he detected the pissed-off tone in Luke's voice, he didn't say anything. "As soon as we start shooting, they'll fire back. You can't miss or we're dead."

Jakob frowned, looking at the Mustang as if he'd married the thing. He sighed and popped open the glove compartment, revealing a black box with an LCD panel on it and a series of buttons.

"Bring the plane down, Cipher," said Jakob, somewhat reluctantly. "We'll board, ditch the car, and blow it up in their faces."

Luke eyed him but said nothing. As long as he was onboard that plane come takeoff—a plane which was still nowhere to be seen—he didn't care what happened to Jakob's goddamn car.

Or to Jakob.

"Hey! We're far enough out. Where the fuck is…"

At first, it sounded like thunder. A low rumble that gradually built up to a dull roar, then grew louder and louder until there was something flying over their heads. It screamed like a demon that'd just been unleashed; one hungry for blood, with unstoppable power.

The F-35.

Luke jerked the wheel hard to the left, swinging the Mustang around so it faced south. It seemed Cipher wasn't coming to pick them up.

Not anymore.

From this moment on, they were officially on their own.

Chapter Text

Whatever was going on out there, it didn't feel right. None of this did. Hobbs, the explosion, Jakob—it was all becoming one prolonged nightmare. A bad dream Letty wished would hurry up and end.

"Ramsey?" Letty coughed into her shirt, pressed over her nose and mouth to try and keep the smoke at bay. Thick, black, and choking, it'd reduced visibility to almost nothing outside of the SUV. "You got anything?"

"No," she said. "I think the antenna snapped off."

"Shit." Where the hell was Dom? Or, God forbid, Owen? Who knew how long it'd been, and neither one of them had shown up yet. Nor the rest of the team for that matter. "The door's jammed too."

"Have you tried using the headrests?" asked Ramsey.

"Windows are bulletproof," Little Nobody said, wincing where he lay. He'd been jerked back and forth during the explosion, almost cracking his skull open against the driver's side window. The bleeding had since stopped but the headache he'd gained persisted. "No way of breaking them."

Each one was made from an inch and a quarter thick sheet of glass-clad polycarbonate. They were strong enough to stop a .44-calibre bullet, and more than capable of taking a hit or three from a sledgehammer. Not even Hobbs could bust through that without effort.

"So we're trapped."

"Maybe. The others are out there," Eric said. "Give them time. They'll find us."

"Before or after we choke to death on this crap?"

"...street..." The radio squawked faintly, the voice barely intelligible. Ramsey let out a gasp and turned the volume up as high as it would go. "...left..."

The voice wasn't deafening, but it was enough to echo in the darkness and catch Letty's and Eric's attention.

"Shaws...been shot." Crackles and pops from static interfered with the signal, yet those words couldn't be mistaken. "Need a...medevac."

"Oh, shit." Letty looked at the radio, eyes wide. As if this night couldn't get any fucking worse, the only trained assholes on the team had apparently found themselves on the receiving end of one or more bullets. "Oh—"

Owen.

Sure, he was an A Grade piece of shit, but he was the piece of shit she'd called a boss for the better part of nearly four years. And despite what Letty told herself, there was still a part of her that wanted to return to the familiar.

To the old team who still lingered in the back of her mind on the hot summer nights when she was sitting in the yard with Dom's grandmother and the team, downing an icy cold beer and laughing at Roman's jokes.

Or the latest near death experience.

Half-drunk in the car yard with kebabs in hand, grease dripping down their fingers, and Jah reminding them how close they'd come to dying.

Ivory taking bets on whether or not Firuz would have a heart attack when he saw the state of their cars.

Owen sitting on the sidelines, silent yet always aware of whether or not he needed to step in. Shift the conversation to another topic before Klaus and Oakes got into an argument which would quickly escalate to a fight.

And her, Letty, the lone American, trying not to laugh as Beth—no, Vegh—sat beside her, providing both commentary on the growing tension between the two idiots and a small chips.

"Ramsey, try the radio again," Letty said. "See if they pick up. I'm going to—"

Little Nobody sat bolt upright and turned to look at the front windshield. "Does anyone else smell gas?"

"No, I can't smell anything except…"

Shit.

He was right. Beneath the stench of burning metal, rubber, and God knew what else was being consumed by the fire, was that unmistakeable scent.

Gas.

"We're not landing." It wasn't a question. Elizabeth turned to look at the blonde sitting adjacent to her and frowned. "I thought you said ten minutes and we'd be out of here."

"That was before we risked being shot out of the sky."

"By a pilot on your payroll?" she scoffed. "It's the middle of the night. Bureaucrats don't work that quickly."

Cipher smiled. "You really think I'd set all of this up as a test?"

Grasping the arms of her chair, Elizabeth pushed herself up with a grunt and walked towards the door. She couldn't spend another second in here. Not with the sound of those gunshots ringing in her ears and bile rising in her throat.

"I don't know what to think anymore," she said. Her stomach churned, throat tight with fear; it was taking everything she had not to let a single tear fall, or the pain that wracked her show. "Five years changes a woman."

"Elle." There was a seriousness to Cipher's voice. Elizabeth, silent, glanced over her shoulder in response. "You should know Hobbs broke rank. He contacted Dom. Medevac's en route. Your brothers will be fine."

That was an issue, but not the issue. The truth was she couldn't get that sound out of her head. The way Jakob had used her name as a distraction before he shot them. His absolute lack of respect for the pre-existing limits she'd put in place. The inferno of rage burning her up from the inside out.

She wanted to sit in the shower, break down and cry without anyone hearing her. Wrap her fists with tape and pound the punching bag in the armoury until her knuckles bled, or…

Or put three bullets in Jakob, just as he'd done to her brothers. See how he liked it when he laid there in the cargo hold, choking on his own blood. Better yet, pound his head with her fists. Show him what happened to people who harmed her family.

Elizabeth took a shuddering breath and stepped through the open doorway, out into the lounge area. She wiped her hand down her face, grabbed the Glock-19 pistol from where it sat on the couch, and took off for the plane's rear. Despite the onboard silence, her hands trembled and her heart beat wildly in her chest; eyes darting from side to side.

They hadn't landed, so Jakob couldn't be onboard, but later? What would happen once he was? When he put that gun to her head?

Fuck. No. That was the last thing she needed to be thinking about. Death was a worry for another day. One when the thoughts in her head stopped feeling like someone had put them in a blender.

She ascended the aft stairs to the upper floor one at a time, leaning against the railing. A camera sat mounted above the solid steel door, secured with a biometric lock. Beth lifted her head, looked up, and waited.

After a few seconds, the light on the lock turned green. She pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside, still clutching the pistol. To her right was a series of lockboxes and containers for extra storage. On the left, a makeshift shooting range with a wooden bench, earmuffs, a thick, concave steel wall several metres away, and a bullet trap.

Somewhere beyond all of that was the cockpit and pilots, hidden behind who knew how many locks and codes. Cipher always said she never made the same mistake twice—except when it came to allowing her enemies to live.

"There's a chair on the other side of the room." Cipher's voice came from a speaker mounted somewhere in the room. "I'll notify you when we're about to land."

"Well, that's awfully courteous of you."

"Elizabeth."

She tossed her pistol onto the bench, holster and all, and braced her arms on it. Elizabeth let herself lean forward, head coming to rest against the plane's inner wall. Her rib muscles ached from being stretched, but temporary pain was nothing compared to whatever her brothers were going through right now.

"Cyfrin."

Cipher had told her the story of her real name only once. Something about a peace-loving hippy mother who couldn't quite let go of that single Welsh ancestor from several generations ago.

"The only way to learn how far someone is willing to go—"

Whatever Cipher said next, she didn't hear it. Elizabeth's knees gave out. Her arms guided her down, slowing her descent, allowing Beth to avoid cracking her jaw on the bench.

First, it was Owen who'd gotten hurt, and Deckard. Hattie soon after. Now, the cycle had begun again. Her brothers were injured, and she had no means to protect Hattie from future harm.

Not until she could handle that gun and fire it without flinching or freezing. And if she could manage that, maybe she could protect that little girl, too.

As their father liked to say, the world was cruel and untrustworthy. A man's only true ally was himself, not his family or friends—they could be turned against him or taken away at any moment. But for all his talks about self-reliance and strength, there was one thing the old bastard had forgotten.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"If you go west—"

"We'll lose them in the smoke." Their sudden turn and subsequent run for the base had put some space between themselves, Parker, Pearce and the Jeeps. No one was expecting it, nor him to mount the kerb and push through a barely wide enough strip of park between two buildings. "It'll work."

Luke caught himself before he could say the words 'trust me'. He was sitting next to one of the assholes who'd likely helped Cipher kidnap his daughter—the mere idea of any trust existing between them seemed insane.

"Hobbs."

"The rules were thrown out the window the minute she took Sam."

He hadn't admitted it aloud before now, yet it was the truth. If Dominic Toretto, the Shaws, Mr. Nobody, or anyone else got between Luke and his daughter, mercy would no longer factor into his decisions.

The Mustang swung wide again as he turned the wheel, angling for a clear shot south. Going from grass to sidewalk to road had him bouncing in his seat and his head skimming the roof. The lack of visibility was a concern, but Hobbs had driven and walked through these streets a dozen times or more. He knew them like the back of his hand.

"Seems like they have, too." The briefest flicker of light appeared in Jakob's side mirror. He reached across, forcing the steering wheel to the right despite Hobbs' protests. Once again, they mounted the kerb, driving straight towards one of the damaged buildings with its shattered glass doors. "Lose them now or we're both going to get shot."

"You touch this wheel again, boy," Luke said, scowling at the rearview mirror, "you ain't gonna like what happens next."

"I'll take my chances." Better to be stuck with an annoyed lawman than torn apart by bullets. Jakob adjusted his earpiece and leaned back into the seat, bracing his body. "You know, Cipher, now would be a good time for a rolling pickup."

"Get rid of your tail first."

"We will. The highway in five, and this isn't a debate."

"Have you forgotten whose plane it is, Jakob?"

"No." There was a smug tone in his voice. The slightest hint of satisfaction at pulling the ace from his sleeve. "But I think you've forgotten something: the Devil wants their dues."

The Fed tensed up, opting to keep his mouth shut instead of talking. He shut off the car's headlights, plunging the street into darkness, and focused on doing as Jakob had said—losing their tail. Luke drove straight through the newly renovated doorway, driving over the field of broken glass, into the building.

It was a clear shot from the open foyer to the intact rear entryway. Not that the glass stood a chance of resisting a hit from a Mustang going over 100mph. The doors shattered on impact, raining glass down on top of the car as they burst through and out into the street.

"The Devil?" Luke guided them south once more. He couldn't see any cars in his periphery, nor ahead of them. For now, it seemed like the way was clear. "So you've stopped calling her 'princess' now?"

"Not Elizabeth." Jakob chuckled and shook his head. "She's a grumpy kitten compared to the psycho that you and Dom pissed off."

Interesting. "Want to fill me in?"

"I know he's more dangerous than Cipher." The run for the fence line was clear. A little too clear, actually. If he didn't know better, Jakob might have thought Hobbs was taking them into a trap on purpose. "And I know he's gunning for all of you, but he isn't ready. Not yet. When he is, you'll be wishing you were a little less competent than you are."

That'd be the day. "Smells like a steaming pile of bullshit."

"Believe it or not," Jakob said, propping his arm up on the door, "he was the first of your enemies that I approached."

The first? Jesus. Jakob had really done his research. Digging, too. There weren't many people alive that Luke could say both he and Toretto had pissed off. Not that he knew of, at least. Most of their enemies were dead or in prison, locked away where they couldn't cause harm. Had the Shaws done their job properly, Cipher would be among that number, too.

But it was too little, too late to play the blame game. What mattered was that they got it right this time. Once he and his daughter were safe, Luke planned on making sure Cipher was unable to hurt anyone else again.

"We're a minute from the fence and need a new gate," Luke said into his throat mic. "Got any spare shells?"

If Cipher didn't punch a hole through it, the quickest route would be to go east to the original breach and pray to God it hadn't been repaired properly. But if that didn't work, well, that would force them to circle back north, leave the base, and drive around the entire facility.

And there wasn't a chance in Hell they'd escape if it came to that.

"If I have to repeat myself again, Agent Hobbs, it'll be your daughter who—"

"Threatening Sam is the last thing you want to do tonight." His tone turned cold and unforgiving as Luke tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Genius here already pissed off your only ally, and if I had to guess, she's not sitting around drinking tea right now."

Elizabeth Shaw had held a grudge for fifteen years before she killed a man, so it was a cakewalk to imagine what she had planned for Jakob. The idiot who'd decided to shoot Deckard and Owen, all while the eldest of their sisters listened.

"Put a hole in the fence and pick us up, or I'll have Elizabeth put one in your plane."

Cipher went silent for a moment, then, "…It's your funeral, Agent Hobbs. You have three minutes and counting."

Luke smiled and headed straight for the fence. Headlights illuminated the road from either side of him, revealing where Mr. Nobody's buddies had been laying in wait, but it didn't matter.

Not anymore.

A single shell streaked through the sky like a comet before it struck the fence, tearing it apart. The metal bars were twisted and warped, crushed by the force of the impact, allowing the Mustang to skim between and over the top of them.

"Thank you."

As he turned onto the road, a hail of bullets rained down on them. They hit the outer panels and lodged in the windows, burying deeper with each shot, yet the armour held. Luke floored it again, guiding the Mustang east towards the empty highway.

And right on cue, the plane's nav lights came into view. The Jeeps were spread out behind them like an unwanted entourage, with Tej and Roman leading the way. Jesus. The two idiots were still following him. Didn't they know Letty and Ramsey were somewhere on the base, likely choking on smoke?

Picking up the mic for the car's radio, Luke said, "Turn around, Roman. You're going the wrong way."

"You think we're just gonna let you go? Nah, man, that ain't how it works."

"How about you tell that to Ramsey?"

"She can take care of—Tej!"

Cipher's plane swooped down, landing on the highway. It didn't slow for a second, but they were almost there.

Almost.

"Ninety seconds and counting," Jakob said, checking his watch. He gripped the overhead handle, looking between the now redlining engine and his hood. The first hint of smoke was beginning to seep out, wispy and barely illuminated by the flood of light that poured from the cargo hold. "Make it fast!"

They chased the now descended ramp, tyres touching the lip of it. Luke swore as he pushed the Mustang to its absolute limit, past the edge of the redline and into the danger zone. Jakob would be lucky if they didn't have to replace the entire engine block tomorrow, or the car.

"Hobbs—"

Roman's voice went unnoticed as a sputtering sound came from the engine, followed by another, and the sharp, god awful sound of metal hitting metal. Jakob couldn't know for certain, but instinct told him an exhaust valve and piston had just collided.

"Jump!"

Jakob was halfway out of the car before he shouted. He hurled himself clear of the car, digging his fingers into the ramp as the Mustang lost power. He didn't see if Hobbs got clear, nor anything else for that matter. All Jakob could do was drag himself upwards, face buried between his arms to protect his eyes from the wind that whipped at his body.

He climbed to the very top of the ramp, only to find himself face to face with the Fed, standing there like Hobbs hadn't just narrowly avoided death…but would he?

In the back of his mind, Jakob knew Hobbs could force him off the ramp and kill him in a heartbeat. It would be all too easy with no one around to see. Call it an unfortunate accident and leave it at that.

Instead, Luke held out his hand. Jakob took it without hesitation, pulling himself to his feet. The Mustang had rolled back down and turned sideways, blocking the ramp briefly before its momentum sent it rolling towards the army chasing their asses.

"You managed that with seven seconds to spare," Cipher said, gaining their attention. "Colour me almost impressed."

Luke didn't bother to respond. They had more immediate concerns, like getting clipped in before they took off. He rushed out and up to the lounge area. There was no sign of Elizabeth. The gun was gone, too, but he couldn't quite decide if that was a good thing or not.

At the rear of the plane, Jakob headed upstairs. Oddly, the lights were off, forcing him to feel his way past the storage containers to the row of five seats he knew was there. He took the one closest to the entryway as the plane made its return to cruising altitude, all the while listening for the slightest noise, the slightest indication he wasn't alone.

The lights turned on as they levelled out, revealing four empty seats and a holstered pistol.

"…Elizabeth?" Jakob called out warily. If she came lunging from the shadows at him with a knife, he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in her kneecap. "Elle?"

No answer.

"I'm not in the mood for games," he said. "So if you're thinking of trying to ambush me? Don't."

Still silence.

Maybe she wasn't here then. Though that was hard to believe given her threat and the gun. Either Cipher had allowed her up here, then, or she'd confiscated Elizabeth's weapon. Knowing his luck, it wouldn't be the latter.

Downstairs, Luke made his way to the armoury and started stripping off his gear. He wiped down his flak vest, not paying attention to the figure in the corner. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep and pray that Cipher didn't retaliate. That Sam stayed safe tonight, and every night that followed until he could find her.

Yet Luke paused as he turned to leave, his gaze going back to the woman who'd been nothing but a pain in the ass since the day they'd met. He couldn't tell if she was conscious or not, but Elizabeth hadn't moved an inch in the entire time Luke had been standing there. Almost like she was sleeping…

Or lying in wait.

"If I poke you with a stick—"

"What do you want, Fed?"

Well, that answered that question. The other one floating around in the back of his mind, however, remained unspoken. Luke wasn't quite sure whether or not he was prepared to go down that rabbit hole. Least of all go down it with her.

"I radioed Dom."

"I know." She turned towards him. The anger in her eyes and voice undeniable. "Why the hell would you do something so stupid? Cipher has your daughter. Did you even think of that before you—"

"You're welcome."

Just like that, Shaw fell silent. She slumped against the seat, shoulders low; the look of someone who'd been destroyed, was barely holding it together, and had no doubt been saved by her anger. God knew it was the only thing that'd kept him going on the day his team was killed.

"…Thank you."

He nodded. There was nothing that needed to be said beyond that. No matter what they thought of each other, Luke couldn't let that bald sumbitch die without kicking his ass at least once more. Plus, if they were to get off this plane sometime before her two weeks were up, he needed Shaw at her best.

"So where's your gun?"

She gestured at the ceiling. "Upstairs."

"I take it you don't know how to use it."

"That would be an accurate assessment."

"Alright. Stand up, come on. Consider this lesson one."

Elizabeth gave him a look as if this was the very last thing she wanted to do, but she got up anyway. Moving away from the chair, she stood opposite him. Her body was tense, and every now and then she glanced at the door like Shaw was anticipating someone coming through it.

He walked over and locked it, earning himself a glance, too. Elizabeth's posture changed as well—the subtle shifting of weight to her right leg. She was ready to run, or fight. Most people wouldn't notice the shift unless they were looking for it, but Luke Hobbs wasn't most people.

"Relax."

"If this is going to turn into that scene from Ghost—"

"Oh, good. Then you know what's coming next." Luke stood behind her, bringing his body close to hers. As awkward as it was going to be for the both of them, he had no intention of letting her form bad habits. "Right arm up, straight. Shoulder height. Make a fist."

"You're lucky I don't have a knife or I'd cut your balls off for locking me in a room with you again."

"Funny. Most women want to be locked in a room with me."

"Really?" Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at him. "I'd have thought the sight of an enormous wanker would drive them all away."

"Rotate your fist ninety degrees to the right." He knew what she wanted, but Luke wasn't going to indulge her and delay the inevitable any longer. He fetched his pistol from the bench where he'd left it, yet to be secured in the gun locker. "Shift your left foot forward about an inch, and bend your right knee slightly."

"How slightly?"

"A bit more than—Stop."

She did. Elizabeth watched out of the corner of her eye as he approached with the gun, not blinking until he was directly in front of her. Hobbs tapped her fist, which she released, then slid his gun into her grasp. She brought her left hand up and gripped it tightly, right index finger resting below the trigger guard.

"Your elbows need to bend as well."

Once again, Luke moved behind her. He grasped her arms, guiding them into the correct position. Despite the proximity of their bodies—the warmth of her skin on his—neither of them reacted. Elizabeth was focused. Her breath seemed a little too uneven for his liking, but he couldn't fault her. Unease became instinct given enough time.

"Good." He nodded and let go, stepping back. "We'll fix your weight distribution another day. Want to reset and try it again?"

"In a minute…This thing's not loaded, is it?"

"No. Chamber's clear. Magazine's on the bench."

"Okay." Elizabeth lowered her arms, still holding the gun, albeit now aimed at the floor and away from her body. "Alright, Swayze," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat, "how's this?"

Shaw positioned herself once more. She was vaguely close, but it wasn't correct. Thank God they had two weeks, because Elizabeth was going to need all the time she could get.

"Try again. Recoil would knock you on your ass."

"Fucking—"

She grumbled, glanced at him, and reset. Her second attempt was almost as poor as the first, as were the third and fourth. Luke adjusted her stance each time, yet even by the tenth try, Elizabeth was no closer to getting it.

Or so he thought.

A loud knock on the door caught their attention. Luke didn't turn, but Shaw jolted and pivoted on her heels. Her arms and legs bent, eyes fixed on the door, weight moving to the balls of her feet.

"Yeah?" Luke called out.

"I need to lock my shit up." Jakob. Oh, this wasn't going to go well. "You done?"

"…Yeah. Give me a minute." He tapped Elizabeth's hand. She loosened her grip, allowing him to take the pistol. Luke finished packing his gear away and went to unlock the door, giving Shaw a single glance that said 'play nice'. "Armoury's yours."

The door slid open, revealing Jakob. For all of two seconds, it appeared as if there wouldn't be any problems, till Elizabeth walked towards him.

"Elle—" Jakob began.

She seemed to step past at first, angling most of her body away from him. Her left hand, however, went straight for the combat knife on Jakob's belt. Elizabeth slid it free, flipped it around in her hand, and buried it in the lower half of his kevlar vest.

"Next time, it goes through your throat."

Chapter Text

Did she have a death wish? It was an earnest question. One that'd been kicking around Jakob's head for a while. She kept pushing every boundary she could, if not walking right over them, and now here she was again at the edge of fucking around and finding out.

"Here's how this is going to go, Princess," Jakob said, grasping her bicep before she could slip away, "so listen up. Hobbs is going to walk out of this room and go back to minding his own business while you and I get reacquainted."

"Excuse me?"

Elizabeth glanced at Luke. "You're excused."

"Oh, no. I don't care what bullshit you two have going on, I'm not walking out and pretending like whatever he's got planned doesn't involve turning you into a punching bag."

She scoffed, turning to face Hobbs. "If you think he," Elizabeth cocked her head toward Jakob, "would do that, you don't know him at all. And if you think I'd ever let anyone do that to me then you don't know me either. Get out, Fed."

"Elizabeth."

"This isn't an argument you can win." Her eyes narrowed, lips pursed together. Jakob released his grasp on her arm, allowing her to step out of the way. "I killed the last man who laid a hand on me, and no one's tried since."

Makarov? The fleeting thought passed through Jakob's head as he moved into the armory, undoing the straps on his vest.

"Woman, you don't know him from Adam anymore than I do."

"Maybe not, but I can spot a piece of shit at a hundred yards. He isn't one."

"And I am?"

"I didn't say that."

Hobbs frowned, like he couldn't figure out how this had turned into a them versus him situation in five seconds flat. Jakob sure could, though. Luke had all but laid his hands on her, cracking two ribs in the process. Right now, the Fed had Elizabeth's sympathy. However, a woman like her could only extend it for so long.

"Don't make me play the daughter card," Jakob said, tugging the knife free from his vest. He tossed both into a plastic tub under the bench and set to work on his belt and attached holstered sidearm. "We all know how trigger happy you are when it comes to Sam."

"Say that again."

The atmosphere shifted in an instant. Jakob turned around, facing them, all too aware that there was now a clear and present threat in the armory. That Hobbs was two seconds shy of ripping his spine from his body if Jakob crossed the line.

Because there it was—the Fed's dark side. The part of him Cipher would use like a goddamn trigger. She'd aim him in Mr. Nobody's direction, whisper 'bang' and the bullet would fire itself. No need to try and turn a vengeful man when you had the necessary leverage.

"H."

For a second, it seemed as if Elizabeth had just tasered Luke with a single breath. His spine went ramrod straight, head turning on a swivel to face her. She shook her head slowly, saying nothing else as he stared at her. The mix of pain and anger in Hobbs' eyes was all too apparent, yet the weakness...that was something new.

One syllable, one letter of the alphabet, and Elizabeth had him in the palm of her fucking hand.

Interesting.

"I'm not stitching you up if this goes south."

"Your concern's noted."

"Jesus," Luke said, wiping his hand down his face. "Whatever happens is on you."

Hobbs looked between the two of them then exited the armory. The door shut behind him, cutting off his last chance at stopping whatever came next.

"Reacquainted? You crossed the fucking line," Elizabeth snapped. "What part of don't—"

"The other knife." Jakob held his hand out. She was good, he'd give her that. He had been so focused on the one sticking out of his vest that Jakob didn't notice she'd stolen his backup as well. "Now."

"I only took the one."

"I'm not playing this game with you. Not tonight. Hand it over or I'll put a bullet in you as well."

The look in her eyes seemed to shift as Elizabeth walked toward him, hands by her sides and palms facing outwards, as if she was trying to prove something.

"You talk a good game, pretty boy, but you don't have it in you. Otherwise you wouldn't be standing there talking about shooting me."

"It's called giving you a chance."

"And that was your mistake." Beth came to a stop in front of him, well within arm's reach. Jakob was all too aware of every single twitch of her body, watching for the slightest indication she was about to try and kill him. "I told you if you stepped outside the hold, it wouldn't end well for you."

"Elle."

"Like I said," she whispered, leaning into him, "you aren't the type. You might tell yourself that if Cipher gave the order it wouldn't be an issue, but right now, you haven't so much as drawn—"

Jakob pressed the pistol's barrel against her stomach at the same time as she dug the tip of a knife into his throat. "What were you saying?"

"You're an arsehole." Elizabeth took a step backward, only for him to follow, then another, and another, until she was up against the door. "Two-faced lying son of a bitch."

"Speak for yourself, Princess."

"Oh, make no mistake, I'm just a bitch."

"So then, am I killing you," Jakob said, looking down at her, "are you killing me, or are we kissing and making up?"

"Bite me, pretty b—"

Her breath hitched in her throat as he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged on it. In response, she dropped the knife, grasped his shoulder and used Jakob as leverage to drive her knee up toward his balls.

"Fight first," he groaned, blocking her with his hand before she could strike him, "fuck after. That how you want to do this?"

"No." Elizabeth quickly shoved his right arm away from her and dropped to her knees to pick up the knife. "Just d…"

Jakob fisted her hair and angled her head back, staring down at Elizabeth as he holstered his pistol with his free hand. It seemed she truly hadn't been lying about that whole fickle thing. "You hit me in the balls, I'll make you kiss them better."

"How about I cut them off then?"

"Elizabeth." His voice was a warning and promise all wrapped up in one pretty bundle of violence. Jakob leaned down, grasping her knife-wielding hand, and dug his thumb hard into the soft tissue between her own thumb and index finger. "This isn't a fight you'll win."

"I've never won one before anyway. Don't imagine that'll change now."

She dropped the knife, hand instinctively flexing open as the pain became too much. He jerked Elizabeth to her feet, turning her around and shoving her face first into the door.

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

"Making you work for it." Kicking off the door, she threw herself into him, angling her body sideways. Naturally, Jakob caught her, leveraging the momentum and sending them both crashing to the floor. Elizabeth landed first, catching herself with her hands and rolling out of reach. "Pashyol na…"

Jakob hit the carpet facing upward and kipped up in the seconds that followed, putting himself back on his feet. Shaw frowned, grunting when he quickly closed the distance between them and pressed his heel into her tailbone.

"Enough. Last thing you need is another rib injury." Easing off the pressure, Jakob lowered himself to his knees. He straddled her waist, stopping her from moving so much as an inch in any direction. "And I doubt the doc is in the mood to be woken up because my balls need stitching."

"There'd be nothing left to stitch up so I wouldn't worry about that."

Oh, she was stubborn, wasn't she? Jakob grasped her hair again, tugging her head up off the carpet. "I'm going to move, and you're going to sit up on your knees. If I see your hands go anywhere I don't like, the response will be painful."

Elizabeth pulled her knees up under herself as Jakob moved back, sitting upright, keeping her hands where he could see them. He still had hold of her head, preventing Beth from moving any further than she was permitted to.

"You know," Jakob said, "you really need to learn how to fight. This amateur hour shit is going to get you killed one day."

"I have two cracked ribs. Injuries like that aren't very conducive to physical training."

"And yet you keep throwing yourself at me. As flattering as it is, that's not a good way to heal injuries either."

"Fuck you," she spat, the anger in her voice as clear as day.

"If you insist."

"You used me as a distraction so you could shoot them!"

"Yes," said Jakob, letting go of her. He sat back on the floor, propping one knee up and resting his right arm on it. "And you know why I did it. It keeps your asshole brothers out of the way and gives us a clear shot at Dom. No more Hobbs and Shaw to protect him now."

She turned around to face him, glaring, yet the look in her eyes wasn't anger but a glimmer of acceptance. "You could've warned me."

"So you wouldn't have had to listen?"

"What do you think?" Elizabeth winced as she lay back on the floor, pressing her hand to her ribcage. "I've avoided—Fuck, that hurt."

"No shit. You're supposed to be resting and instead you're trying to kick my ass." Jakob moved to her side, gesturing for her to tug her shirt up. Shaw did, lifting it before Jakob began sliding his fingers over each rib. He muttered under his breath, looking more annoyed than anything. "You're lucky it's only muscle soreness."

"Trying being the operative word. Like you said…amateur hour."

"We'll fix that up once you're healed."

"Oh, we will, will we?" A hint of a smirk tugged at her lips as she spoke. "Who said there'll even still be a we by then?"

"I did. Or do you want me to throw you over my shoulder, carry you upstairs, and show you there's a we?"

She let out a short laugh before wincing, propping herself up on her elbows. "I want you to kill Dom, bring this chapter of our lives to a close, and find a hotel with a penthouse suite where we can hole up while everything blows over."

"Whoa, okay, let me write this down. My to-do list was just you up until now, but if I'm going to kill Dom and be stuck in a hotel—"

"Jakob."

"You know, we should've had hot, angry sex while you were still pissed. The mood is just ruined now."

"By the fact there's a Fed standing in the corridor?" Elizabeth murmured, gesturing at a shadow stretching out from beneath the door. "Hobbs has been waiting to come through that door and kill you since I kicked it."

Shit. He hadn't noticed that. "Guess I'll be using you as a human shield tonight."

"First, can I use you as a human crane?"

Jakob stood, taking her hands in his and pulled Elizabeth to her feet. She hadn't cooled off by any means, but the worst of her anger had been temporarily assuaged. Although what he said next was more than likely going to set her off like an earthquake triggering a volcano.

"There's something else you need to know," he said, "about what happened tonight."

"Will it piss me off?"

"Yes."

"Jesus Christ." She looked torn, as if she didn't know whether to press him or not. In the end, Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "What is it?"

"Hobbs told Dom to call your mom and get Hattie involved. She'll be stateside in a day or two."

Elizabeth looked up at him, studying the completely serious look on his face. "You aren't joking, are you?"

"No."

"Then you know what will happen if you or anyone else touches my sister."

He nodded. There were certain lines that even Jakob wasn't willing to cross—this was one of them. Not out of fear of reprisal, or the knowledge that whatever morals Elizabeth still clung to would be completely thrown out the window for the sake of revenge, but respect.

Hattie was her Jesse, and there was nothing Jakob wouldn't have done for his little brother.

After all, he'd found Lance and put that paralysed piece of shit out of his misery.

Then there was Leon.

Jakob chose to leave him alive. Perhaps it was out of respect for the friendship he and Jesse once had, but the message he'd delivered to Leon had been clear as day.

Leave while you still can and never come back.

"So," said Jakob, reaching for the door handle, "your room or mine?"

"His."

Well, he couldn't say he'd seen that coming.

Jakob opened the door, revealing Hobbs standing there, staring at them. Beth took one look at the Fed before she walked up to him, not bothering to even adjust the angle of her head.

"We need to talk."

It all looked absolutely ridiculous—her effectively speaking into Hobbs' chest—but it had the desired effect. He walked backwards with Elizabeth dogging him step for step until they reached his room.

"In there. Now."

There was nothing in her tone to say it was a suggestion. Nor did Hobbs take it as one. He stepped sideways, leading her inside his room. Elizabeth slid the door shut behind them, taking up position against it.

"You want to talk, Shaw? Talk."

"Shut up. You don't get to play the angel after what you did tonight."

Luke scoffed. Whatever Jakob had told her, it'd clearly shifted her attention onto him. "You mean save your brothers' asses?"

"I mean telling Dominic Toretto to call Magdalene and get my sister involved. I don't care what the two of you have going on, it's no reason to drag Hattie into this mess! You want to sleep with her? Go ahead. Just don't get her killed!"

He should've known it'd be something along those lines. What else could get a Shaw fired up like this except messing with their family? "She's a thirty-three year old woman, not a sixteen year old girl. You don't have to protect Hattie. She can handle herself."

"Believe me, I know how old she is, and it doesn't make a difference. Hattie is my little sister. She always will be."

"Then here's a question: do you know Hattie's been working for MI6 since she graduated from Oxford?" Luke stood, taking a step toward her. If Elizabeth thought he'd apologize for telling Dom to play the ace up their sleeve, she had another thing coming. "And here's the next one: how long has it been since you two were even in the same room together? Seventeen years? Do you even know a goddamn thing about the woman Hattie's become since you abandoned her?"

Maybe it was cruel to bury that many knives in Elizabeth's heart all at once, but he wasn't about to stand there and take any amount of bullshit from an overprotective, mouthy pain in the ass.

Yes, Hattie was her sister, but what the hell did Elizabeth know beyond that? All Shaw had done was bounce from prison to prison and work for the mob, always running away from the very person she claimed to be protective of.

Or perhaps that was her limited fucking understanding of protection. Gaining what little power she could and using it to her advantage.

As if Shaw ever had a chance of success.

"You want to protect Hattie?" Luke said, bracing his hand on the door. "Get me off this plane, help me save Sam, and learn to use a gun. Knives aren't going to cut it when Cipher sends Jakob to take you out."

"Aww, look at the peacock all puffed up and preening." Shaw smiled as she spoke. Actually smiled, like his words hadn't sunk in at all. What the hell was wrong with her? "Did it take you all day to prepare that little speech? You know what, I bet Cipher slipped her hand up your arse and played you like a puppet while she wrote it for you."

"Look at me? You don't even give a shit about Hattie, do you?" It was so goddamn obvious now. All of this was about her tiny, fragile ego. "You just want to be the Shaw—sorry, half Shaw—who finally takes Cipher down."

Elizabeth suddenly ducked under his arm, moving toward his bed and the phone on the desk. The one with footage of Sam on it. Luke turned around as she picked it up and started typing.

"Hey! Leave it alone! What the hell are you—"

She held the screen up to show him the message she'd written. I'm not content to just steal Cipher's money anymore. I'm burning everything to the ground.

Visible confusion crossed his face. Luke read the words again, eyebrows pinching together the more he stared at what she had written. Then Elizabeth lowered the phone and typed some more, allowing him to read it only once she was done.

So when do I get lesson two? If you want me to use a gun, you're going to have to teach me.

Wait…what? Luke snatched the phone, erasing what she'd written and typing up his own reply. Are we arguing for real or is this a set-up?

Shaw made a so-so gesture then helped herself to his bed, sitting down and stretching her legs.

"Get out, Elizabeth."

She looked up at him and the screen in his hand. Luke's new message was as straightforward as possible. He wanted to know exactly what she had planned. Every detail.

No more bullshit.

No more keeping him in the dark.

No fucking mind games unless he was in on them. If they were going to do this, Luke needed full transparency. So either she got onboard the Hobbs train or this scorched earth plan of Shaw's happened without him.

"If my sister gets hurt, Hobbs, I will make you regret ever touching her."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

If God was watching right now, he was laughing his ass off. Here she was in a hospital bed, hooked up to intravenous drips, and next to her, like deja vu, sat the man who'd once taken everything from her, including her memories. "You shouldn't be in here."

"Neither should you." Owen Shaw sat forward in the chair Dom had placed at her bedside. The one her husband should have been sitting in. "Yet here we are."

"What do you want?"

He reached toward her face, only to brush a loose lock of her hair back out of her eyes.

One gesture and suddenly they were back in that garage, with Owen standing there, telling her that if something happened to Letty of all people, he might find it slightly harder to bear. Showing her that despite the black void he called a soul, there was something still human inside him. Something not completely marred by blood and violence.

At least that was what she'd thought until that day on the bridge and the moment Owen showed his true self.

"What every Shaw wants."

He looked at her as if he expected her to understand the implication.

Letty did.

"Payback."

There was no reason to say another word. Letty knew what he was planning to do, and to whom. If Shaw didn't kill Jakob, he'd make that asshole suffer at minimum. Every bullet returned to sender.

"What about your..."

The word 'sister' died on Letty's lips as the door to the room opened and Dom walked in, two cups of cheap coffee in hand. He didn't say anything as Owen pushed himself to his feet, collecting the crutches that leaned against the back of the chair.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," Owen said. "Take care, Letty."

"You too."

As half-hearted as it sounded coming from her, right now Letty meant every word of it. Try as she might to ignore the reality of their situation, there was no denying that the Shaws had been their lifeline.

One that was now severed, no thanks to their enemies.

"Hey," Dom said once they were alone, giving Shaw's presence no more attention than he would a shadow on the wall, "are you alright?"

"Yeah."

No.

If Letty knew Owen Shaw as well as she thought she did, he wasn't going to sit around in this hospital for any longer than necessary. Screw his injury and all the other shit he was dealing with right now, there was business to attend to—someone in need of killing—and God help anyone who got in his way.

Dom looked at her with those kind eyes that said he could talk to her about anything and squeezed her hand. "Letty."

"I'm fine." God knew she wanted to tell him what she suspected, what might very well happen soon enough, but that wasn't Dom's problem. It wasn't hers either, for that matter. Owen could look after himself. "Really. How's everyone else?"

"Alive." But right now Dom didn't want to think about the rest of their team, or why Owen Shaw had been in his wife's room. "Letty..."

"We can't stay here."

It'd been ticking over in his head, too. If they followed Mr. Nobody's advice and went to some other base, what were the odds Cipher would track them down all over again? No, they had to keep moving.

And they had to find Sam.

Without her, Cipher would have nothing on Hobbs. No leverage, no power over him—the Fed could come home instead of worrying about his daughter. All they had to do was find a child-sized needle in a haystack.

"I know." Dom squeezed her hand again. Not so much to assure Letty as himself. Once she was up and out of bed, along with the rest of the team, he'd make that call and get them some much needed help. "So what did Shaw want?"

The words came out of her without hesitation. "He's leaving."

"What?"

Letty took a breath and continued, "Owen wants to go after Jakob."

With a hole in his foot? It sounded stupid, and the exact kind of thing that a Shaw would do. Clearly he'd have to make that phone call sooner rather than later before he had two angry women breathing down his neck.

"Shit." Dom pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed a number he had committed to memory. He'd told himself that using it would only ever be used as a last resort, in an emergency, and it seemed that time was now. As the phone rang, Dom switched over to loudspeaker and waited for the call to be— "It's me."

"Well, I can't say I ever wanted to hear your voice again, Toretto. What's happened?"

"Your sons were shot. Hobbs said to ask for Hattie's help."

"...You hear that, sweetheart?"

"How bad is it?" said a voice Dom could only assume was Hattie. "And why isn't it Luke making this call?"

"Cipher kidnapped his daughter." He paused to let the message sink in. The reality of what awaited the two Shaw women when they finally arrived. If ever there was someone Dom didn't want to fight again, it was the Fed. Not because he couldn't hold his own in a fight, but because of what it meant—Hobbs would no longer hold back. "He's working for her now."

"Oh, God. Sam...I'll be on the next plane there."

"And my daughter?" Magdalene. "Where's Elizabeth?"

Letty snorted, like she couldn't believe the question had even been asked. "That bitch betrayed us and joined Cipher. She helped Jakob shoot your sons, and she built the bomb that almost killed us."

If ever there was a time when she should have shut her mouth, this morning had been it. Elizabeth could all but see it in his eyes now—disgust, repulsion, outright loathing. If Hobbs hadn't thought she was a monster earlier, he surely did now. She could even feel it in his touch, too. In the way that he held her a little less tightly than before, as if her criminality might rub off on him.

Yet no matter what he did, Elizabeth remained focused. Eyes fixed on a target taped to the ramp that sealed them off from 27,000 feet of open air. Grip tight, arms close to her body as she lifted the Glock to eye level. Jakob had told her to do that, and it seemed to make aiming much easier.

"Good," said Hobbs, glancing at his watch. "Let's call it a day. We'll pick it up tomorrow."

"Sure."

Even if Hobbs was disgusted, though, what the hell did she care? He was nothing more than a temporary annoyance. Someone who would be out of her life in a little over two weeks, and then Elizabeth would be free to go wherever she pleased...and that'd be right back onboard this plane until the day Dominic Toretto lay rotting in his grave.

Elizabeth holstered her Glock, exiting the cargo hold before the Fed could get another word out. The clock in the galley said it was barely half past four in the afternoon. That meant Jakob would be lurking somewhere, or in the security room watching the camera feeds and listening to the mics.

If she was lucky, he'd be in his room and she wouldn't have to look him in the eye yet. If Elizabeth was unlucky, there'd be a brief two minute window before she found herself getting hauled off to some corner of the plane.

By some miracle, she managed all of four minutes alone before he popped up like some groundhog. Standing outside of the armory, black duffel bag in hand, Jakob was dressed in his usual protective gear.

"Going somewhere?"

"No, but you are." He threw the bag at her feet and said, "Get dressed. Now."

Oh, fuck. Elizabeth muttered and unzipped the bag, pulling out the pile of protective gear inside it. Kevlar bodysuit, vest, gloves, boots—was this some kind of a joke? She had two cracked ribs. Going on any kind of mission was presently outside of her limited range of capabilities.

"You're going to have to zip me up."

"That's not a problem." Jakob's tone was serious, yet the hint of a smirk on his face said he'd enjoy the show, too. "Need me to undo those buttons for you, too?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and got dressed right there in the hallway, letting Jakob do his part when she had the suit on, and when it came time to get that ridiculous vest on. She strapped her Glock to her right thigh again, gloves and boots pulled on last. "What's going on?"

"How's it feel?"

"A little tight around the chest." Maybe it was her ribs talking, but the pressure of the vest and straps felt uncomfortable to say the least. "Jakob?"

"Let's go."

They were still at cruising altitude. There was nowhere to go unless she jumped off the plane's ramp, and the only reason Elizabeth would ever do that was to get off this flying sardine can. She frowned in disapproval but followed him anyway, away from their sleeping quarters and around, down the hallway past Cipher's office and toward the front of the plane.

Turning left suddenly, Jakob led her through a secure doorway into an open room. PCs and monitors lined desks on the far side of the room where Hobbs sat, headset on as he stared at the screen in front of him.

What he was saying, Elizabeth didn't want to hear, but there was no escaping it now. Nor the fact Cipher sat to their right, one leg crossed over the other with her laptop braced on her thigh.

Jakob stopped just beside Cipher, gaining her attention through his presence alone. The hacker looked up, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

"You're a little old to be playing dress-up, Elle."

"Believe me, this wasn't my idea." Hobbs didn't turn around when Beth spoke, and thank God for that. The last thing she wanted was to hear a smartass comment come out of his mouth. "Your overgrown manchild is responsible."

Cipher chuckled and shook her head, returning her attention to her laptop for a brief moment. "Alright, Jakob. You've proven your point."

"And what point would that be?" asked Elizabeth. She fixed her attention on the only man in the room presently looking at her, arms crossing over her vest. "That I'll jump when you say to?"

"The point," Jakob said, stepping toward her, "was you don't look like a very nice woman. Put you in tac gear and it seems you come close to almost psychopathic."

Elizabeth's laugh was genuine and light as a smile spread across her face, and even he couldn't help but turn around for a moment. Hobbs stared, frowning, at the three of them acting like this was some fucking comedy club.

"Owen and I both get our good looks from Dad." Shaw shrugged, still smiling. As much as Luke was focused on Sam right now, there was something about her voice—her smile—that tugged at him. "And he is the worst of all of us."

It was like this morning all over again, only Elizabeth seemed vulnerable in an entirely different way. She was exposed now. Completely transparent. Her guard had come down, allowing him to see past the facade and lies that kept this smiling woman hidden from sight.

"Dad?" Sam's voice crackled in his ears. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, baby." Luke forced his eyes back to the screen and away from the giant distraction behind him. Why the hell was she in here anyway? "Sorry, Daddy got a little distracted. What were you saying?"

"Mani-pedis at the mall," Sam sniffed, wiping her eyes. "And Waffle House. As soon as we're together."

"Sounds like a plan." Hobbs tried to force a smile but it felt so goddamn fake and wrong. It was like all the energy had been drained out of him, and Luke knew the reason why. Almost his entire day had been spent trying to whip Elizabeth Shaw into shape, and no matter how he went about things, it was proving to be both physically and mentally taxing. "I'll see you soon, baby. I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad," Sam said.

He wrapped up the video call before the tears welling in Sam's eyes could fall and break his heart. Luke took a breath, got to his feet and turned to face the woman whose brother set off the chain reaction that'd caused his worst nightmare to come true.

"Shaw." Elizabeth looked at him, but he didn't give her time to react. Luke didn't want to hear so much as a single 'fuck you' from her right now. "We're done."

The smile on her face dissolved in an instant. Luke walked out, shoulders heavy, and shut the door hard behind him. If Shaw tried to argue, he didn't hear her, and if he said anything, she didn't hear that either.

"What the fuck was that about?" Jakob looked at the door, brows pinched in confusion. "You do something to piss him off, princess?"

"I don't know." She tugged at her collar and frowned, unzipping it to the top of her breastbone. The suit and protective gear, while comfortable, was making Elizabeth start to sweat in places she didn't normally sweat. "Probably."

"Then you might want to consider some ass kissing. See if you can't change his mind."

Kiss his arse? Yeah, right, like that would happen. She'd never go crawling on her hands and knees, pleading with some bastard, just because it was more convenient for her to work with Hobbs than not. "I don't think so."

"...As entertaining as this party is, I need you two to take it elsewhere," Cipher said, interrupting them. "Now."

"Alright. See you around, boss."

Jakob was the first to leave without argument, leaving Elizabeth standing there. She remained unmoving and stared at Cipher, and Cipher stared right back.

"Elle."

Oh, no, she wasn't going anywhere until there were some answers given. "Why was Jakob proving a point?"

"We have a bet."

"On whether or not I'll pull the trigger?"

It seemed like the logical answer. There wasn't much else to bet on onboard Air Cipher, and if Elizabeth had to guess, the bet was merely provocation. A push to get her to become what Cipher wanted without all of this being over. A way to nudge Elizabeth into growing that spine and start working for her earlier than agreed upon.

"No. Nothing as banal as that. Now if you don't mind, I need to have this meeting in private."

Elizabeth zipped up her suit, brushed her bangs back behind her ears and took up position behind Cipher's chair. "We're not done talking, but I can wait."

"In the hallway, not here."

The tone of Cipher's voice said there was no room for negotiation or discussion, so she walked out and waited opposite the door. Five minutes later, Cipher finally deigned to grace Elizabeth with her presence. She stepped out of the conference room and locked the door, their gazes meeting for one very brief moment.

"Comfortable?"

"What the hell is this?" Elizabeth gestured to the kevlar she wore. "Jakob tells me to get dressed so I do. Now you're making bets and proving points? Why?"

It was a valid question. One that Cipher wouldn't answer, however. Elle didn't need to know what went on behind the scenes, or anything outside of her purview for that matter. She was a knight in the chess game that Cipher was playing with Dom, not a Bishop. All Elizabeth had to do was listen, go where and do what she was told, not try to play the role of advisor.

"You can go back to your room now."

"Oh, can I? Am I dismissed then, ma'am?"

"Elizabeth."

"You don't need to play me."

"Yes, I do, otherwise you'd stand here for hours arguing with me like you're doing now," said Cipher, "and nitpicking the details instead of getting the job done. That's why you're here and not in Moscow. You got caught up in Makarov's web rather than kill him the day you landed, and for the next nine years you wasted your life. Am I wrong?"

"Sod off."

"You turned into your mother," she continued as Elizabeth's right hand went for the Glock, and for a moment it seemed she had the balls to use it. "Struggling to keep your head above water. Neck deep in shit and eyes closed so you wouldn't have to look at it."

"You think I'm ashamed? I did what I had to. I did whatever it took to—"

"Did you?"

If Elizabeth wanted a fight, she'd damn well get one. It just wouldn't be a fight that she had a chance at winning. Perhaps she'd forgotten but all those dirty little secrets Elizabeth had once confessed to still floated around in Cipher's head, like daggers waiting to be used.

"Is that what you tell yourself in bed so you can sleep when the nightmares come back?" Cipher said. "You were wrapped around Makarov's finger. You went there to kill him and what a surprise, you fell in love with him. He killed your mother and then he seized the opportunity to ruin you."

Cipher couldn't help but smile as the pain written on Elizabeth's face turned into fury, yet she never drew the gun on her thigh. Not even as Cipher stepped closer and lowered her voice.

"You were a glorified whore, and you adored him. You worshipped the ground he walked on, and for what? It earned you nothing but pain."

"Is that what you think?" Fury became a cold smile, as calculating and knowing as any she could wear herself. Elizabeth tilted her head, gaze underlined by something cruel and vicious. "Everything I went through was growing pains. Did it give me nightmares? Yes, but if that's the price I had to pay then it was worth it."

Catching herself before she could even ask the question of what exactly was worth the pain, Cipher chuckled as Elizabeth turned her back and walked back down the hallway toward the midsection of the plane.

The first thing she saw was Hobbs sitting on one of the lounges, hands clasped together and bent in half. Elizabeth made a beeline for him, helping herself to the adjacent seat. She didn't speak or make so much as a sound until Hobbs lifted his head and looked at her.

"I told you we're done," he said.

"Why?"

"Have you seen the way you are with them?" If she was on his side, he was a fucking clown. What he'd witnessed just a few minutes ago was proof of that, and the evidence was undeniable. "How long were you planning to screw me around before you finally used that knife?"

"How about I just screw you instead? You want to get your dick wet? Clear your head? I'd have you coming in the cargo hold in five minutes."

"Clear my—"

"Or should I borrow a wig and you can pretend I'm Hattie? We're about the same height. Close your eyes and you won't notice the difference."

If the look on his face had been disgust before, it was pure revulsion now. Hobbs clenched his fists like he was about to do something, then flexed them and went to stand. Elizabeth stopped him in his tracks, pushing him back against the lounge. She straddled his lap, resting her weight on him, and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Get off."

"Stop overthinking things, Hobbs."

God knew she was doing that, too. She was reading into every single twitch of his face and the sound of his voice. Trying to figure out exactly where they stood. Making the kinds of assumptions that Cipher was no doubt hoping she'd make. Playing into Cipher's hands like some idiot who couldn't see what was right in front of her.

"Shaw."

Elizabeth leaned down, bringing her lips as close to his ear as she dared. "Pick me up and take me to the cargo hold."

He picked her up, alright, and shoved her off. Luke glared at her, teeth grit, body tense and ready in case she tried to dry hump him again. "I'm not Jakob, so how about you go fuck him like you tried to the other day?"

"You want me to say it?" Shaw righted herself, staring right back at him. This time, she didn't try to touch him. "Ask me. I'll tell you as many times as I have to until the message sinks through your thick skull."

Ask her what exactly? Whose side she was on? If he could trust her or not? The exact time she'd betray him down to the millisecond? No. Whatever came out of her mouth from now on was a lie, no question about that. Luke stood, putting some desperately needed distance between them. "Stay the hell away from me."

She waited all of ten seconds to follow him straight down to the cargo hold. Luke could hear her stalk him like a bad smell he couldn't get rid of. It was pathetic. Truthfully, it was starting to piss him off, too.

"Woman, I told you to—"

Every pound of her slammed into him, making his spine hit the wall. He grunted in surprise and went to push her back but something inside Hobbs wavered. Maybe it was the look on her face, or the fact Elizabeth proceeded to draw her Glock and toss it aside.

Damn it.

What the hell was it about her that made him hesitate and second guess himself? The moment he'd crashed into her back at the base, Luke had felt the world come falling down on his shoulders. He was a mean sumbitch, not a cruel one—leaving her in that wreckage to fend for herself would've been a step too far, no matter what he thought of her.

She wasn't Reyes, after all. Her sins and crimes were minor in comparison, and everything she'd done following her arrival at the base was no doubt tied to what Luke himself had asked of her. Perhaps in the beginning Elizabeth was driven by pure self interest, but telling him about Jakob's arrival...surely there was some shred of respect for the deal she'd struck with him in play that night.

"We can stand here and you can pussyfoot around the issue or we can go into the cargo hold and talk. It's your choice."

"Shut up, Elizabeth."

Luke grasped her thighs, picked her up, and hauled her inside the cargo hold. He carried her straight to the SUV's rear door and braced Shaw against the car's side while he popped the door open. As soon as there was enough room, he all but threw her onto the floor of the SUV. climbed in after her, and closed the door.

If thousands of dollars worth of armor and reinforced glass wasn't enough to soundproof the goddamn car then they had more issues than just a lack of space.

Shaw helped herself to a seat against the side of the car, her right knee bent and arm resting atop it. Luke tested the door to make sure it was shut properly then leaned his weight against it, stretching his legs out so they wouldn't cramp up or fall asleep.

"If you lie to me," Hobbs said, "I walk."

"You asked for full transparency. You'll get it."

Elizabeth tugged at the zipper, struggling to slide it down again, then shifted her attention to her vest. Cursing under her breath, she struggled to find the straps and get them undone. The way Elizabeth went straight for where she thought they'd be told him she was familiar with the layout of the flak vests he wore, but that one? Not a chance.

"Piece of…" She looked down, finding the clips and releasing them. Elizabeth lifted the vest off, setting it aside before she gripped her collar and tugged at it. "Why the fuck did I put this thing on?"

"You met Cipher in Cuba two years ago."

"Yes."

Luke could see the zipper was caught on its own material. Nothing short of brute force would get that thing open now, or a knife. Something she clearly didn't have on her. "Was your plan to get revenge on me?"

"Why don't you ask me a question which you don't already know the answer to?"

"So that's a yes."

"For eighteen months, I was in a seven by twelve concrete cell for twenty-three hours a day. A cell you put me in. Yes, of course, that was the plan."

"Did your plan involve my daughter?"

"No." Elizabeth gripped her collar and began pulling as hard as she could. The zipper broke slowly, giving way, allowing Shaw to pry the teeth apart until the kevlar suit was open down to the top of her breastbone. She freed her hair from the elastic she wore, too, and sat back. "I didn't know she existed until now."

"Are you going to betray me?"

The look on Shaw's face turned serious, yet she didn't meet his gaze once. She stared out the side of the car instead, fingers drumming against her leg. A minute passed before she took a breath and finally fixed her attention on him.

"Yes," Elizabeth admitted, "but not until your daughter is safe."

"Okay."

Why he'd expected her to say no, Luke wasn't sure, but the thought had entered his head. Maybe it was some shred of hope that this ally thing would last a little longer, or maybe he was simply tired of having partners that he couldn't trust.

Luke wanted—No, he needed someone to have his back when this all ended in yet another ball of flames. The waiting, the hoping and crossing his fingers, all of the pain lodged in his chest right now, would eventually become too much.

When it did, someone would have to be there to catch him and stop him from falling to pieces. From taking his gun and finishing the job himself…even if that someone's name was Shaw.

Chapter Text

Hobbs would never admit it aloud for as long as he lived, but she was right...

He didn't have the luxury of engaging in sanctimonious bullshit anymore.

It was a truth he'd accepted the night they blew up the warehouse, yet it hadn't sunk in until her words from pizza night came back to haunt him.

You're in Oz, Dorothy. Adapt or lose your kid.

When phrased like that, it became all too simple. As much as the law was part of him, it would have to be thrown out the window if he was going to have any hope of rescuing Sam—the beautiful girl whose photo he stared at on his phone.

Luke had taken it yesterday when his daughter gave him her best smile. It wasn't nearly as bright and joyful as usual, but considering the circumstances, he couldn't blame her. No, the fault for that would be laid at Cipher's feet where it belonged, and Jakob's, if he ever found out that asshole had been involved.

He stood, pushing his chair back as the coffee machine beeped. It was a little after four o'clock in the morning and he needed all the caffeine he could get to keep him awake for the next several hours. Anything to give him the strength to deal with the pain in his ass who would soon come stumbling into the galley, looking like she'd just crawled out of her grave.

And right on time, Elizabeth walked in through the front door. Hair messy, tank top caught in her sports bra, shorts thankfully not riding low, and eyes half-closed like she was about to pass out any second.

"There any hot water left?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Thank God." Squeezing past him, Shaw pulled out two ham and cheese croissants from the fridge, took a bite from each, and exited stage left like a squirrel hoarding food. No hello, no good morning, just straight to business. The kind of no b.s attitude he would've appreciated from anyone but her two weeks ago. Now, Luke wasn't sure whether his own inner hypocrite had somehow been tamed or if it was simply the fact they were against the clock that made Elizabeth's lack of courtesy seem a little more appealing than before. "I'll be ready in five."

In reality, five was closer to seven, but Luke wouldn't begrudge someone with two cracked ribs extra time while getting dressed.

He had a cup of tea ready and waiting by the time she finished in the shower, much to her surprise. Suspicion was visible on her face, and skepticism joined it when she looked at him as if trying to decide whether or not he'd poisoned her rooibos.

"Just drink your tea, woman," Luke said, finishing his coffee. "I ain't in the mood to explain the concept of time management."

"If this is related to what I said last—"

"It's not." But one day they were going to talk about just what she'd said to him, and the way she'd said it. The matter of fact tone, the look in her eyes before she straddled him. The pushing him around and shoving him up against the wall like he didn't have several inches and almost one hundred pounds on her. "And I'm not...interested."

"Believe me, if I actually wanted to sleep with you, I wouldn't approach you like that."

Part of him wanted to ask exactly how she would approach him. Call it curiosity or stupidity but his interest was piqued. The rest knew better. Some cans of worms were too dangerous to be opened. As long as Elizabeth kept her hands to herself and didn't start trying to provoke him, Luke would turn that blind eye again like he'd agreed to.

"Okay. Let's get to work."

The first two hours passed by like they had yesterday and the day before. Her stance was improving little by little. The tremors that affected Elizabeth's hands were a less noticable, although as soon as her finger touched the trigger guard, it all fell apart.

And it became rapidly clear that she'd been telling the truth about her skills or lack thereof, too. Shaw had no technique, no sense of timing or instinct. No ability to react to a sudden obstacle in her path.

She was fueled by nothing more than paranoia and muscle memory. A fact that became obvious when Elizabeth kept reaching for a knife or shiv she didn't have.

"Alright," Luke said, calling time when he noticed the tension in her jaw. "Take a break. Get a drink. We'll pick this up—"

"I don't need one. Let's keep going."

"This ain't a debate."

"You don't say."

Goddamn. Just when he thought he could potentially make peace with the idea of them being allies—of extending an olive branch himself—she went and doubled down on being a stubborn pain in his ass.

"Then you stay here. Keep going. I'm on break for ten minutes."

"Fine."

Rubbing his neck, Luke walked out of the cargo hold, cursing under his breath. She had eleven days, maybe twelve, before Cipher gave the order for him to kill her.

And if it came to that, being forced to choose between his daughter and his enemy, there was no question who Luke would pick. He didn't want to kill Shaw. God knew she hadn't done anything to warrant a bullet to the head yet, but Sam was irreplaceable.

He had one daughter.

Elizabeth had nothing.

No one who—

Jesus. Look at him. He was already trying to justify it in his mind, as if the end of all this had been set in stone. Luke shook his head in disgust and ducked into the galley, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

What the fuck was wrong with him? One day he was calling her Odile, implying that he wouldn't shove a dagger in her back, and the next he'd planned her funeral and eulogy in triplicate.

"You mind?" Jakob. Luke held out the beer he'd just grabbed. "Thanks."

Fetching another for himself, Luke sat at the table and popped the lid. He drained it in ten seconds flat, ignoring Jakob as he helped himself to a seat, too. Neither of them spoke after that, and for a brief while, it felt oddly familiar.

As if he was sitting in the kitchen back at the base, drinking beer and enjoying the silence with Toretto, O'Conner and the other guys. No one talking or fighting, just the half dozen of them processing the steaming piles of shit on their shoulders that weighed them down. Clinging to the few moments of peace they'd get before the storm arrived.

And arrive it did.

The rear galley door creaked, opening to allow Elizabeth to slip in. Still in her tank and shorts, hair damp and droplets of water clinging to her face and neck, she grabbed an iced water from the freezer and sat herself on a chair between them.

Jakob didn't respond. He didn't so much as look at her. Neither did Luke for that matter. He kept his eyes on the table, on the empty bottle in his hand. Anything other than the woman next to him. Shaw didn't seem to be interested in speaking either, but she clearly had something on her mind.

The hard plastic bottle creaked in her hand like a horn signaling the second woe of Revelation—the unleashing of the four fallen angels that would kill a third of mankind. The four Shaws who'd rain vengeance upon Cipher for what she'd done.

"Kopeck for your thoughts?"

Elizabeth sat up a little straighter and looked at Jakob, her attention coming to focus on him. "Hmm?"

"Que bola?" said Jakob. How are you?

"Aqui, en la luchita." I'm okay.

His fingers brushed Shaw's bangs behind her ear, and though she said it meant absolutely nothing, Luke felt his jaw clench. She was pandering to Jakob, he reminded himself. Everything he saw was just one long, calculated pantomime.

Nothing that should've struck a nerve, yet it did. Every single time, Elizabeth's actions reminded him why he couldn't trust her and why she had to be nothing more than a footnote in his life.

A blip on the radar.

A mistake.

"Break's over." Luke stood, pushing back from the table. "Let's go."

She didn't look up or even attempt to move. Instead, Shaw hooked her finger under Jakob's chin and brought him toward her, capturing and keeping his attention while she smiled like the Cheshire Cat. "Care to join us?"

"As fun as that sounds, I don't like to share."

"Who said you would?"

"He won't get jealous?"

"Him?" Luke could practically hear the giggle in her voice. The fatuous oh my God, you're so funny. All she needed was to curl her hair around her finger and blush like a nun fresh from the convent, and the image would be complete. "If you two keep driving off together, I'll be the one getting jealous."

Just when he thought he could see where this was going, Shaw tossed a spanner in the works. Standing there, Luke couldn't help but wonder exactly what she was going to say next. Whether or not all of this was about to take some turn into a mind game she hadn't told him about.

"He isn't my type," said Jakob, "but you two kids have fun, and try not to shoot him. We've got a job tomorrow."

"Pity." Elizabeth stood and approached him, looking up at Luke with a glint in her eye. "I guess I shouldn't keep you up too late then."

Hobbs knew better than to take the bait, or to let himself be dragged into all of this, yet his own message echoed in his head. No mind games unless he was in on them. Well, maybe it was time to step up to the plate and score a point or two.

"I can handle myself." He placed his hand on the small of Shaw's back, letting it rest there for a moment, then Luke leaned down and said, "You're the one who won't be getting any sleep tonight."

Call it a gamble, but there was no doubt someone had heard their words last night in the plane's midsection. Seen her on his lap or him against the wall. If he played into that, maybe no one would question why they were spending so much time together, lessons aside.

Let them think Elizabeth had wrapped him around her finger. That she was pulling his strings and using him, or vice versa.

"Oh, really?" Shaw pivoted to face him, bringing herself closer to Luke than they'd been in four whole years since the night he arrested her in Moscow. "I thought you said you weren't interested."

Luke skimmed his hand up the length of her spine, feeling the way she almost seemed to relax under his touch. His hand came to stop at the base of her neck, curling around the nape of it as Elizabeth's lips parted slightly. Her pulse beat against his fingers, but whether the frantic pace was driven by fear or anticipation, he didn't know. "Maybe I changed my mind."

"And why exactly would you do that?"

"Why do you think?"

She scoffed and turned her head, yet not once did Shaw attempt to pull away from him. "You want to get your dick wet that bad, huh?"

If Jakob reacted to Elizabeth's words, he didn't show it. Anger, surprise, shock—none of it was even hinted at on his face; his expression stayed completely neutral as he interrupted. "Elle, breakfast at six?"

"Sure."

"Alright. See you in the morning, princess."

Before Jakob had even finished speaking, Elizabeth walked off, and Luke made sure he was only three steps behind. He caught up to her as they reached the cargo hold, earning a single glance before they stepped inside and Elizabeth locked the door.

She didn't say anything or acknowledge what'd just happened. Shaw just drew her Glock and started practicing, putting the SUV between herself and him. Luke opened his mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. What the hell was he even supposed to say? Good game? Do you mind if I imply we'll sleep together? I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable?

No, she hated 'sorry'. That was the last thing Shaw would want to hear out of his mouth, yet it was what he needed to say...or wanted to, in any case. Luke sat in the SUV's rear again, watching as she circled the car before coming to a halt.

Then Elizabeth climbed in, pulled the door closed, sat against it, and holstered her gun. Neither of them spoke as the minutes passed in silence, and the urge to do so subsided as Luke sat there, the pads of his fingers tingling with the phantom sensation of Elizabeth's pulse. He'd never asked himself how she coped with all of this. Truthfully, Luke wasn't sure he had any interest in knowing, but the reaction to his touch sure painted a picture.

An intriguing one, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

His lips parted again, gaze shifting across to her. It seemed Shaw didn't care they were in the same vehicle, or that he was there at all. She didn't turn her head in his direction or so much as acknowledge his presence. Elizabeth simply kept her mouth closed and her attention on the window.

At least it seemed that way, then she leaned back, stretched her legs out, and that dark gaze became fixed on him.

"The caress was a nice touch," Elizabeth said. "I thought you'd end up grabbing my arse."

Did you want me to grab it? The question went unspoken, but Luke was sure she knew what floated around his mind. If Elizabeth Shaw was half the woman she painted herself as being, she'd probably already been expecting him to make some kind of move. To finally start playing Cipher's game instead of letting the hacker walk all over him.

"It's not my style." Going immediately from zero to one hundred seemed a little excessive, and it wasn't like they were fake sleeping together. Yet. Nor did he know exactly how she would react to him just sliding his hand down there. Although Elizabeth didn't seem to care about them all but spooning during practice sessions when something much less discrete than his hand was involved. "I'm not..."

"Handsy?"

"Something like that." Why the hell was he even sitting there trying to justify his decision? It'd been spur of the moment, a stupid idea he shouldn't have followed through on. "So where do we go from here?"

She shrugged. "You made the move. You figure it out."

Nice. Real nice. Clearly the idea that they would be better off working as a team was something he'd have to introduce Elizabeth to slowly, or beat her over the head with until she agreed that it was his way or the highway. Funny how he already knew the latter would be the optimal method.

"Elizabeth."

"We don't like each other, so why in the hell would I sleep with you?" Elizabeth said. "That's what they'll both be asking, so figure it out and seduce me."

As much as Luke wanted to laugh at the words coming from her mouth...she was right. Again. It wasn't exactly believable that the two of them would just hook up like that. No, there had to be a catalyst.

Something that would make even Cipher sit up and pay attention.

"Seduce you."

The day when this was all over, Luke would look back in shock at the words coming from his mouth. Afterwards, he'd pray that he never had to speak them again.

"You have a kid. Clearly you're capable of at least making a woman interested in you, and you did kiss my sister."

"We were sealing a promise," Luke said. How many times did he have to lay it out? Hattie had kissed him, not the other way around. "It isn't the same thing."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"Elizabeth, if I kissed your sister—and I mean really kissed her, not some wet behind the ears virgin in your momma's basement bullshit—you'd know."

Confusion grew visible on her face. Any other time, any other woman, Luke might have offered to demonstrate what he meant, but unless someone held a gun to his head, it wasn't happening tonight.

"Is that supposed to mean something," she said, "or are you just saying random  words now?"

"It means what I said. I'm not some wet behind the..." Elizabeth looked at him as if he were speaking complete gibberish. She really didn't understand a single syllable of the words that'd come out of his mouth, did she? Luke chuckled and stretched his legs out as well, getting as comfortable as he could. "I'm a grown man, not some horny fifteen year old boy who's never gotten laid. Believe me, I know how to kiss a girl."

"Oh."

"You understood that, huh?"

"How fortunate for Hattie. Is the bare minimum all you're capable of?"

The urge to reach across and smack the growing smirk off her face rose up inside him, but Luke suppressed it. Nothing good would come of picking a fight, as much as he might enjoy kicking her ass around the cargo hold. Besides, being stuck on this plane for another month was far less than ideal.

"Woman, are you trying to provoke me?"

The corner of her lips curved up even higher. "Yes."

God, she was going to drive him insane before this nightmare even ended. Luke wriggled forward and stretched out on the floor, legs bent and feet pressed against the door. They were going to have to figure something out because this SUV wasn't nearly spacious enough to fit him.

Maybe they'd drop the seats from now on. Use all the room they could. They certainly couldn't find anywhere else on the plane to talk, except for the shower. Knowing his luck, even that would be bugged somehow.

"You really want me to seduce you."

"You already threatened Cipher, didn't you? The other night? I didn't catch all of it but—"

Luke chuckled. Yeah, he had. "I told her if she didn't pick us up, I'd have you put a hole in the plane. Maybe she believed me, I don't know, but it worked."

"Then she really doesn't trust me at all."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Pushing off the door, Elizabeth turned around and lay down next to him, hands resting on her stomach. "It complicates things, but if she's concerned about me then maybe we have a chance. Like I said, it has to be you. There's no other way it'll look legitimate."

"You don't have any other ideas?"

"You want to get off this plane and save your kid, so me turning you isn't on the table. Not that she'd ever believe it. No, it has to be the other way around, and it needs to feel real." Shaw ran her hand over her face, frowning. "Fuck, I'm going to hate myself for this."

"For what?"

"Breakfast in bed. Conversation. Time together. Arguments." Elizabeth counted them on her fingers like items being ticked off a list. "Competition, physical contact, and last but not least...God, what is it?" She groaned and sat up, resting her hands on her thighs. "Oh, just give me a second."

"Breakfast in bed?"

"My weaknesses," she said, "or whatever you want to call them. If you want to seduce me, you're going to need ammunition and...strength. Strength is the last one."

"Breakfast is one of your weaknesses."

"In combination with the rest, yes."

"So that's why you take it up the ass from Jakob. Now it all makes sense. Well, you can forget about breakfast at six with the pretty boy. I'll be there early with bells on, a top hat, and tails."

"I don't—And you called me uncouth. Is this the real you then or are you just leveling the playing field?"

It was his turn to smirk. If Shaw wanted to make this look real, he would sweep her off her feet and all but carry her to the nearest priest. "Woman, we've known each other less than a month but last night you climbed on my lap and offered to fuck me. You're goddamn right I'm leveling the playing field. Prepare to have your socks knocked off..."

Luke grunted and rolled onto his side, elbow against the floor and hand under his head. With his left hand, he cupped her cheek and turned her head toward him. Elizabeth stared, lips pursed like she was utterly unimpressed, yet the glint in her eyes said bring it on.

"...and the rest of your clothes, too."

Chapter Text

"...Hobbs?"

Shaw squinted like she couldn't quite believe the holy visage in front of her. Truth be told, Luke didn't quite believe it himself, nevermind the words that'd come out of his mouth last night. The way he'd touched her face like he was seconds from doing something stupid and crossing a line that no man in his right mind would ever cross.

Not with a woman like Elizabeth, anyway.

"I told you I'd be here with bells on," he said.

"What about the top hat and tails?"

"I lost them."

"Of course you did."

Groaning, Elizabeth sat up, hair messy and eyes bleary. Covering her mouth with one hand as she yawned, she reached for her bedside lamp with the other and switched it on.

Luke squinted himself at the sudden flood of light before settling on the end of her bed. Shaw had drawn her legs up and crossed them, giving him plenty of space to maneuver. The ceiling was just high enough that he had a good inch or two of room above his head, ensuring he wasn't going to crack his skull open on anything, while her desk was shoved in the corner and out of his way so he wouldn't kick it either.

"You hungry?" It seemed like a redundant question, but there was no harm in asking. "I got—"

"Sure."

The flat tone of her voice made him sit up and pay attention. After last night, Luke had thought that maybe this would serve as some kind of entertainment for them both. Something that'd take their minds off the situation at hand, as if having Elizabeth sit on him wasn't distracting enough.

But this wasn't her.

Not the her he knew. The woman who'd beaten his ass that morning by sprinting like a bat out of hell or the one who'd nearly ripped his head off for merely suggesting that Hattie might get involved.

No, something was wrong, or something had happened since they last talked.

He glanced at the phone sitting on her desk, almost like it'd been dumped there or tossed, perhaps even thrown. Shit. Had she called Hattie? Her mom or dad? Deckard and Owen would still be laid up in hospital so calling them was a waste of time, but her sister...

Once Hattie knew what'd happened, there was no question she'd get involved. And if Dom hadn't called Magdalene by now to bring them into the fold, he'd regret it the next time Luke and Jakob showed up on his doorstep.

"Elizabeth."

Breakfast in bed. Conversation. Time together. Arguments. Those were the first four of her so-called weaknesses—the ammunition needed to seduce her—and once he invoked the last three, Shaw would be putty in his hands.

At least he hoped it would be as easy as that.

After the last two days, he needed these small successes. Besides talking to Sam, there really wasn't much to look forward to outside of the infrequent opportunities to get off Cipher's plane.

"What?"

Luke leaned toward her and reached up, hooking her chin with his finger just like she'd done to Jakob. She stared at him, a shred of emotion wavering in her eyes as if he'd just pushed past some invisible barrier. Some shield she normally kept up to block out the world and separate herself from it.

Elizabeth pursed her lips like she didn't know if she should smack his hand away or not, but before Shaw could try anything at all, the words he normally kept reserved for people who deserved them came tumbling out of his mouth.

"From now on, if anyone so much as gives you a broken nail, I'll kill them."

For a moment, she seemed wary. Like she was wondering exactly what had provoked that kind of talk from him. Luke didn't quite know the answer himself, but the scar on her stomach, the things she'd told him, had clearly sunk into his subconscious. His volatile and now rather vengeful subconscious.

"So what'd you grab?"

Just like that, Shaw changed the subject, shifting the conversation to the plastic bag in his right hand and the containers inside it. Luke shifted his attention along with it, pulling out two forks from the bag and tossing her one. "Pancakes."

"Did you bring ice cream?"

For breakfast? "Woman, why would I..."

Elizabeth got up on her knees and leaned forward, hands coming to rest on his lower thighs as she braced herself on him. "I thought you liked your dessert first."

It was the husky tone of her voice that did Luke in. The low, sultry rasp sending a shiver down his spine. The less than subtle implication that ice cream wasn't the dessert she was talking about. Then she smiled and pushed off the bed, getting up and stepping out of the room, leaving him feeling like he was about to pop a stitch in his briefs.

Jesus. Who was supposed to be seducing who?

Taking a breath, Luke got their breakfast organised and leaned back against the wardrobe tucked into the corner between the bed and the door. She'd have no more need to invade his space like that again, or any reason to get close until she was screwing him.

With him.

Screwing with him.

Shaw came back two minutes later with one large scoop of vanilla in a bowl, but she wasn't finished. Not in the least. Instead of immediately sitting down, eating her food and giving him a few minutes of quiet, Elizabeth stopped by his side again. She leaned down, lips all but skimming the shell of his ear, and murmured. It took his brain a moment to register the words he'd just heard, let alone process them, but as Elizabeth sat and helped herself to her breakfast, they sank in.

"You know, that was kind of hot before. It almost sounded like you meant it."

Luke looked up, catching her attention. She tilted her head slightly, focused solely on him as he said, "I did."

And just like that, she was thrown off her game. Vulnerable again. He could see it in her eyes, the way she pressed her lips together and her grip on the fork loosened ever so slightly before she dropped her gaze to the container of ice cream, syrup, and warm pancakes. Elizabeth poked at her food, saying nothing in response. Maybe she didn't know what to say, or maybe she didn't know how to respond, period. Maybe she'd never heard those words, that kind of sentiment, come from anyone in her entire life.

"Ice cream, huh?" Luke reached across, spearing the scoop with his fork, and took it before she could react. He broke it in half, returning one hemisphere to her container and leaving the other on his own stack of pancakes. Breaking off a piece of his ice cream, he ate it with a bite of pancakes and nodded in approval. "Hmm. Not bad."

"Yeah."

There was that flat tone again. A tone he didn't like if Luke was being honest with himself. It spoke of detachment and apathy. Those walls building themselves back up to cut Shaw off from the world and protect herself from being hurt. The same walls he'd built around himself after his team died, with only a Sam-sized hole for his daughter to walk through. Eventually, he'd dismantled them when he was ready.

Elizabeth had clearly never reached that point, and he doubted she ever would.

Not when she threw her defences up at the slightest hint of trouble. The smallest sign that suggested—God forbid—she might be as human as the rest of them.

"Thanks for breakfast," Elizabeth said once she was done. "You can finish up, see yourself out. I'm taking a shower."

Grabbing her towel from the closet behind him and a fresh set of clothes, she made to leave. Luke was on his feet in a heartbeat, catching her by the waist and turning her around. Shaw's eyes widened as he pushed her back against the door with a soft thud, stopping her from going anywhere. "I didn't say we were done yet, woman."

"Hobbs." She tilted her head back to look up at him, taking in all six feet, four inches of him. For once, standing in close proximity to each other like this, Luke actually felt a little intimidating. It wasn't just in the way he dwarfed her, or that he was more like a physical wall blocking her path than a man right now. No, it was the sheer breadth of his body. Those wide shoulders Elizabeth couldn't possibly wrap her arms around. His tree trunk-like waist and massive thighs almost pressing against hers as Hobbs leaned forward, bracing one of his hands above her head. "What are you doing?"

"Close your eyes."

"...Luke."

"You can't take a shower with your clothes on, so one of us is going to have to take them off."

Elizabeth was going to kill him for this. Maybe not today, but some day. She'd haunt him for the rest of his life, ensure he didn't get a single restful night's sleep, and when all was said and done, make his afterlife miserable too. Oh, yeah, there wasn't a chance in hell Shaw ever let this slide. Her on his lap was one thing, picking her up another. This? His hand flat on her stomach, holding her in place, shouldn't have even been within the realms of possibility.

"Make your choice," said Hobbs. "You or me?"

She lifted her right hand still gripping her towel and shoved him, but Luke didn't move an inch. Elizabeth could stand there and glare at him all she wanted, lips pressed together in a pout, and it'd never make a difference. He was nearly two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, resolved not to move unless he wanted to.

Shit. Getting out of this was going to be harder than it looked. Least of all due to the sasquatch who had her practically wedged between him and the door. The door she couldn't open, the sasquatch she couldn't evade, and his hand that wouldn't stop touching her. A hand that ought to have moved by now if Elizabeth had any say in the matter. Closing her eyes, she swallowed the lump in her throat and reached for the door handle.

"You...but not here."

Her eyes darted to the side, looking for the lock. Alright. This had gone far enough. She wanted out, and far be it for him to stop her. Luke stepped back two feet, giving Elizabeth the space she needed to pull the door open and slip out, then immediately followed in her wake to the rear of the plane.

Shaw was almost in the bathroom by the time he caught up, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. He put the toilet lid down and helped himself to a seat, Elizabeth not glancing at him even once as she stripped down to her underwear and stepped into the shower. She then slid the curtain across, being careful to make as little sound as humanly possible.

"Turn around."

"Luke."

"Take it off." If his mom could see him now, she'd have sasa'd his ass with that slipper for letting things get this far. Hell, once he got Sam home safe and took her back to Samoa, Momma would really give him an earful. Maybe she'd even ground him. Take away his badge and tell him that unless he cleaned up his act, he wouldn't be going to work for the next hundred years. Ah, that'd be the day. "Slowly."

Elizabeth poked her head out from behind the curtain and stared at him like she couldn't believe what was happening. Maybe she was wondering exactly how they'd ended up here, talking like some goddamn married couple or a pair of horny teenagers who couldn't keep their hands off each other. "You do it."

"Woman, if I take it off, you won't have much of a shirt left."

Her lips suddenly pressed together in a tight line, cheeks lifting, and her upper body began to tremble just enough to tell him that she was silently laughing. Fucking laughing at him while here he was trying his best to 'seduce' her. A plan which had been her idea to begin with. After a few moments, Shaw managed to take a breath and said, "And what about my..."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

He was going straight to Hell for this. Do not pass the pearly gates, do not collect $200. Yeah, there wasn't even the slightest chance he'd shake the big man's hand now. It was all over for him, and for some reason...Luke didn't give a damn. As long as they got Sam back, all this bullshit would be worth it. Every minute of the foreseeable future would be worth whatever pain and suffering it entailed.

"You can take those off too."

Hobbs' voice deepened, almost dropping an entire octave as it became rough and low. The very definition of dangerous. The kind of sound that shouldn't have come from someone like him. He was supposed to be a Fed. One of the good guys. So why did he suddenly give off the vibe of someone far more ruthless and intimidating? If she didn't know better, Elizabeth might have closed her eyes and mistaken him for a man who was at the far end of the criminal spectrum.

Someone who, for the first time in a long time, just might be on her side.

She grabbed the curtain and slid it across the rest of the way, blocking her from his sight. Luke heard the tap handles turn, then the shower came on. He sat there and waited instead, not going anywhere. When the shower turned off, he stood, picked up the towel she'd left on the sink and tossed it over the railing.

"...Thanks."

"Elizabeth."

Towel wrapped around her, she stepped out after a minute and walked toward the sink where her clean clothes sat. "I need a minute."

"Okay."

Luke stepped past her, peeling off his shirt and tossing it onto a rack that sat adjacent to the shower cubicle. He stood behind the curtain to take the rest of his clothes off, all too aware that given the chance, Elizabeth might very well have sat there and made some comment about how she could bounce a kopeck off his ass.

The rest of his shower passed in relative silence, allowing the past half hour to run through his head on repeat. Those words he'd said, the ones that implied they just might actually be partners, were coming back to haunt him. In what world would he protect a woman who'd tried to kill him? Or rather, in what world was Luke the kind of asshole who expected someone to save his daughter and defend him in a gunfight without returning the favor?

None.

There was no world where he would ever be that person.

He'd given Elizabeth his word that she wouldn't end up in prison and Luke would sure as hell follow through on that, just as he'd follow through on this too. Why else tell her that he did mean them? That if anyone touched a hair on her head, Luke would break their necks? That kind of talk should've been reserved for Sam, not her.

But he'd meant it...

Every single word that'd come out of his mouth was true.

Whether Shaw wanted to acknowledge it or not, having each other's backs wasn't just a necessity, it was crucial. Up until the moment he had Sam in his arms, until they were safe, he needed her to be there. To fill the void that existed due to the absence of his partner. Luke would never fault Elena for prioritizing her son, but the sense that something—someone—was missing? It wouldn't go away.

Not on the base and not here.

"Minute's up." Luke tossed his shirt over his shoulder as he stepped out of the shower. "So what are we doing?"

That was the question, wasn't it? What the hell were they doing? What the hell was she doing? Climbing onto his lap, offering to blow him, telling him to seduce her? And that didn't even take into account when she'd halfheartedly bitten his head off and allowed Hobbs to see something he had no reason to see.

As if he hadn't already seen it when she was half naked in his motel room...

She crossed her arms over her chest, towel still wrapped around herself. Elizabeth stared at the floor, not lifting her head an inch when Hobbs took a step closer. He was almost breathing down her neck now, less than a foot away and probably looking at her like she was some broken vase he could repair if only there was enough krazy glue on hand.

Fortunately for her, in less than two weeks, this would all be over. He'd have his kid and she wouldn't have to hear Hobbs' voice again. Least of all see him again. With any luck, Elizabeth would never see any of them again either. No Jakob, no Cipher, no Toretto.

No brothers...

As soon as she had the money and Sam was safe, there'd be a flight somewhere with her name on it. One that would take her to the edge of the world where not even Hobbs could find her.

Jokuuskay.

A city of 200,000 people and a place no one would think to look, including the Russian mob. She'd never told anyone her mother was from Siberia. It was a secret kept tightly under wraps. The ace up her sleeve in case of emergencies. Her grandmother—her real one—was still there by all accounts, and there was no question a seventy-eight year old woman would welcome the help, never mind the cash.

"Elle."

Her head turned in his direction, but she didn't look at him. It was hard to when Luke was right there, his bare chest close enough Elizabeth could've rested against him. The thought flitted through her head in an instant, yet her body didn't move. This pantomime? It was easy. Simple. A distraction that should've required no emotional involvement. Instead, Beth had begun to let her guard down one fucked up conversation at a time.

Telling the truth to Cipher was one thing. Lying to her was a lesson in the art of deception, and to pull it off required Elizabeth deceiving herself in the process.  After all, the best lies were built on a foundation of honesty.

Honesty that was only possible because of him.

"You have thirty seconds to take that towel off before I do it for you."

Twenty-nine.

If she opened her mouth again, there was every chance she'd say something stupid. Something Elizabeth couldn't take back, like 'training with you isn't all that bad'. Maybe it was due to the fact she hadn't gotten laid in over a year but having his arms around her, his body encompassing the entirety of hers, felt kind of...nice.

Twenty-two.

Oh, yeah, it was definitely the lack of sex.

There was no other reasonable explanation for why she didn't mind having Hobbs' respectably sized dick pressed against her arse for hours on end, or why she'd stood there and let him touch her like that. His hand sliding up her spine, fingers coming to curl around the back of her neck, almost as if she belonged to him. Or like yesterday in the car, or that time less than one hour ago in her room when he touched her face and told her he'd kill for her.

Sixteen.

Any other day, any other time when Sam's life wasn't at stake, Hobbs would've received a knife to the heart for putting his hands on her, let alone cracking her ribs.

Thirteen.

Or so she kept telling herself.

Truthfully, she'd be lucky to scratch him. Up close and personal like they were now, even Elizabeth could see the odds of her winning a fight against Hobbs were utterly nonexistent.

Eleven.

The man was as solid as a marble statue.

Ten.

Really, in what universe would someone like her ever have a chance at taking him down?

Nine.

And then there was the other side of things.

Eight.

Hobbs had saved her sister.

Seven.

Herself too.

Six.

If the mob had caught on before he got her out of Moscow, Elizabeth would've ceased to exist.

Five.

But there was also Riley. Her brothers. The damage Hobbs had left in his wake.

Four.

The 12,581 hours she'd spent locked in a glorified hole in the ground.

Three.

The 12,581 hours spent planning how to make him pay for leaving her to rot.

Two.

And the 547 days of hoping that Hobbs might come back for her...

One.

Hoping it was all a huge fucking mistake.

Ze—

Chapter Text

Footsteps echoed in the plane's main corridor like a death knell for them both, and Hobbs reacted the only way he could: he picked Elizabeth up and pivoted to face away from the bathroom door. Her towel lifted slightly as she wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to press her against the wall.

Their gazes met for all of a half second, but it was enough to communicate the obvious. They needed to keep their cover, and short of killing whoever was about to walk into the bathroom, this would have to do.

It wasn't as if either of them would enjoy it anyway.

Elizabeth angled her head and met him halfway, her right hand coming to grasp the back of his neck and eyes half-lidded as Luke closed the rest of the distance between them.

It started off chaste at first. Hesitant and uncomplicated until Elizabeth's grip on his neck and his on her thighs both tightened. Then it turned hot. There was no other word for it—someone cranked up the temperature on their internal thermostats. Her touch seared him to the bone and molten need coursed through his veins, scorching him.

Shit.

Had it really been so long since he last held a woman like this that making out with Elizabeth Shaw felt damn near perfect?

"Luke." She even groaned his name near perfectly. "Fuck."

Neither of them looked at the door lest they broke their rhythm, and there was a rhythm. Just like in the cargo hold when he began to teach Elizabeth how to clear a room properly, they'd fallen in sync again. Her leaning up to meet him, digging her fingers into the base of his neck and pushing herself eagerly against him, allowing Luke to press himself even closer. Molding them together until he wasn't sure where his body ended and hers began.

Their breath came in short, eager gasps, and those footsteps grew louder. Still, Luke didn't break it off. He was a starving man in need and here was a woman offering him a feast. One that would soon end the moment they were caught.

Or so it seemed that way.

Loud turned to quiet as whoever it was made their way upstairs. The bathroom door didn't open, there was no interruption, and neither of them stopped. For whatever reason, he didn't pull away either as it sank in that no one had found them. If anything, his kisses only grew more intense and eager.

Up until the moment that proverbial bucket of ice cold water was dumped on his head.

"We've got a job in one hour." The door flung open and struck the wall, revealing Jakob. An angry Jakob if his biting tone was any indication as he tossed a duffel bag onto the floor. "Get dressed, Shaw."

To no one's surprise, she didn't break her stride for one second. Elizabeth moved her lips from Luke's mouth to his ear and spoke just loud enough for him and Jakob both to hear.

"I guess that gives you one hour to knock my socks off. Think you can handle that, Fed?"

"You want me to get on my knees or my back?"

He shouldn't have said it. The moment the words left his mouth, regret piled on his shoulders and hit him like a ton of bricks. Yet his gut told him Shaw wasn't a pillow princess in any sense of the term. There was no way a woman like her would be on the bottom, let alone lay there and do nothing. No, she had to be in control every time, like she was now.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Elizabeth." Jakob ground out the word like he was losing his patience. "I said get dressed."

"I heard you, but first I need to get undressed. Do you mind?"

Jakob shut the door without another word, leaving them alone with each other and their thoughts. Luke met Elizabeth's gaze as she pursed her lips, frowning, her mind going a million miles a minute. Was she asking the same questions as him? Wondering just how they'd gotten to this point or where they'd go from here?

"...Hobbs."

"Yeah." He loosened his grip and let her down, taking a step back to give Shaw some room. Luke took one look at the duffel bag before picking it up and dumping it on the sink with her clothes. "Why would Cipher send you on a mission now?"

Elizabeth snorted in derision, as if to say the answer was glaringly obvious if he only thought about it. She reached under the bag and grabbed her tank top and shorts, dropped the towel and pulled them on. After slinging the duffel bag onto her shoulder and tossing the towel in the laundry basket, Elizabeth began to walk out without so much as a 'thank you'.

"Oi! Kakova chyorta?" Hey! What the hell is this?

She froze two seconds later, pivoting on her feet to face him. The look on her face was one of surprise, shock and slight confusion. A thousand bucks said she hadn't expected that to come out of his mouth. It wasn't as if Luke was fluent in Russian by any means, but a certain level of proficiency had been obtained while he was hunting her family down all those years ago.

"...What?"

"You can barely hold a gun, let alone breathe," Luke said. "You really think you'll survive this? Five minutes in a fight and you'll be on your ass with two new cracked ribs or dead from a punctured lung."

"Orders are orders. You of all people should understand that concept."

"And since when do you work for Cipher?"

Were they actually doing this? Having a damn argument over her playing the hand she was dealt? Had Hobbs somehow forgotten what was at stake because she'd made out with him? God, she was going to regret that kiss for the rest of her life. "I don't. Not yet, anyway, but she's got a gun pointed at my head so when Cipher says jump, I jump."

"How do you know it's Cipher saying it?"

"I'm not willing to take the risk that it isn't."

Why did he even care anyway? She'd give him this much: Hobbs was a good actor. That whole 'if anyone touches you, I'll kill them' line had caught her off guard, but he didn't mean it. Not really. Just like the kiss, the way he'd touched her—it was nothing more than a charade. One she shouldn't have started in hindsight.

She just couldn't ever keep her mouth shut, her head down and her nose clean, could she? It didn't matter that her neck was on the line. No, as long as Cipher held all the cards and had Sam in her possession, Elizabeth's tendency for self sacrifice would bite her in the ass, no thanks to twelve years of Magdalene and her 'we do it for the family' spiel.

"I'm supposed to be the one running that job with Jakob."

The second the words left Luke's mouth, he realized they sounded even dumber aloud than in his head. There'd been nothing to indicate that he wouldn't be on the job with Jakob, only that Elizabeth was now joining them. Luke sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "How about we try this conversation again?"

"How about we just go get dressed and sit in your car?"

"We're going to talk about this eventually."

"Is that some kind of promise?" Shaw looked him up and down like she was ready for a fight, or another round of making out. Luke wasn't quite sure exactly what kind of sizing up she was doing, but it seemed Elizabeth was more than willing to fill him in. "Or are you hinting that you want me to skip the foreplay and put you on your knees? Because if this is going to happen, there's only one rule: we never skip the foreplay. So if that's a problem for you, here's your chance to walk away."

"Take your clothes off, Elizabeth."

This had to be a test. Some cruel joke played on him by God, otherwise why would he end up stuck on a plane with a woman like her who seemed to revel in pushing his buttons? If Luke didn't know better, he would've said she took some sadistic pleasure in doing it. The reality was that all this was just her.

And deep down, he liked it.

Shaw was about as subtle as a wrecking ball. Outside of the mind games, the fight for survival, when she was just herself and nothing more—like on their run that morning—and all the bullshit got stripped away, she wasn't as bad as she seemed at face value.

"You know what? I've changed my mind. Sex is off the menu until further notice."

"Woman, you are the menu."

Oh, who was he kidding? She was a goddamn nightmare. The biggest pain in his ass he'd ever met and if they ever had to work together again on anything, he'd quit the moment she walked in the door. The snark, the pitbull-esque behavior and refusal to ever back down, nagged at him like a kanker sore.

But he liked it...

Or maybe he really just liked that a woman was showing him attention after a several months long dry spell. Hookups were never simply hookups for him. They got messy and complicated due to the fact he had Sam. He couldn't exactly have women coming into her life every so often before leaving a week or two later. Sam didn't need the kind of heartbreak that came with people constantly walking out on her, never being able to form a solid relationship with anyone other than his family.

As much as she deserved better, a stable life and family, his daughter deserved to be protected from any and all bullshit too, and he couldn't give her that stability until Luke was one hundred percent certain that he'd found a woman who wouldn't walk out on either of them.

The right woman who'd have his back through thick and thin no matter what. Both their backs.

"You can't talk like that, you know." Elizabeth looked at him through half-lidded eyes, voice husky, like she was about to lift him up and wrap his legs around her waist. "We're supposed to be fighting."

"We can fight if you want to fight. Pick a wall. I'll put you through it."

"Put me or fuck me?"

"Is there a difference?"

She smiled for the briefest of moments, the barest hint of one forming on her face. He'd struck a chord—or something—and not in a bad way. "Hobbs."

"Turn around."

If he didn't stop now, there was going to be a problem when she decided to take him up on his offer. Luke knew that, but the question of whether it would really be a bad thing lingered in his head. Elizabeth had made it clear she could separate work and play. Could he?

Compartmentalizing work and his personal life wasn't an issue, but mixing work and sex while also keeping them separate when the situation was nothing short of complicated? It was an all but guaranteed recipe for disaster.

And knowing his luck, he might just wake up one morning to find her atop him, knife to his throat.

"This is not a game you want to play, Luke."

"Then give me a reason not to."

"Sam."

Before he could say a word, Elizabeth pulled the door open and ducked out, taking the duffel bag with her. Her footsteps echoed on the stairs and eventually, that heavy armored door thudded shut, leaving Luke with only his thoughts and the lingering feel of Elizabeth's hand on his neck.

Sam was the reason they were playing Cipher's game to begin with. Now Shaw wanted to say she was a reason not to play their own? As if Elizabeth hadn't been baiting him for at least two days. As if this whole thing wasn't her goddamn idea. Or maybe that was just an excuse because she knew this whole thing had already gone a step too far in the wrong direction and Elizabeth didn't have the guts to admit she was in over her head and needed his help.

Hell, for all he knew, this was some attempt at a cry for help. One she wouldn't admit to out of pride or whatever egotistical bullshit kept a woman like her going despite the odds being heavily stacked against her.

Shit. He was getting dressed and then walking upstairs to confront her, wasn't he? Luke didn't even need to tell himself the answer was yes—he'd subconsciously already made up his mind. Elizabeth had agreed to complete transparency and he'd be damned if Luke dropped something just because a pretty woman made out with him.

Not that he needed to, it turned out. By the time he'd gotten dressed in the armory and ensured he was ready for whatever shitstorm awaited them, there was no reason to bother going upstairs. Elizabeth had beaten him to the punch. She walked in while he was strapping his holster to his thigh, clutching her helmet in her right hand.

"Hey."

"You ready for this?"

Some might call it a redundant question, but there was no harm in asking. Depending on where they were going and what awaited them, this mission would land somewhere on the spectrum between cakewalk and nightmare. Shaw had never experienced either of those things, let alone a firefight.

"No."

He'd told himself to leave yesterday and start hunting Jakob down, but Deckard's condition had worsened for a brief while. Owen had instead spent the night at his brother's side, sleeping on and off in case something else happened. Nothing did, except for...them.

Waking up to find he wasn't alone in the room was unsettling enough. Waking and finding his own mother sitting next to him drinking a cup of tea? That was terrifying.

"Mum," Owen mumbled in greeting, opening his eyes once more to confirm it was her before he closed them. "I take it someone called you."

"My sons get shot while my fucking daughter—the girl I raised—betrays them? Yes, someone called, because apparently you couldn't be bothered picking up a phone and telling me Cipher nearly took the both of you out."

"There was no need. I'm taking care of it."

"Bang up job you've done so far."

"Mum!"

Shit. Owen sat upright, looking over his shoulder to find himself face to face with the only other woman on the planet he didn't want to see: Hattie. She gave a half smile and nothing more, gaze moving from Deckard to him for only a second before her attention went right back to their brother.

"So this Hobbs. He's one of us?" asked Magdalene.

"Cipher kidnapped his daughter," Owen said. "According to him, anyway."

"Do you believe it, Hatts?"

"It's the only possible reason he'd ever work for Cipher. She kidnapped his partner, for God's sake. Hobbs would never betray his team."

If there was one thing they could agree on, it was that. Hobbs was no willing participant in this nightmare. Even Owen knew the only way to ever turn a man like him was to apply pressure on exactly the right point and watch him buckle.

"I used to say the same about your father. I was wrong."

And now their sister had turned out just like him. What a surprise. Selfish, greedy, reckless—throwing them under the bus for a couple billion dollars was something Owen should've seen coming. The signs were so fucking clear from day one it seemed laughable that he hadn't. Her trying to make friends with Letty, working alone and avoiding the rest of the team while seemingly having no issues tolerating Hobbs' presence.

He'd even seen Elizabeth exit the fed's room one morning, neither one of them seeming to care if anyone spotted her. The kind of behaviour that screamed conspiracy or setup, or plan...

"What if someone flipped him?"

"Hobbs?" Hattie shook her head in disbelief. "I don't see that happening."

"If they lived in close quarters? Give it a couple weeks of seeing each other, working together. Could someone turn Hobbs?"

"Anything's possible, I guess, but it's unlikely. Look, we haven't exactly spent much time around each other, Owen. I hardly know him."

He gave Hattie a look that said she knew him well enough to kiss the guy. Whether their mother understood the message was a question he'd rather not ask, but the glare Hattie gave him confirmed she sure did.

"Then his kid wasn't taken. Beth flipped him."

It was the only answer that made any sense given the facts. Given everything that'd happened in the last month, everything that'd happened in the last two days and before that when Hobbs boarded Cipher's plane—the Fed betraying them was the only logical answer. 

"Owen, you can't be serious."

"She had more than enough time to wrap him around her finger. Beth's young, fit, and she's more than qualified." There wasn't really any other way to say it that wouldn't result in Magdalene biting his head off, was there? "She's spent more than enough time in Moscow to have learned a thing or two."

"Why would Hobbs lie about a thing like Sam being taken?"

"I don't know. Maybe Beth offered him a couple billion if he helped her steal the money. Maybe she found Hobbs' weakness and exploited it."

"Hobbs wouldn't betray the team." At first, the words didn't register in his head. Not until Deckard groaned, trying to lift his upper body off the bed and failing. "He's not the type."

"You really think that? Beth's always been jealous of Hatts," Owen argued. "If she turned Hobbs, it would be a way to prove to Cipher she's still useful, maybe get another notch in her belt."

"Shut up, Owen." Deckard pulled himself upright, teeth grit as pain surged through his chest. "Cipher has his kid. Hobbs wouldn't lie about that, so we need to find Sam. All of us. And once we do, I'm going to kill that bastard, and then I'll kill the both of them, too."

"She's your sister, Decks. She's our family," Magdalene said, glaring at him, "and we don't kill family."

"Beth hasn't been family in seventeen years. Now I'm not sure if she ever really was it to begin with."

No one said anything, least of all Hattie. Instead, she grabbed her styrofoam cup and walked out of the hospital room. If they were going to survive the rest of the day, Hattie needed more coffee before anyone else came up with ridiculous ideas about who was what and why. Or before she found herself starting to agree with Deckard in some capacity.

"Hey. You good?"

Hattie looked up from the floor, coming face to face with Dom. She'd only seen him once this morning when Magdalene decided to check on him and his wife, and dragged her along. Since then, Hattie only glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye. He was giving them some much needed space, it seemed, while ensuring their mother didn't go without anything. "Yeah, I'm alright. How's Letty?"

Dom chuckled like they'd known each other since the second grade and leaned back. She'd known him for all of a few hours now but he already had her respect, and a small shred of admiration for going up against both of her brothers and somehow walking away alive. "She wants to kick Cipher's ass."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

"So did they tell you about Hobbs?"

She grabbed a coffee before sitting down and stretching her legs out. Jetlag was already kicking in, but the worst part was trying to sit comfortably on a cargo plane for ten hours. Turned out seats made from netting weren't exactly easy on your glutes or thighs. "Cipher has his daughter. I heard. Owen thinks he's betrayed the team, but I can't see him doing that without someone having leverage on him. He wouldn't flip so easily."

"No, he wouldn't."

If there was anything he and Deckard Shaw could agree on, it was that Luke Hobbs didn't have a traitorous bone in his body. The man was as straitlaced as they came. But when a certain line was crossed, absolutely anything became possible, and just like when Cipher had kidnapped Elena and his son, Hobbs was now staring down a crossroads deciding exactly which way to go.

With a choice between saving himself and his daughter or doing the right thing, it wasn't hard to see which path Hobbs would choose. Dom had seen it during their rooftop barbeque—only one thing mattered more to him than the law and that was a sweet little girl with curly brown hair and one hell of a mouth on her.

"So...any ideas on where to start?" asked Hattie.

"Sam was staying with his sister. We'll start there. Look for the exact day she was taken and follow her. It can't have happened more than a week or two ago. Ramsey still has access to God's Eye so she can pull up old surveillance footage."

It was smart, but not the answer Hattie was really looking for. "I was thinking more along the lines of finding him. I need to look Hobbs in the eyes and see that he hasn't turned. That what my brother says isn't true."

"I think we can manage that. I'll ask Tej to run Hobbs through facial recognition. See if we can't get his location."

"You know, when you said I was going to be going on a mission with the two of you, this isn't exactly what I had in mind." Elizabeth tapped her feet against the SUV's floor, head resting on her hand, eyes half closed. They'd been stuck in traffic for nearly five fucking minutes and had only traveled all of two blocks. "God, this is worse than driving in Moscow."

"I told you to take the alley," Luke said, glancing at Jakob. "It would've been that much faster."

"Will you stop backseat driving? Jesus, you're just like my mom."

"Hey, show me the map again." She thrust her hand out expectantly. "I need to look at something."

"You've looked at it three times."

"Entertain me."

Luke grabbed it off the dash and held it out behind him, allowing Elizabeth to take it. He could hear her muttering to herself before the pen in his pocket was pulled out for the third time as well. The next thing Luke knew, she was leaning up beside him and holding the map out in front of him. He glanced at it, following the new line she'd drawn, then looked out the window.

Shit. Maybe that might work.

"Park up ahead." Luke pointed to an empty spot. "We're walking from here. I've got an idea."

"You or her?"

"It's a team effort."

Once they were parked, they grabbed their helmets and stepped out. Apparently there was some kind of costume thing at the city's conference center so they wouldn't stand out so much today. That was how Jakob had explained it, anyway. Elizabeth had never heard of cosplay or whatever the other thing was—comic something or other.

"Take the alley up ahead." Hobbs glanced down at the map once more to make sure they were going the right way. The last thing he needed was to get lost and waste any more time. "There's a hotel we can cut through."

"A hotel," Jakob said. "The three of us. Dressed like this."

"Two basement-dwelling virgins and a beautiful woman. Who wouldn't believe it?"

Jakob looked at her like he couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. Truthfully, he didn't. "Did you get that from him?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Don't ever say that to a man unless you're looking for a fight. Jesus, you're supposed to be teaching her how to use a gun, not helping her get her ass kicked. You're a bad influence, you know that, Hobbs?"

The smirk on Luke's face said he did. And that he'd very possibly never been considered a bad influence on anyone in his life before which came as no surprise. "Me? You should hear the mouth on her."

"Believe me, I have. Saw it when you two were sticking your tongues down each other's throats this morning too."

It wasn't her finest moment, but she'd gone for the easiest way out of a potentially bad situation. At least that's what she kept telling herself. Maybe it was really the fact she'd been working her way up to charming him, hoping Hobbs might let her off the base unsupervised, and more or less preparing herself to seduce the guy that made kissing Luke all the more easier.

Or maybe she just wanted to feel something—anything—after four years of isolation. Eighteen months in a prison cell, seeing sunlight for one hour a day, would make anyone desperate for the slightest physical contact, least of all intimacy.

God, was she really that pathetic? What kind of a weak shell of a woman had she become after a measly year and a half in prison? And why? It wasn't like she couldn't handle herself. Anything Hobbs, Cipher or Mr. Nobody could throw at her, Elizabeth was ready for.

Until they invoked her family...then she turned into a doormat that read 'tread on me'.

"Wouldn't be anything to see if you didn't open the door, pretty boy."

"Or if you kept your hands to yourself."

Shaw scoffed and gestured at Luke. "He started it."

"Oh now we both know that ain't true, woman. You started it when you climbed on my lap and asked if I wanted to get my dick wet."

"Alright." Jakob stopped mid-step when they were halfway down the alley, rounding on them both. His hand rested on his concealed and holstered sidearm, body tense like he was about to bite their heads off. Instead, he reached down, flicked off his radio, and waited for the two of them to do the same. They did. "Cut the crap, Elizabeth. What is this? Are you trying to push Cipher's buttons and piss her off or do you two just need to fuck it out and deal with all the pent up hormones you're carrying around? Because I'll book a hotel room if it means I don't see you two make out again."

Elizabeth looked him up and down, like she was trying to figure something out. "It's been a while for you, hasn't it?"

"We're not talking about me."

"Then we aren't talking about us either," she said, "so let's just get this over with."

"Elle."

The two said her name at the exact same time, almost like their mouths were synced. She shook her head, muttering under her breath, and walked past Jakob. The hotel wasn't too far away, and once they passed through it, their real target was only half a mile east. An unassuming office building that housed what was apparently an intel op for the Agency on the third floor.

"So what is this, Hobbs?"

"She told me to seduce her." It wasn't a stretch to say Jakob was a competent soldier, and due to that fact, Luke was willing to be a little more tolerable of him. To a certain extent, that was. "So that's what I'm doing."

"She tell you to give her your balls on a necklace too?"

They talked and walked at the same time, keeping Elizabeth in their sights up until she disappeared around the next corner, then they came to a halt.

"No, Momma took those years ago."

Jakob chuckled and shook his head like he couldn't believe any of this. Truthfully, Luke didn't believe it himself. "Whatever plan Elle thinks will work in her favor? It isn't going to. None of it will. Cipher has her on a leash and sooner or later, she'll choke Shaw with it."

Despite how true Jakob's words were, Luke couldn't bring himself to shit all over Shaw's plans. Not when Elizabeth was refusing to back down from the fight. Every time she picked up that gun, pushed through the fear and who knew what else that messed her up, Luke found another tiny shred of respect for her had begun to grow inside him.

Why she couldn't have stepped up to the plate like that initially when all of this was first unfolding, he didn't understand.

"Cipher—"

"Holds all the cards." Jakob cut him off before Luke could get any further. "Beth is a dancing puppet. She thinks she can play the game because she got lucky once. The truth is, she doesn't have what it takes and odds are she never will...and that's fine, not everyone does. But as long as she goes around acting like top dog, people are going to try and put her in her place. One day, they're going to succeed and no one will be there to save her. Only this time it won't be a knife they use but a bullet to the head."

He wanted so desperately to say that Jakob was wrong. He wasn't, and the words hit Luke like a ton of bricks. Deep unease settled in the pit of his stomach for reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint. It wasn't as if he hadn't justified killing her himself a hundred different times these past few days. Finding all of the different reasons why Elizabeth could die if only it meant he saved Sam.

"Jakob—"

"I've seen this play out a thousand times. Been the one who delivered the bullet for most of them. Either she backs off or she ends up in a grave."

"Are you two done talking? Or would you like to speculate a little more? Because I don't know about you but I'd rather get this job over and done with before your old boss finds us."

"He already has."

Elizabeth's blood ran cold. Jakob had to be joking, right? Cipher was supposed to be running interference, yet if Mr. Nobody and his friends were in town, this mission had become infinitely more complicated.

"You noticed that?" asked Luke.

"Hard not to," Jakob said. "Amateurs."

"Alright," Luke gestured. "Let's get inside. Beth, take point. I'll cover our six."

For a few seconds, Elizabeth's eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to remember just what that meant. Finally, the damn lightbulb in her head switched on as she pivoted and made a beeline for the hotel's rear service entrance.

Two seconds later, all hell broke loose.

Chapter Text

Soldiers. A whole squadron of them rushed down the alley from every direction, shouting demands, as if they thought that Luke might just throw his hands up and surrender.

Idiots.

Elizabeth and Jakob rushed inside with Luke was hot on their heels. He shut the heavy steel access door behind him and secured it with a chain and padlock which hung from the inner door handle. Luke caught up with Jakob just as Elizabeth cleared the adjoining corridor and gestured for them to follow.

Her head was on a swivel, eyes searching for trouble, mind focused. The enemy was behind them and likely ahead of them too, but she couldn't do anything about that. Evading them was the only thing that mattered right now. Getting the job done, getting back to the plane, and keeping them both alive.

They couldn't exactly rescue Sam if Luke was dead or locked up, could they?

She paused at the base of a flight of stairs that went up to the lobby. There was no sound, no indication of people, but the shadows weren't right. The dim lights shouldn't have been casting shadows like that. At least that's what her gut said.

People? Luggage? Both? There was an elevator for the porters so they had no use for stairwells, but the assholes now hunting them sure did.

Luke! Elizabeth waved at him, catching his attention, then gestured at the stairs. People?

If he said anything, she didn't hear it. Her heart was pounding in her ears, adrenaline pumping through her veins and pupils dilating as Elizabeth braced herself. She reached for the Glock on her thigh only for Luke's hand to close around hers, stopping her. He shook his head, signaled they were switching positions, and sent her to the rear.

Hobbs walked slowly into the stairwell, keeping his footsteps light. Despite his size, he had a knack for stealth—and surprises. Taking the steps two at a time, Luke kept his body low until he'd ascended the first flight of stairs and was almost about to turn onto the second.

Elizabeth strained her neck to see what was going on, but she couldn't see a damn thing past Jakob. He was too tall, too broad, too everything. What was the good-looking side of things where Jakob was concerned was quickly becoming the frustrating side.

"...Clear." Hobbs came back a minute after. "Let's go."

There was no time to change. No room for error. Either they got out of this hotel alive and free or they'd be crossing their fingers that the Agency was feeling merciful. Odds are, after what they'd done, merciful would be the total opposite of what they felt. Elizabeth lagged behind, taking the steps one at a time as she struggled to keep up. Running stairs wouldn't have been an issue a month ago, but with two cracked ribs, it was a little harder than usual.

Nothing she couldn't handle, though.

"Wait." She stopped at the top of the first set of stairs and found herself face to face with a map detailing the hotel's fire escape plan. "Hey! We need to—"

"Move your ass, princess!" Jakob said. "We don't have time for this."

They could make it. Elizabeth studied the map, looking at the first two floors in detail. If they went to the second instead of the first floor lobby, they could cross half the floor, get to the elevators, and have an almost clear shot to the front entrance. It wouldn't be easy, but that was the quickest route, no doubt about it.

"Beth!"

Elizabeth gave the escape plan one last glance before she started taking the stairs again, going as quickly as she could without feeling as if she were about to break something. She winced as she caught up to Jakob and Luke, then kept on going. If they wanted an explanation, it could wait until they were safely away from Nobody's men. Until there wasn't a proverbial gun to her head.

It took a few seconds but soon enough their footsteps were following hers, and then they were ahead of her. "Second floor," she said, putting her hand to her ribs. "Go left. Get to the elevators."

"Hey, you good?" Jakob looked down at her, frowning as Elizabeth stopped again. She winced visibly but didn't say anything, grabbing the handrail instead and leaning against it. "Elle?"

"I'm fine. Don't wait up. The elevators sit near the front door. You can get out that way."

"What the hell is taking so long?" Hobbs snapped. "Get your ass up, Shaw, and let's go. We don't have time to—"

Another breath and Elizabeth was taking the steps one at a time, forcing herself forward. Jakob could see the pain in her eyes, the determination; no matter what happened today, she wouldn't back down even if it killed her. Going off the way she was touching her side, that very might well be what happened.

Because Cipher didn't need him to kill Elizabeth, did she? Point Shaw in a certain direction, unleash her, and she would practically do the job herself.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" Elizabeth said, walking up past Luke. "Elevators are this way..."

She looked up at the door to the second floor, not too far away now, and frowned at a flash of blonde hair going past. From the back, she might have said it was Hattie, but that was insane, right? Her sister was somewhere in the UK, not here, even if Elizabeth had called her several times now in the hopes that Hattie might be able to help their brothers find Sam.

"You saw it too," Luke said, catching up to her, "didn't you?"

"I don't know what the hell I just saw."

"Yeah, you do." What were the odds of it being a coincidence? Surely Elizabeth didn't think some random blonde would be walking around while half a damn army was downstairs. "She's here."

It could've been anyone. No matter what Luke insisted, she'd be sceptical up until the moment there was irrefutable proof in front of her.

Proof that would come all too soon. Luke hustled them to the second floor then all three pulled their helmets on, hiding their faces before they stepped through the doorway. Elizabeth took point once more, leading the way to the elevators.

They were almost there, almost in the clear, when Luke heard it.

Elizabeth did too if the way she hesitated was any indication. She turned, looking behind her for a brief second, then jabbed the elevator button. Every second they stood there, Luke's heart skipped a beat. How long had it been since he and Hattie were in the same room? Since she made that promise and sealed it?

There was no mistaking her voice or the lilt of Hattie's London accent. Neither could he forget the sound of her laugh or the look of her smile. Luke certainly couldn't forget their first fight when she nearly choked him out with her leg.

Glancing back, Luke smiled under his helmet just before she turned around to look at him. In that instant, the elevator doors opened and Luke found himself pulled inside.

"...Hobbs!"

Hattie's shout faded into nothing as their descent toward the first floor began. The uneasy seconds ticked by until the elevator doors slid open, revealing the lobby, just as the adjacent stairwell door was thrown open and Hattie rushed out to intercept him.

To intercept...them.

Jakob exited the elevator first, making a beeline for the hotel's front door before anyone could react. Luke wasn't quite so fast, and neither was the woman beside him. For reasons unknown, they'd opted to abandon their helmets in the elevator, leaving their faces exposed. 

"...Beth?"

Something inside Elizabeth died in an instant. She didn't know what, but the why—the disappointment in her sister's eyes—was clear. She glanced up at Luke, who couldn't stop staring at Hattie, and frowned. No matter what she said, no one would likely ever believe anything but the worst case scenario, so why fight it?

"Hobbs." Elizabeth steeled her voice and walked out of the elevator, making for the door. "Let's go, or will your daughter be losing more than a finger today?"

"You touch Sam and I'll break your fucking neck."

Hattie had never heard anger like that come from Hobbs before, but it solidified what Deckard said. Luke really was being blackmailed, and they really did have Sam. She caught his gaze, frowning as he stepped out of the elevator. He was tense from head to toe, hand gripping his gun tight. If he'd pulled out his sidearm and shot Beth just then, Hattie wouldn't have blamed him.

Sam was his world, his heart, and she was being held God knew where, all so Cipher could use Hobbs like a puppet.

"Screw this up, I'll break hers."

Luke lunged, catching the back of her sister's gear and pushing Elizabeth spine first into the nearest wall. He drew his gun, pressing it up against her jaw with his finger teasing the trigger guard. One slip of his finger, one intentional press, and her sister would be dead. Oddly enough, Hattie felt no sorrow at that concept.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Your daughter's a nice kid. If you ever want to see her alive, be a good boy and walk out that door."

"Hobbs." Hattie's gaze darted between them. "It's true, isn't it? Cipher took..."

"Yes," Luke said. He lowered his sidearm, holstering it after a moment, and walked away like the devil was on his tail. Elizabeth was, two seconds later, when she pushed off the wall and followed him out. "I'm sorry. I don't have a choice."

"I'll find Sam. Dom, the team, and I, we'll find her. We'll get her back! I promise."

If only he could believe that. Luke looked over his shoulder at Hattie one more time before he exited the hotel, following Jakob and Elizabeth. His mind reeled at Elizabeth's words, but he understood why. It sold a story, and it would get the team onboard completely. There'd be no questions about his loyalty, whether he'd turned against them, like there probably had been these past few days.

Elizabeth had given them not one but two enemies, and a purpose: save his daughter.

"Hey," Luke said once they were in the clear, "you good?"

Instead of responding, she picked up the pace a little, jogging to catch up with Jakob, then slowed. Shaw threw her arm around his waist, hugging herself to him as they walked. Despite the distance, Luke could just make out what they were saying as Jakob put his arm around her shoulders.

"Why does it feel like I just signed my own death warrant?"

"Because you did," Jakob said, leading them toward their real target. "They'll turn against you now. Every single one of them."

"Well, they'd never believe I'm on his side anyway."

"You are a selfish, fickle bitch."

Elizabeth looked up and smiled. "I know."

"Hobbs," Jakob suddenly called over his shoulder and gestured at the building up ahead, "we're here. You ready?"

"Yeah." Luke caught up with them, taking up position on the other side of Shaw. He wanted to ask just what she'd meant by 'they'd never believe her', aside from the obvious, but that was a conversation for later. One which could wait until they were back in the cargo hold with a beer or two and hopefully a little less sober than they were now. "So how are we..."

Walking in through the front door, Shaw waved at the security guard. Luke couldn't tell what she was saying, but she walked straight up to a machine and pressed her face to it. A gate that divided the lobby and elevators opened a moment later and allowed Beth to continue walking.

"Let me guess," Luke said, "Cipher hacked the security system."

"You figure that out all by yourself, big boy?"

"Asshole."

"Noticed that too, huh?"

Jesus. If they weren't on opposite sides of the law, there was every possibility Luke might have found himself enjoying their little back and forth. It wasn't quite the same as it was with Deckard, but Jakob could hold his own nonetheless. They walked toward the building, going inside and passing through security. The bank of elevators was down a central corridor and off to the right, tucked out of sight.

"You two are slower than a couple of grandmothers at the farmers market." Up ahead, Shaw stood against the far wall, her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her boot against the floor. "Can we get this done already?"

"Jakob, you go ahead," Luke said. "We'll catch up in a minute."

Elizabeth looked at him warily, tensing as Luke approached. Jakob made a beeline for the elevator and called it, disappearing inside the moment the doors opened. Once the two of them were alone, Luke stepped close and angled his body toward her.

"Hey, I'm sorry about before."

"What?"

"The gun. Putting you against—"

She frowned at him like Luke had gone and put his foot in it. "Did Jakob say something to you?"

"No."

"Then why are you apologizing?"

"Elizabeth."

"That back there? That's your job. Your one job right now is to save your fucking daughter so don't stand there and apologize for doing it. Ever."

Clearly he'd hit a nerve.

Or several.

Elizabeth sidestepped him, ducking around him and jabbing the call button like she was ready to punch a hole through it. Everything about her was tense and ready as if Elizabeth were a bear anticipating a fight. If he poked her a couple times, would she bite his head off yet again or rip him in half this time?

"Beth."

Saved by the bell, the doors opened and the two of them stepped inside. Luke pushed the button for the third floor, taking up position against the elevator's side. Elizabeth copied him, attention focused on their sole entrypoint as if she didn't want to miss a single thing. He unclipped the strap on his holster, readying his sidearm to be drawn, bracing for the inevitable shitstorm.

For once, Luke was surprised to find he was correct. He fished out a set of molded earplugs from his breast pocket and slipped them in over his radio's earpieces, enabling Elizabeth to copy him two seconds later. The elevator doors opened onto the third floor balcony, revealing the open plan office below and Jakob crouched behind a desk.

"On me!" Luke drew his sidearm and rushed for the stairs, keeping his head down. Elizabeth tailed him, slower than he'd like, with her gun still holstered. She stayed low, hustling toward Jakob, head down and eyes focused on the floor. "You got a plan, asshole?"

"Don't die."

Great plan. What was next? Breathe? Luke glanced up just as a door on the east wall, far to his right, flung open and Nobody's men filed in like they were police in a goddamn Gilbert and Sullivan opera. He aimed just past their shoulders and fired, sending them scattering for cover, while Jakob got to his feet and started moving across the center of the floor.

"Beth, get your gun out."

Elizabeth pressed her back to the desk, fumbling with the strap on her holster. Her hands were shaking already, heart pounding in her chest; every bullet fired made her heartrate spike higher and sent adrenaline pumping through her veins despite the earplugs she wore to dull the sound. She swallowed, pupils dilated and eyes wide as she watched for anyone approaching.

"Hey!" Luke reached out and touched her cheek to draw her attention. "This isn't practice anymore. You can't freeze up. Draw your gun and stay low. Be ready to give Jakob cover."

He said it like it was so simple. As if she could just snap her fingers and get the flood of fear that was overwhelming her under control. She couldn't. Still, Elizabeth forced the holster open and wrapped her hand around the Glock, drawing it while Jakob dashed toward the far side of the room. She grit her teeth, resting the gun's barrel on the edge of the desk to stabilise it.

"Good. Keep your eyes on them, not him. I'll cover left, you cover right. You got that?"

No response.

"Beth, you copy me?"

She swallowed, trying to make her throat work before giving a single nod. "Copy," Elizabeth said in a voice so weak and fragile she could hardly believe it came from herself. "Copy th—"

Right. There was someone on her side, moving toward Jakob. Fuck. She couldn't do it. She couldn't squeeze the trigger, but what other choice did she have? Be ready to give Jakob cover. That was what he'd said, not shoot anyone who moves. Elizabeth lifted her arms and aimed at a light fixture that hung from the ceiling, gritting her teeth as her finger brushed against the trigger. She could do this. She could...

The sound of Luke's suppressed pistol firing next to her almost made her jump. The man on her side ducked for cover, allowing Jakob to reach his destination. He punched an access code into a panel, unlocked a door and ducked into the room.

I can't do this.

As much as she needed to, Elizabeth couldn't. She couldn't make her fingers work fast enough or keep her head clear and her mind focused for long enough. God, she just couldn't...

"Tasya!" Her head jerked up, attention suddenly drawn to the man beside her. Elizabeth stared at Luke, his face barely two inches from hers. "Look at me. Stay focused. You want to beat yourself up? Do it later. We need to keep Jakob alive and get out of here first."

"I can't...I'm sorry..."

Maybe it was time for a taste of her own medicine. Elizabeth could bite his head off later if she wanted so long as right in this moment, she was focused on the here and now. "Woman, what the fuck are you apologizing for? You have one job today: keep that asshole alive, and that's exactly what you're going to do. You hear me? Keep that ungrateful, two-faced sumbitch alive until we're back on the plane, then you can beat his ass to a pulp for all I care."

"Beat his arse to a..." Apparently the threat of violence worked. Elizabeth's eyes wrinkled at the corners and she pressed her lips together, curving up in the smallest smile he'd ever seen as she began to chuckle. "I don't think you've seen me in a proper fight before."

"I'm seeing you in a fight now. You ain't that bad."

"I can hardly throw a punch."

"Huh. Seems like you sure got plenty of time to learn to if you don't mind riding my dick for a while longer."

"Jesus Christ. You two know I can hear you."

"Assholes should be seen and not heard. Shut your mouth, boy."

She hadn't run, hadn't cowered; Elizabeth was struggling, but to her credit she wasn't backing down.

If she could keep this up until they got back to the plane, Elizabeth would be one step closer to where she needed to be. Luke squeezed off a shot, covering both right and left. It was clear now she wouldn't be pulling the trigger any time soon, but at least she'd tried. He would give her that—Elizabeth had held that gun, aimed, and tried.

The rest didn't matter as long as she kept struggling, kept fighting, until the moment he had Sam in his arms. If Shaw managed that, Luke just might find that shred of respect inside him turning into something a whole lot closer to admiration.

"I'm coming out. Get ready." The door popped open, but instead of coming forward to meet them, Jakob ran towards the west wall where a lone door sat undisturbed. "Hobbs, I'll cover you. Get your asses over here. We're done."

"You go first," Luke said, grabbing Elizabeth by the vest and pulling her up with him. He laid down cover fire simultaneously with Jakob, driving Nobody's men to duck and dive. "Move!"

The quicker they got out, the quicker they—

"Shit!" Pain seared hot through his left arm as a lucky bullet struck him, sending blood oozing down his bicep. "Son of a...You got any patches on you?"

Jakob pulled out a packet of quikclot and tore it open once they reached him, handing the gauze to Hobbs who promptly sealed his wound with it. It was only a graze, but the bullet had taken a large enough chunk of flesh with it that Hobbs would definitely be feeling the injury for a while.

"Exit's this way," Jakob said. "Let's go!"

This time, Elizabeth moved on her own, rushing for the door and getting through first while Jakob and Hobbs covered her. There was nothing in her head now. No thoughts, no fear, only a desperate need to survive and get back onboard Cipher's plane.

Jakob passed her moments later, rushing into the small corridor and going straight for a flight of stairs at the end of it. Hobbs was on his ass, holstering his gun and taking the steps three at a time. Elizabeth kept to her own pace, going slower than she'd like. It wasn't long until the two were well ahead of her and completely out of sight, forcing her to continue despite the feeling in her gut that said they were being herded toward something.

Toward...freedom?

Elizabeth pushed the door at the base of the stairs open, finding herself face to face with a car. Jakob sat in the driver's seat while the rear passenger door sat open, waiting for her.

Standing on the SUV's foot rail, Hobbs held his free hand out to her. She took it, pulling herself up and into the car. He slid in after her, slamming the door shut and clipping in just before Jakob floored it.

"This isn't over yet," Jakob said, checking his rearview. "Keep your eyes open. If your sister's here, the others are..."

"Don't react."

Elizabeth stilled, glancing at Luke as the world fell away and became a single voice in her ear.

"I've isolated their frequencies from yours. Cipher can't hear me either. Scratch your left cheek if you understand."

She did.

"Good. If you're wondering how I can see you, the vehicle's bugged. There's a camera built into the rearview. Another in the overhead light."

Oh. Was that all?

"I want his daughter's location now. Take that phone from your pocket and type the address out. You have one minute."

She should have known something like this would happen. Hattie always had some ace up her sleeve. A backup plan for her backup plan or some means of changing the status quo and wrestling back control. Today, that wouldn't work for once. Least of all due to the fact Hattie was so far from being in the loop she couldn't see it.

"Thirty seconds, Elizabeth. Stop messing around. Give me Sam's location or the only thing you'll be seeing for the rest of your miserable life is steel bars and concrete walls."

"That's cute, Hatts. Say goodbye to your boyfriend while you can," Elizabeth murmured, leaning her head against the window. "After I'm done with him, you'll hardly recognize the man."

She switched off her radio and pulled her earwig out, disconnecting the setup from her belt, and tossed it all on the floor. Luke glanced at her before reaching down and doing the same to his own radio, though he left it attached to his belt. Apparently he'd heard her, or maybe Hattie had been in his ear too. Whatever the reason, the movement made Jakob notice what Hobbs was doing and disconnect his own comms.

"Hattie in your ear too?" Luke said, feigning a yawn. He sat back, keeping his attention on the cars outside their own. Jakob was working his way through the city, switching lanes when necessary and getting them the hell out of Dodge before anything else could go wrong. "What'd she say?"

"Wanted Sam's location."

"She took the bait," said Luke.

"Uh-huh."

At least now they had more than a fighting chance. They had the team on their side whether Dom and the others knew it or not, and the more people searching for Sam, the better. As long as they believed he was on their side, as long as the team was willing to help instead of turning their backs on him, that was all that mattered.

He glanced at her, frowning as if she'd said something cruel. "You think she's still watching?"

"Yes."

That should've been the obvious answer. Of course she was. This was Hattie they were talking about. As long as there was a threat, she would do her best to neutralize it. Sitting around and waiting wasn't exactly her style, even if the threat in question was her own sister. "Alright. Unclip and move closer. Put your arm around me."

"What?"

"Your sister's a pretty good shot, but now she won't be able to hit you without hitting me."

Elizabeth unclipped herself, sliding across the seat toward him, and quickly strapped back in. She laced her right arm around his shoulders, leaning up toward his left ear, and said, "You'd better be right about this."

"I am." Luke turned to face her, staring at Elizabeth like she'd just pissed in his cornflakes. If worse came to worst and someone tried to intercept them, crashing the car in the process, he could grab her now too. Stop her from cracking any more ribs. He owed her that at least. "Now put your knife to my throat. Keep talking."

"What is this, Hobbs?"

"You want to sell being the enemy? Get your knife out."

She did as instructed, angling it up and pressing it flat against his throat. Elizabeth threw in a glare for good measure—all that hatred she kept under wraps coming to the surface—before asking, "What now?"

"Dealer's choice."

Dropping her right arm, Shaw dug her thumb into his bullet wound. Luke didn't have to feign his injury or pretend how much pain was flaring through his arm right then. "Just so we're clear, there'll be no picking up where we left off this morning. You want a shag? Save your kid, find my sister, and enjoy your lives together."

"Great idea," Luke said, gritting his teeth as Elizabeth dug in even deeper. "There's just one problem: I don't want your sister."

Chapter Text

"You don't want my...What kind of idiot are you?"

Try as Luke might, he couldn't help but crack. The kind of body-shaking, unexpected laugh that had a smile spreading over his face, forcing him to clap his hand over his mouth as he began to wheeze. A laugh apparently so infectious even Elizabeth started to smile before a car struck the door she'd been sitting beside only moments ago.

The impact sent their SUV spinning, sliding across the road as it went, headed toward the curb. Luke threw his left arm across Elizabeth's chest, forcing her back against the seat and keeping her there while he jammed his own body into the corner. They were almost at the edge of the city now, with more space to maneuver and—clearly—more space to fight. The SUV slowed as it mounted the sidewalk until Jakob wrestled back control, reversed, and got them pointing in the right direction.

Fingers crossed Cipher was monitoring from above, otherwise they were going to have their asses handed to them. One car, three people? Those weren't the kinds of numbers that won road fights, Jakob thought as he gunned it for the highway.

"Beth," Luke said, grip tight as he held her, "you good?"

"Yeah." She didn't try to move or sit up. Maybe it was the shock, or the sight of the metal door bulging inwards, cutting into the space where Elizabeth's left leg would've been if she were still sitting there. "How long until..."

"We've got the intel," Jakob said, using the car's main radio. "Now we need a lift. Hattie's on our ass. Reisner's here too. Anywhere you can land?"

No reply came. In its place was heavy static. Hattie had jammed that signal too, it seemed. Either she was just that good, Jakob figured, there was a mole on the plane, or Cipher had foreseen this and allowed it to happen. Whichever the answer, it wouldn't help thinking about it now. The only thing they needed to focus on right then was survival.

"There's two XM7s under your seat. Use them. Either we survive this or we'll all be locked up by the end of the day. That means we can't afford for you to hesitate, Princess."

She met Jakob's gaze via the rearview mirror and nodded. "I know."

Luke let go of Beth and reached down with his right hand, pulling out a duffel bag from beneath the seat. He unzipped it to reveal three guns and a cache of loaded magazines. "This," he tapped the stock, "goes against your shoulder. Let it dig in. Keep the safety off until we're in the clear. And whatever you do—"

"Don't worry," Elizabeth said, "your arse is too nice to shoot."

He handed her one of the rifles, aligning it properly with her shoulder as Elizabeth lifted it. "Get your earplugs in. Drop your window when I do. Aim at their tyres. Whatever's in your crosshairs is what you should hit."

"I don't think the window will..." Elizabeth fell silent as Jakob pressed a button on the steering wheel, triggering the window to lower. It jammed at three quarters down, but there was still enough space to maneuver. "Thanks, Pretty Boy."

"Thank me when we're safe."

Once Shaw was sorted and in position, Luke got organized himself as the SUV reached the highway. It would only be a matter of time until the shit hit the fan, and Luke was more ready for it than he'd ever been. Elizabeth too, it seemed. She'd strapped herself back in, planted her feet solid on the floor, and had the stock pressed into her shoulder.

"Elizabeth?"

She glanced back over her shoulder at Hobbs. "What?"

"Don't miss."

Cars scattered ahead of them like rats scurrying for cover, not knowing where to go, only that they didn't want to be in the path of whatever was coming. Offramps and exits rapidly filled, leaving only Jakob, Elizabeth and himself in their SUV, accompanied by three other cars. Hattie drove one—Luke could see that clear as day—with Little Nobody in a second, and the third...

"You got a death wish, don't you, you stupid, arrogant baldass sumbitch?" Luke scowled, staring at Deckard. He could see the IV drip hanging out of his arm, Shaw's hospital gown barely covered by a loose shirt and pants. "Oh, I'd whoop your ass, boy, if you weren't already halfway to—"

Taking aim, Elizabeth stared through the scope at the passenger seat of Deckard's car. Her finger trembled against the trigger before tensing. Suddenly, the SUV jerked left, just as her body was pulled backwards, and the gun kicked hard against her shoulder.

Shit.

Deckard's face twisted into one of pure rage and the car shot forward, speeding towards them. The hole in the front windshield was obvious, along with the impact. The center console, not one inch from his hand, had been struck and ripped open.

"I said aim for the tires," Luke said, releasing his grip on Shaw's vest once she was safely back on the seat. "Not the hand your brother jerks off with."

"Wouldn't be much of a loss. He doesn't use it for anything other than wanking to the sound of his own voice!"

Give him two more weeks. Just two weeks and oh, Luke would be running his mouth like a motherfucker. There was no one present with any interest in holding him back, no one to discourage him from fighting everything and everyone in his path, or to stop him going down a dark road he'd diverted himself from following many times before.

No one except himself, that was.

And if anything, Luke had a feeling that Elizabeth would only encourage his descent into Hell. She'd be his Virgil with that smile just waiting to slip out and entice him deeper until they reached the ninth circle itself.

Talk about a bad influence.

Maybe that was why she'd rubbed Hattie's face in it. Maybe her sister knew as well as Elizabeth did that once she got her claws into someone, there was no undoing the damage she could cause.

"Don't I know it," Luke said, and there was that subtle smile again. It faded the moment Deckard and Hattie attempted to box them in, with Deckard on Elizabeth's side and Hattie on Luke's. Jakob slowed briefly as a plane-sized shadow suddenly passed over them. "Ah, and here comes your brother's competition for the title of world's most self-obsessed wanker."

In an instant, something burst inside Elizabeth. A dam that clearly held back everything bright and colorful about her because she started to laugh. Genuine, honest to God laughter that made him sit up and pay attention, wondering just where it'd come from. Wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes, her belly shook, and Elizabeth's smile turned to a grin. One she tried to hide by ducking her head and partly covering her mouth with her hand.

The SUV swerved, diverting around Hattie, and began gaining speed. Jakob had to be pushing the car to its absolute limits, getting close enough to the ramp for the SUV's hood to be over it.

But none of it mattered.

Another car—one they hadn't seen, waiting in the wings—came rushing toward them. Jakob swerved again to avoid it, dropping back and bypassing the plane completely.

"We're taking the contingency," Jakob said, glancing back at them. "Rendezvous point Bravo is where we'll meet Cipher. It's fifty klicks west."

Only fifty? Oh, that was a walk in the park. Luke looked behind them, watching the now four cars give chase. Deckard, Hattie, Reisner and...

"Owen," Beth murmured, staring at the cars. She'd strapped herself in again, assault rifle still clutched in her trembling hands with the safety on. "Shit. Why the hell is he here? He got..."

"Keep an eye out for Toretto!" Jakob said, taking the nearest off ramp. "If they're here, he can't be far behind."

"I don't think so," Luke said, pushing himself up. "Deckard's in a gown with an IV hanging out of his vein. He didn't plan this. He saw a chance and took it."

The Shaws were hounding their asses. When one got close, they dropped back just as the next neared. Chasing them, driving them in a certain direction, but there was one thing they'd forgotten.

There was help from on high.

A large shell struck the road behind their SUV, sending Deckard and the others scattering like rats. It was enough of a distraction for Jakob to take the offramp, allowing him to put some distance between themselves and the Shaw. Weaving his way through traffic wasn't easy, but mounting the curb helped to pass most of it until they reached a set of lights that continued in every direction.

The Shaws were behind them somewhere and, no doubt, God's Eye was watching...

If they drove, they could get further while risking being boxed in.

But if they ditched their car, moved on foot, they could hide better yet risked being caught or shot.

Neither was optimal. No, they needed to get out of the city fast. Get off the ground too if they could. Luke ran through every possible plan in his head, eyes scanning his surroundings for anything that might give them somewhere to hide or...

"What's the time?" Luke asked.

"Thirteen hundred." Jakob's response was automatic. "Leaving the city won't be easy. Options?"

"Club, hotel, library, stadium, sports bar?" Luke suggested. "Raiders are playing today, I think."

"Strip club." Jakob and Elizabeth both spoke, looking at each other as some unspoken message passed between them. "Get on your phone," Jakob continued. "Find us one."

Shaw did, pulling it out of her back pocket, searching and scrolling through results. She frowned, almost scowling, like the phone wasn't telling her what she needed to know. Beth tilted her head, seeming to think of something, then smiled and started typing in something else.

"Change of plans," she said, thrusting the phone into Jakob's line of sight. "Hotel. Think you can get us there?"

"A hotel means we're trapped," Luke said. What the hell were the two of them thinking? "We need somewhere—"

Elizabeth handed Jakob the phone then leaned back, fixing her hair and starting to undo the straps on her vest. She reached under the seat, feeling for something, then pulled out a large duffel bag. "Start getting dressed. Now."

She picked up the assault rifle and smashed the overhead light then leaned forward and did the same to the rearview mirror, breaking it off and throwing it out the side window. Elizabeth didn't explain herself, but given Hattie had been in their ears, watching them, it was safe to assume those were where the cameras sat.

"You're going to have to help me when you're done," Shaw said, looking at him seriously. "I can't get this vest off myself."

Luke nodded and started ditching his tactical gear, stripping down to his briefs right there in the car while Elizabeth fished out a set of clothes for him. She dumped an entire four piece suit and wristwatch next to him then pulled out what he could only think of as the kind of outfit that suited a secretary in an X-rated movie—a white shirt, belt, and a very short grey skirt that wouldn't hide anything the minute she leaned down.

"Woman, where the hell are we going?"

"Home."

But she was...Shit. She'd said a hotel. No doubt like the one he'd found her working in, which meant it was likely Russian-owned and operated by the mob. For all intents and purposes, that was home, wasn't it?

"You sure about this?" Luke asked. "We can go somewhere else. If anyone recognizes you—"

"We'll be protected. That's all that matters."

Not that it would matter at all if they didn't survive this thing. The car shook with the impact of being bumped. Luke looked outside to see they had company—Owen Shaw rode their ass with Reisner in tow—and frowned. They needed to disappear, get underground, not run to a hotel while the assholes chased them.

Yet if it was the safest option...

"Jakob," Elizabeth said, starting to undo the straps of her vest, "phone."

She fed him a number to call and had it put on loud speaker. No questions, no arguments, just Shaw seemingly stepping up to some plate. The phone rang, and rang, until it seemed like no one would pick up, then...

"Who is this?"

"Sergey Andreyevich?"

"Speaking?"

"Yuri Vladimirovich is sending an associate to visit. He has an interest in sales, but there's been some interference. Can you send an escort? They're driving toward your hotel now."

"Now?"

"Unless you'd like Lena and Misha to face the consequences of your inaction."

"Suka—Where are they?"

Luke gave the nearest cross street before Elizabeth hung up. Once she did, he removed her flak vest and started tugging down her zipper. In any other situation, he might have cracked a joke but the serious look on her face said Shaw's sense of humor had been thrown out the window. She got dressed as quickly as she was able to, slipping on a stylish silver watch of her own and leaving all but the bottom three buttons on her shirt undone.

"You want me to talk," said Luke, "or stand there and look pretty?"

"The latter. That goes for both of you. If Sergey realizes what's going on, he'll kill us, no questions asked. The man is a paranoid piece of shit."

"And if he—" Tyres screeched somewhere in the distance, then there were three black sedans rushing toward them. They quickly took up protective positions and boxed them in, blocking out Deckard and the rest of his team. Luke sat back against the seat, as casual as he could be, like none of this fazed him. Elizabeth attempted to do the same, but she winced each time. Instead, she leaned into him, relaxing as best she could with her cheek against his bicep. "You said this is the mob, right? How about we trade jobs today? I'll do the talking, you figure out how to keep us alive."

"It's fine. I can handle it."

"You're injured, princess," Jakob glanced back at her, "and although you've got the largest balls I've seen on a woman, we both know his dick's still bigger than yours. You stand there and look pretty this time. Let us handle the rest."

"Listen to your boyfriend. Be our winged fierce tiger instead."

There was a flicker of recognition in Elizabeth's eyes when she looked up at Luke, lips curved in subtle amusement. "You're quoting Zhuge Liang at me?"

"Yes."

She pursed her lips, the conflict all too apparent on her face. Elizabeth didn't cede control to anyone. Not willingly at least. That much Luke had figured out in the first two weeks of them working together. Neither did he, for that matter, but if Shaw didn't get off the proverbial plate, Luke would damn well drag her back to the dugout and make her sit this one out. "...Okay."

Okay? That was it? No argument or fight or...Elizabeth winced as she moved, her breathing shallow and uneven. She had pushed herself pretty far today, and it seemed that was plenty enough to leave her a little less argumentative than usual.

Luke put his arm around her waist, and Shaw settled in even more. She twined her arm around his, grasping his forearm loosely. "How long has it been since you..."

"A while." She only managed to get out two words before the car on their right was struck from behind. Craning his neck to look, Luke frowned at the sight of his former brother in arms trying to force some room for himself. Deckard went to hit them again and the entire convoy sped up, taking a left at the next intersection and going straight for an underground parking lot. "Alright, this is it. We need to—"

"Nine o'clock!" Jakob yelled, flooring it as a car came speeding toward them. It hit the vehicle guarding their left, driving it into them, trying to push them away from the ramp that led down to safety. "Hold onto something."

With one hand, Luke grabbed the roof handle and braced his right leg against the empty passenger seat in front of him. He used his other arm to pull Elizabeth in closer, securing her against his body. No hello, no how are you, just a face full of pectoral muscle and her waist locked in a death grip.

"God, even your tits are bigger than mine," Elizabeth muttered into his chest. "Now that's a little unfair."

"You jealous?"

"Maybe."

Luke couldn't help but chuckle. Right now he needed to focus, though. No distractions or snarky women talking about the size of his pecs. Jakob pushed forward as the front car sped down into the underground garage, giving them just enough space to move and avoid an oncoming Deckard. He slammed into the car behind them instead, and finally they were plunging into a dimly lit level one, playing follow the leader all the way to another ramp. Down to level two, then three, until they came to an emergency fire stairwell.

Their escort signaled them to get out.

They did.

"Fuck was that?" The driver shouted as the three of them climbed out. "Sergey says get in car, I get in car. I don't sign up to die."

"I'm marrying their sister," Luke said, bracing himself for a fight. "They don't like that very much."

The awkwardness dissolved in an instant as the driver chuckled and gestured for them to follow him into the stairwell. "We go up two floors, change cars, then go to hotel. You are safe now, eh?"

"Sir?" Jakob looked toward Luke, still wearing his tac gear. Without it, Cipher wouldn't be able to track them, and that would be an issue when it was time to get picked up. "We should get inside before they try anything else."

"In a second." He slid his hand down Elizabeth's back, and kept on going. She smiled at him, all that intelligence and cunning suppressed—it was strangely uncomfortable to look at her and see nothing but the gaze of an empty-headed woman who wanted only to please him. "Mila?"

"Yes?"

"Don't go wandering off now."

"I won't." Elizabeth giggled into his chest as he squeezed her ass. Doing that, treating her like a goddamn piece of meat, didn't sit right at all, but there was no question she'd tear him a new one after all this bullshit was over if Luke didn't do his job and play his role just as well. "Do you need anything else, sir?"

"What do you think?"

"We have company..."

"I don't care about them, sweetheart. They ain't why you're here."

"Of course."

Luke straightened himself out, looking Jakob in the eye. "You go on ahead. Make sure these Russians have what I want and that they're not trying to screw us. Dimitri here can keep you company."

Their escort frowned but said nothing as Jakob started walking upstairs, forcing him to move as well and leaving the two of them behind. Playing the asshole was both easier and harder than Luke expected, yet it was the shit coming out of his mouth he despised. The cold, harsh tone that suggested he might hurt Mila if she didn't do what she was told.

As soon as the fire exit door shut and Jakob was out of sight, Luke let his shoulders drop, released his grip on Elizabeth, and leaned up against the car behind him. "How am I doing?"

"For a rich piece of shit with a trophy on his arm, you're doing fine."

"Beth."

"Grab whatever you want as long as it's not the stomach. I'll freeze on instinct."

So that's why she'd tensed up in the hangar the other day. Jakob had put his arms around her and for a second, it'd been like Elizabeth wanted to get the hell out of Dodge. Not just escape him but her own skin. "Yuri really did a number on you, huh?"

"You try waking up to a knife in your gut. Scares the shit out of you."

"You know why he did it?"

"Yeah. He thought I was pregnant."

"Were you?"

Elizabeth looked away. He knew a haunting when he saw one, and she was sure as hell haunted by this, no doubt about it. Shaw swallowed, barely managing to get the words out when she said, "...Not anymore."

"Jesus."

She scoffed and started walking toward the stairs. "He left Russia a long fucking time ago. You coming or what? The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we're on the..."

"What?"

"I just thought of something."

"No shit. Care to share it with the class?"

"You got a picture of Sam on you?"

"On my phone. Yeah."

"Good. We'll get the mob to do half the work for us."

"You want them to search for my daughter."

"Yes. We need eyes on the ground. Right now, we don't have any. They do."

Luke smiled and walked after her, grabbing Elizabeth's hand and pulling her against him. She barely resisted, opting to rest her cheek against his bicep and loop her right arm around his forearm yet again. "You know something? You and I make one hell of a team, woman."

"I say this with complete sincerity: you're delusional. Now wipe that smile off your face. Getting your dick wet doesn't mean you have to act like the village idiot."

"Call me an idiot again and see what happens."

"I'll save you the anticipation. You have two options: kiss me or grab my arse. The choice is yours...idiot."

Chapter Text

Actually, he had three.

The third was ignore her and catch up to Jakob.

Luke did exactly that, sweeping Shaw up with him and taking her upstairs. She didn't protest at all, especially not once they were face to face with Jakob and guy-now-known-as-Dimitri.

"You good, boss?"

"Yeah," said Luke. "Let's get down to business. Where's the car?"

Dimitri signaled a waiting hippy van. It pulled up in front of them and the side door slid open, revealing four seats. Discrete, unexpected, and straight out of the 60s, there wasn't a chance in Hell any of the Shaws or Eric himself would be expecting them to drive out in that thing.

"Ladies first." Luke could see just the slightest hint of anguish on her face at her current inability to insult him and get away with it. "Mila?"

They were in the van and out of the parking lot inside of three minutes, taking a rear exit to a back street and going straight for the hotel. Luke didn't release the tension from his body until they were seated in a VIP lounge above a bar, with armed guards outside the door and drinks on the table. A woman with a low, husky voice sang somewhere on a stage downstairs in Spanish, strumming a guitar every now and again.

"How long we planning on staying here?"

"Sunset," Jakob said, relaxing at the end of the five-seater lounge he and Luke occupied. "Once the sun's down, we leave. Until then, enjoy the show, I guess."

Elizabeth stood at the railing, looking over the first floor, back pressed against the wall and eyes moving from face to face then back again. Luke didn't ask what she was searching for or whether she'd found it. The way she smoothed out her skirt with her hands and clenched her fists only to unclench them seconds later screamed she was on edge.

"Mila?"

"It's not smart to walk into the bear's den while the bear is home. If there's even the slightest chance Sergey recognizes me—"

"Have you ever met him?"

"Not properly, but I've been in a room with him."

"Then he won't recognize you," Jakob said. To assholes like these guys, women were a piece of furniture, but he didn't need to explain that. The three of them all knew it as well as anyone. "If you're concerned, you can wait out the back. Hobbs and I will take care of business."

"No."

"Fine. I'll do it myself," Jakob continued. "You two wait."

"Sit on my lap facing me. He won't recognize you and you can watch via the mirror," Luke said. Behind them lining the rear wall was an array of mirrors. No doubt intended so whoever was up here could see their own private strip show from all angles. "Whisper in my ear and I'll do the talking."

"Excuse me?"

"This is where you're drawing the line, Beth?"

"It's the facing you part I have a problem with."

"Let me remind you, all of this was your plan. You want to blow it now or—"

The door creaked and Elizabeth didn't move from the railing so much as glide. She approached him as the door opened, grasping the back of the lounge and seating herself on Luke's lap, as Sergey whatever-the-fuck-his-patronymic-was walked in.

"Is this better, sir?"

"Yes, it is, sweetheart," Luke said, putting his hands on her bare thighs. "Now how about you sit there and keep me warm while we talk business."

"Yuri Vladimirovich sent you?" Sergey said, taking a seat on the lounge chair opposite theirs. A low table divided them, keeping the piece of shit well out of arm's reach. "To me?"

"My boss is interested in a certain sale," Jakob said. "Perhaps it's via you, perhaps your competition, but one of you has what we want and so we're looking to buy. Whomever delivers it first will get the money."

"A sale."

"A girl. Ten years old." Luke pulled out his phone and found the first photo of Sam that didn't show her smiling. "Someone has her. I'd like to buy her."

"I'm afraid we don't deal in children."

"That's not what they say in Peter," Elizabeth whispered in his ear. Luke repeated her words a moment later, watching as Sergey began to subtly squirm in his seat. The mobster cleared his throat and reached for his pocket, pulling out a small bag of sunflower seeds to chew on. "Go to Sergey, Yura said. He can help."

"...I suppose we can make some phone calls," Sergey said. "Maybe someone has seen this girl. How much is she worth?"

"Fifty thousand. Triple it if she's unharmed and delivered within one month."

"For a child?"

"He's a man of discerning taste." Jakob's stomach churned as he said the words. He'd had a gut feeling that Elizabeth would use this situation to her advantage, and as long as Cipher wasn't monitoring them, Jakob would give her and Hobbs the bare minimum of leeway. "Someone stole her. We want her back. If that doesn't interest you, we'll be speaking to the Serbians later."

"Mila, I'm feeling a little cold," Luke said, squeezing Elizabeth's legs. "How about a kiss?"

"Yes, sir." Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him and leaned forward, bringing her body as close to Luke's as she dared. She slanted her mouth over his, kissing him while Luke brought his hand up and grasped her through her skirt. There was a hitch in her breath, a low groan, as his fingers cupped the shape of her ass. "Is that all you'd like?"

"No. Get on your knees."

The look she gave him screamed 'what the fuck?' but Elizabeth moved anyway, positioning herself on the carpet between his legs. She kept her head straight, eyes on his lower chest, and waited.

"She's a very good girl." Luke tapped the phone. "And I want her back. Find her for me and I'll pay you. Cross me and Mila here will be given a different order. It's amazing what you can teach a whore to do with the right incentive. When it's kill or be killed, she's quite the violent bitch. Yuri used her to kill his enemies and I intend to do the same."

Elizabeth gazed up at Luke, struggling to suppress the smirk growing on her face. Clearly that wasn't where she'd expected him to go, but the threat seemed to work. Sergey stood up and took the phone, nodding and excusing himself like getting out of the room was the only thing on his mind. As soon as the door closed, Luke relaxed back against the lounge and smiled as Elizabeth helped herself to a seat on his lap again.

"Huh," she said, looping her arms around his neck. "Apparently I underestimated you. You're not just a badge and a nice arse after all."

Luke rested his forehead against her shoulder, body trembling with the laughter he couldn't let out. "I bet you say that to all the boys."

"Only the pretty ones."

"Using the mob to find your kid under Cipher's nose is smart," Jakob said, "but it's not going to work. Cipher won't be keeping her somewhere that's easily found."

"Trying is still better than sitting up there, twiddling my thumbs while my baby girl is locked in a room and scared out of her goddamn mind. Hell, I wake up every day wanting to put a bullet in Cipher's head but I can't until Sam is safe."

"So you really don't know where Sam is." Elizabeth looked up at Jakob. "Not the faintest clue?"

"Everything's compartmentalized. You know only what's required to get the job done. I wasn't involved in taking Hobbs' daughter and I doubt anyone on the plane was either. Cipher's running a full ground team. Roberts and the guys? They're just protection after the last time Deckard was let loose."

Great. That meant they had more than one bunch of assholes to contend with. Luke groaned and leaned back against the couch, forcing Elizabeth to let go or move with him. She chose the latter, shifting positions on his lap so she could bring her knees up and sit sideways. He placed his hand on her lower back out of habit and didn't move it, leaving the three of them just sitting there, waiting for Sergey to return or someone to walk through that door with a gun and start shooting.

Fortunately, Sergey came back, unarmed. "Half upfront, half upon delivery."

"Nothing upfront, the entirety upon delivery." Luke said. "I'm not paying for failure."

"Half—"

"Ten percent," Shaw whispered in Luke's ear. "I'll front you the money."

Sergey seemed to settle when it dawned on him ten was a lot better than nothing and that Luke wouldn't give another inch. Hands were shaken, a bank account given, and once again the mobster was gone.

This time Jakob walked out of the room with him, ensuring Sergey wasn't going to screw them over. Elizabeth helped herself to the newly available space on the couch and laid down on her side, closing her eyes. Luke didn't ask if she was in pain, or if this was all too familiar for her—the last thing he wanted right now was to talk.

Paying the Russian mob to find his daughter? In what world did he hire criminals to...No, nevermind, that was the dumbest question in his head right now. In a world where his daughter had been kidnapped, what wouldn't he do to get Sam back?

"Is it fucked up if I say I kind of miss this life?" Elizabeth said, breaking the silence. She tucked her arm under her head and laid there, not moving a single muscle. "It was so much easier. Go here, shag this guy, listen to him whinge about his problems and pretend to care."

"Are you pretending now?"

"Don't go there."

"So you are."

"Hobbs."

"Don't play me, Elizabeth."

"Play you? In contrast to what you did at the start of this? Threatening my brothers?" She pushed herself upright and faced him. "Don't be stupid. I'm not pretending and you know it."

"Actually, I don't know a goddamn thing."

"So you really are an idiot."

"Woman." The look in his eyes turned dark. Not just cold detachment but a shoot first, ask questions later level of 'don't fuck with me'. Jaw clenched, Luke stared at her, waiting for another word to come out of her mouth. Instead, she approached him and pushed him back against the couch, straddling him. "I told you not to call me that.'

"You want to be a team?" she said. "Fine. I'm with you. I'm on your side. Your bitch on a leash. Whatever you want to call it. I'm yours, you bloody idi—"

He pulled her sideways onto the couch, and all but dragged her into the kind of kiss that made Elizabeth's legs close around his waist. She kissed him like she wanted to devour him while he dug his fingers into the backs of her upper thighs, gripping her tight enough that there'd no doubt be bruises tomorrow.

"Shit," Elizabeth groaned. "Baiting me into an argument is low. Even for you."

"Shut up." He gripped her thighs tighter, pulling her flush with his body. "For today, just shut your goddamn mouth, Beth. Sit there, be quiet, and do what you're told. If I hear another word out of you—"

She dragged herself over the length of him, angling her hips just so, and Luke's dick jumped in his pants. With that miniskirt on, there was almost nothing between them save for a thin piece of cotton.

"You'll what? Put a dick in my mouth? I am your partner. Me. Not Jakob or Deckard or Toretto. It's you and I. We're a team and if I have to pound that into your thick skull, I will."

"Elizabeth."

"I have had a long fucking day so you can kiss me or walk out now. It's your choice."

Fat chance of that happening. Luke flipped them over with ease, pressing her into the couch cushion and staring down at her. "What did I just tell you?"

Shaw scowled but didn't say a word, lips pressed together in a barely restrained pout. She couldn't just stop talking, could she? Not for even a few minutes so Luke was able to process just what the hell he'd done.

What she'd said.

What they were doing to each other...

All this—it was insane. It wasn't the kind of man Luke was. God, this wasn't him at all. This wasn't right either. Not before, not now, not the way they were biting each other's heads off at the slightest provocation.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Jesus fucking Christ, he wasn't going to survive another week of this. Not with his soul, his principles, still intact. Cipher had his daughter but Elizabeth was the one pulling him apart piece by piece—toying with him and cracking him open to see what made Luke tick.

"You and Jakob can handle the rest." He got up, fixed his suit and walked toward the door, leaving Elizabeth to lay there. "I'll be downstairs getting a drink."

She didn't say anything or even look at him as he left the VIP lounge. Beth just stayed on the couch and stared at the ceiling with her words playing on a loop in her head.

I'm with you. I am your partner. Me. It's you and I.

"...What the fuck did you do?"

Elizabeth tucked her arm under her head and dropped her gaze to look at Jakob, standing in the doorway with his hand on his sidearm. "I put Hobbs back where he belongs. I can't...It was supposed to be easy, but it's only been three days and he's already cracked my chest open and shoved my soul back in."

"It?"

"I told him to seduce me. The making out, the flirting, it was meant to distract Cipher."

Jakob scoffed. "You really thought that would work on her? Come on, Princess. She's probably laughing her ass off waiting for you two to tear each other apart because right now, Cipher's ten steps ahead. Always has been. You won't ever beat her by playing the game like that."

"Great speech, Jake. Really supportive."

"Oh, you want the attagirl and a pat on the head for doing the right thing. Yeah, it's not happening." He sat on the end of the couch, allowing Elizabeth to lift her head and rest it on his leg. "Hobbs say where he was going?"

"Downstairs."

"Care for a drink?"

"Why not? We're stuck here until sunset, right?"

"I'm thinking we leave in thirty. Have them drive us out to the rendezvous point. You got any better ideas?"

"Get blind drunk. That's always—"

"Luke?" Hattie's voice carried from the bar downstairs as the music suddenly cut off. "I'm just here to talk, but first I need you to tell me where Jakob and my sister are."

Elizabeth pushed herself up slowly and slid off the couch, staying low and moving toward the door as Jakob did the same. She pressed her back to the wall and waited for him to clear the door before they ducked outside, still crouched, and rushed into the hallway.

"How the hell did they find us? The hotel is supposed to be on an airgapped system."

"Hobbs' phone isn't."

Fuck.

The lights switched off, plunging the building into darkness. Jakob let out a huff and pulled on a set of night vision goggles tucked behind his vest. "Stay low. I'll guide you. Keep going forward."

"We need to go downstairs and grab him. We can't go back without Hobbs."

"He can take care of himself. We need to get out before your brothers find us."

"Jakob."

"It's us or him. I choose—"

"Him. Get yourself out. I'll be fine."

Elizabeth crossed the corridor blindly and felt for the wall. The moment they'd stepped inside the hotel, she was already trying to map the place out in her head. Looking down every corridor, wide-eyed and awed, building a mental image of just where the hell they were. She found the edge of a door and started moving forward toward the stairwell that sat just shy of a now useless bank of elevators.

As long as Hobbs remained downstairs, she could find him. It was when the arsehole started moving or let Hattie take him somewhere that was going to be a problem. Elizabeth slipped the fire exit door open and walked blindly toward the stairs, feeling for the railing. Once she found it, she eased her way down step by step, heart pounding in her ears, hugging it tight in case her foot slipped.

The entire stairwell was pitch black save for the dim red glow of an emergency exit sign downstairs. There was nothing to indicate how far she'd gotten, or how far she had left, except for when she reached a turn and changed directions.

Surely the ground floor had to be close by now.

Surely Hobbs had to be close.

Without him, this entire plan fell apart. God knew she couldn't rescue his kid on her own. Luke was the only...

"Upstairs and chuck a right. You're sure, Ramsey? ...Jesus, alright, I'm only asking."

Elizabeth froze, pressing herself against the railing. If she could hear Deckard, she was close to the first floor. Maybe too close. Somewhere, a door creaked before swinging open, providing just enough illumination for her to see a figure in the doorway. A torch clicked on, revealing just two steps below her, and Deckard's face lit up from beneath.

Shit.

She jumped the steps, landing on the floor, and ran. Shoulder angled forward, head down, Elizabeth drove Deckard out of the way, pivoting on her feet and throwing herself out of arm's reach before he could grab her.

"Beth!"

Hobbs. Where the fuck was Hobbs? Better question, where the hell were the Russian assholes who were supposed to be...

"She's alone. Ground floor. I don't know where. You get her, Owen, I'll grab the other bastard."

Squinting, Beth could just make out faint light from something moving in the distance. Rectangular and phone-shaped, she hesitated before the light lifted to reveal Hobbs' face...and Hattie's. God, she'd grown up. A weak smile tugged at her lips before Elizabeth ducked down and started toward the Fed.

She only needed to tap him on the shoulder. Give him some signal that it was her, that they could get out of there and get back on Air Cipher. Get back to business and find his daughter.

Someone tapped her instead, then an arm wrapped around her throat. Elizabeth turned, trying to jam her head into the remaining space before it was cut off, but Owen clamped down like a vice. She gasped, throat aching as the blood supply to her head was reduced to nothing. Kicking out desperately, Elizabeth struggled to stay upright as her legs started to give out.

A few more seconds of this and she'd be unconscious...and that wasn't on the schedule for today.

Elizabeth reached for his thigh instead and found Owen's sidearm. She undid the strap, fumbling to draw the pistol and find its safety. No toggle, no nothing, no—

This one has the safety built into the trigger. Don't point it at anything you don't want to shoot.

Maybe it was a Glock. Maybe it wasn't. There was only one way to find out. She angled the barrel away from the both of them and squeezed the trigger. The bullet ripped through the holster, leaving her ears ringing from the shot and causing Owen to loosen his chokehold. Elizabeth drove her elbow into his balls, breaking free, and rushed toward Hobbs.

"Luke! Let's—"

Pain seared through her entire body as Hattie grabbed her wrist, stepping in and slamming her into the ground. She screamed out, pain searing through her ribs and spine, only to be flipped onto her stomach and have her arm bent backwards. Cuffs closed around her wrist, then her other wrist was pulled up and secured. "I bagged her, Decks. You got Jakob?"

"Hobbs, don't be stupid," Elizabeth said, face pressed into the carpet. "We need to go. Sam—"

"Is with my sister in South Dakota."

"What the hell are you talking about? Cipher took her!"

"Stop lying, Elizabeth! You and Cipher were stringing me along the entire goddamn time. Jesus, I—Woman, you'll be lucky if you see two minutes of sunlight after this. You think Gitmo was Hell? Wait until you're living in your new home."

"Hobbs, you know this is bullshit. Cipher has Sam. You've been talking to her for days. You heard her in the cargo hold!"

"I don't know what I heard."

"You're an idiot. You're going to leave her in a—I thought my father was a piece of shit. God, you really take the cake. Sam's out there and you're back to running off with my sister, but I guess you can always make a new daughter, can't you? Well, at least Hattie likes kids. She'll be a great mother to number two while your first rots in a fucking cage!"

"How many times do I have to tell you to shut your goddamn mouth, woman?"

She's probably laughing her ass off waiting for you two to tear each other apart...

Jakob's words echoed in her mind like a death knell as Elizabeth closed her eyes, pressing her forehead into the carpet. What were the odds that he was right? That all this had been for nothing? She'd sat there and exposed herself, let Hobbs get under her skin and allowed him to see a side of her that few ever did. It was only a few days. Nothing that mattered in the grand scheme of things, but it'd been something, hadn't it? God knew no one had ever made her laugh like that in years.

Except him.

...because right now, Cipher's ten steps ahead.

Chapter Text

It didn't matter what she said, did it?

Hobbs had already made up his mind.

Chosen to trust them.

Not her.

She was supposed to be his partner.

But apparently the last few days counted for nothing now that Deckard was in his ear yet again.

"Of course," Luke muttered, crossing his arms as he stared through the metal bars dividing the two of them. "Now you stop talking."

She hadn't spoken a word in almost twelve hours. Not since they'd gotten back to wherever the hell this place was. Hattie had locked her up and left her there without so much as a goodbye. An apt irony given Elizabeth practically did the same seventeen years ago, even if she had left a note.

"Why the hell did you do it, huh? You wanted to get back at me? You get a kick out of torturing men before you try to screw them?"

There was no getting out of this without external help. Even she could see that. Whether that help ever came, well, that was the real question, wasn't it? If not, she'd be locked up for the rest of her life. Left in some godforsaken hole in the ground Elizabeth would never escape.

"Answer the question!"

First he wanted her to shut up, now he wanted to talk. Make up your damn mind, Fed. Going around and around in circles with him had gotten tiring on the plane. Here it would be downright tedious. Elizabeth glanced up from the floor, meeting Luke's gaze for all of two seconds before she went back to staring at the ground.

"Elizabeth."

"Let's go to South Dakota. If Sam's there, she's safe. If not, we have a problem."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Then go with Hattie. Verify all this isn't just Cipher manipulating you."

"It could still be you pulling the strings."

But it wasn't. It never had been. What part of 'she didn't hurt kids' was Hobbs failing to understand? Elizabeth pushed herself up and got to her feet, closing the space between them. "It's not. You know that."

"I don't..." Luke rested his head against the bars, letting out a groan. "I've already talked to Sam. It's her."

"You think Cipher couldn't fake that? It's Cipher. She's always ten steps ahead and now we're letting her win."

"There is no we. You were right about that."

"Cipher can't alter the physical. Go to South Dakota. If it's Sam then fine, you have your kid. If not, do your job and find her."

"Why the hell are you doing this, Beth?"

"Hell is being abandoned and forgotten, left to die in a prison cell. I'm not going to sit back while she goes through that too."

Five minutes. Five minutes of letting Shaw run her mouth and she was already pulling on his heartstrings and trying to play him like a fiddle. Elizabeth knew exactly what to say to get under his skin, didn't she? Every word that came out of her mouth was rehearsed, perfect, all of it constructed for the most emotional impact.

That was how Deckard explained it.

There was nothing rehearsed about this, however. The only thing he saw in her eyes was desperation and absolute physical exhaustion. Elizabeth was at her limits and struggling to keep her head above water.

"Right now, this is an inconvenience. A delay. Jakob can cover for us, but the clock's ticking down. You heard what he said—Cipher has a ground crew and I doubt they're the merciful type."

"Beth."

"Chato's gone. You can't send your team to South Dakota and I doubt you have many—"

"I've still got one option."

He pulled out his phone—his new Cipher-proof phone, according to Hattie when she gave it to him—and started dialing. The other end picked up in a heartbeat.

"Hobbs."

"Jonah?"

"Luke, do you know what time it is here?"

"Nine thirty?"

"Don't give me cheek, boy. What is it? You ringing to say hello to your brothers or is there something going on?"

"Someone took Sam. I need you and Mateo to go to Lisa's. I...I can't go there myself."

"What do you mean—"

"I'm being blackmailed. I need my brothers, Jonah. No questions asked. How soon can you get here?"

"There's a plane in the morning."

"That's not good enough. Can you take a boat to Pago Pago? Upolu?" Maybe Elizabeth had a point. He was an idiot if he thought Jonah spending sixteen hours on a boat going from Apia to Pago Pago would do them any good. "Wait. Find out when the next cargo plane comes out of Australia tonight. Have the pilot divert."

"You think it's that easy?"

Luke didn't say anything. He just looked through the bars. Elizabeth shrugged and said, "It's Owen's money anyway. How's a couple million sound?"

"I'll text you the bank details, Jonah. Pay whatever it takes."

And then he walked away, leaving her standing there, staring at his back.

"Fuck you too," Elizabeth muttered, her brief footsteps echoing behind him. "Enjoy your life, Fed, or whatever's left of it after Cipher's finished with you and the rest of them."

"...I thought Owen was vile but you take it to a whole other level, don't you?" Hattie's voice came from the doorway to her right, adjacent to the holding cell. The door eased open and she stepped out, helping herself to the chair Owen had left behind several hours ago. "How much is Cipher paying you? It must be quite a lot to get you to betray us."

Stretching out on the bed, Elizabeth rolled onto her right side and faced the wall. There was no getting out of this now, was there? No matter what she said, Deckard had Hobbs' respect, Hattie his trust, and her? She had a memory of a kiss. Making out on that couch in the hotel, kissing in the bathroom with him holding her against the wall, trying to cling to her sanity because every time Hobbs touched her, she ached to give him more than she already had.

Yearned to take far more than someone like her deserved to.

"Cipher isn't paying me anything."

Hattie scoffed. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Is that a rhetorical question? God, you all think you're smart and you're letting Cipher play you like fools. Sooner or later, she's going to come crashing down on your heads and it'll be Hobbs' daughter who pays the price."

"Now you're threatening her?"

"You want a threat, Hats?" If they were going to do this, they'd do it properly. Face to face, no hiding, no concealing things from each other. Elizabeth flipped over and sat up, wincing as she tried to get comfortable again. "Open the door and see what happens."

"What did the Russians do that turned you into this? You used to be..."

"An angry, scared child hiding behind a mask. Now I'm a scared, angry woman without one. So if you want me to sit here and pander to you, tell you how happy I am that we're back together and we can braid each other's hair and be sisters again, I'm going to throw up in my mouth."

That familiar smile tugged at Hattie's lips as she rolled her eyes and looked away. Neither of them had ever been the corny type. Sure, they were sisters, but the two of them never had that kind of cliche bond. "Speak for yourself."

"Hattie, you know this isn't right. Whatever you and Ramsey have found is fake. Just grab Hobbs and let us go. Twelve hours is enough. Any longer and Cipher's going to start asking where we really are."

"Even if I wanted to, Deckard has the key."

"If Cipher does have his daughter, it'll break Hobbs when he finds out he's wrong. You know that as well as I do. Come on. What's your gut tell you about all this? You always listen to them but for once, listen to yourself. Instinct's never led you astray before."

"Elizabeth."

Maybe she was talking to Hattie, maybe she was really talking to the man on the other side of the doorway. She could just see his unmistakable shadow cast against the glass. The sheer size of Hobbs was ridiculous, and if he was any indication of Hobbs-ian genetics then God only knew what his brothers looked like.

"We don't have time for this bullshit. Every minute we waste sitting here is a minute less we have to find Sam. It's not me being manipulative, it's reality. Cipher's going to run out of patience sooner or later, and when she does, it isn't going to be pretty. She'd lose her leverage if she kills Sam but I doubt Cipher's above hurting her."

Finally, the door opened and Hobbs made himself known. "...Hattie, can you give us a minute?"

"Luke, you don't need to listen to this. She's just mouthing off because she's—"

"Please."

"Fine." Hattie stood and left, closing the door behind her. "One minute."

"What did I tell you about your mouth, woman?" Luke said. "You think running it will get me on your side? That if you hit me where it hurts enough times, I'll just turn around and pretend none of this happened? Unlock that door and let you go? The only place you're going is a black site for the rest of your life while Cipher ends up in the ground."

"Really? Five seconds with them and that stick's back up your arse already? You've got to be kidding me! I guess you must have a thing for Deckard then because if you're not—"

"Elizabeth." He approached the cell, gesturing at her to come here. Warily, Shaw stood and moved toward him but still kept her distance until he reached through and caught her by the belt, all but dragging her close. "You talk about me like that again," Luke said, keeping his voice as low as humanly possible, "and I'm going to have to pick a wall."

The tension in her body dissolved, leaving only that death stare and pout. "I'm going to kill you."

"I said no mind games unless I'm in on them. I didn't say anything about you needing to be."

"Luke."

"My brothers are on their way. We've got the mob on our side, I think, and now we've got a phone Cipher can't trace. There wasn't any other way to get here and ditch Jakob without throwing you under the bus. I'm sorry."

"Next time, at least give me a signal."

"How about you trust me instead? If we're a team, we need to act like one."

"There's a slight issue with that."

"What?"

"What part of selfish bitch says I know the first thing about being on a team?"

As much as he wanted to laugh, all things considered, she had a good point there. "We can work on that."

"There's also still the issue of—"

"This?" Luke held up the key. "My dad was a professional thief. Pickpocketing was the first thing I learned."

He unlocked the door, lifting it as he moved it and applying just the right amount of pressure to stop the hinges from squeaking. Elizabeth stepped out, looking him up and down as if seeing him in a whole new light, then pulled off her shoes and left them on the floor. "We go right and follow the corridor down. Swing a left and—"

"Hobbs, you still want that coffee?"

Deckard walked in, eyes darting between the two of them. Luke reacted in an instant, grabbing Deckard and driving him into the wall face-first before Luke got him in a chokehold and squeezed. Deckard struggled, hitting and kicking, but it was over in seconds. And that was all the time they'd have to get out once he let go of Shaw, because as soon as he released the chokehold, all that blood would start flowing back to Deckard's brain.

"Go," Luke said, nodding at the door. "Stay low. I'll catch up. You know the way out?"

Elizabeth nodded and went for the door, ducking outside and going right. Luke glanced down at Deckard, unconscious in his arms, and sighed. The bastard could yell at him for this another time. Right now, all that mattered was finding Sam and bringing her home safe. The risk that Cipher didn't have his daughter, that it was all some deepfake bullshit, wasn't worth taking when weighed up against the risk that Cipher did have her locked away somewhere.

Luke dropped Deckard, letting him slump against the wall, and ran.

He didn't think, didn't look, just ran right down the corridor, turned left, and took the stairs up toward the first floor. The door opened as he reached the top, revealing a dark street and pitch black sky. Elizabeth stood waiting, one hand pressed to her side and teeth grit.

A grey Nissan Deckard had driven from the hotel was still parked outside the building—he'd stolen those keys too, naturally—and Luke got in just as Elizabeth reached the passenger door. She climbed in, groaning, then pulled the door shut as Luke floored it.

"You good?"

"No. You know how much it hurts getting thrown into the ground?"

"Yeah, actually, I do. Your sister tried to choke me out once. Didn't quite work."

"You know what? You owe me breakfast, lunch and dinner tomorrow." Elizabeth winced, pressing her head back into the seat. "Scratch that. Make it every day for the next week because you owe me for this too."

"I owe you? Woman, I just knocked your brother out and saved your ass."

"From a situation you put me in. You know what? Take your own advice. Shut up. Drive. We need to get out of the city. Get back on the plane and, God, I need to take some morphine."

"Beth."

"Nothing's broken. I checked." It just felt like her upper body was temporarily on fire and her shoulders had all but been ripped out of their sockets. "I guess you really did go easy on me that night, huh?"

Luke glanced at her, eyes closed and fingers dug into the seat, forcing herself to keep breathing through the pain. If a couple meals was all he owed her for this, Luke would more than happily put on a top hat and tails, and maybe some bells. "The job was to catch you, not kill you. You're barely above a bantamweight anyway. I could bench you in my sleep."

Well, that explained a lot. Least of all how he could lift her so easily. "So...we're a team now."

"Elizabeth, we've been a team the whole time. You just had your head buried up your ass so you wouldn't have to acknowledge it."

She opened her eyes and looked at him, eyebrows lifting and arms crossing over her chest. "Excuse me?"

"The dictionary definition of a team is a group of two or more people working together. I count two people in this car, and surprise surprise, we're working together. That's a team."

"You're going to rub this in my face for a while, aren't you?"

A while? "Only the rest of your life."

"God willing, the rest of my life will be spent far from the likes of idiots and arseholes. Once I steal Cipher's money, I'm going back to Cuba where winter doesn't exist."

"I told you what would happen if you called me an idiot again."

"I didn't call you one. I indirectly implied you were one. There's a difference."

"Semantics."

Luke pulled out his Cipher-given phone as they reached the highway and dialed Jakob, tossing the phone in Elizabeth's lap. She'd told him to shut up and drive which was exactly what he planned on doing, especially now the lighting was more spread out and their surroundings were darker. He turned off the car's lights as they drove, plunging them into complete darkness, and prayed the Shaws weren't somewhere behind them.

The last thing they needed was a fight when Elizabeth was at breaking point. There was no question in his mind that she'd sprinted down the hallway, let alone taken those stairs as fast as she could. It was the only way she could've gotten ahead of him like that.

"Yeah?" Jakob's voice came from the loudspeaker as Elizabeth turned it on. "What do you want?"

No names. No assumption that they were the ones calling. Jakob was smart to be wary given everything that'd happened today. "Send us the coordinates for the rendezvous point, pretty boy. We need a pickup."

"We?"

"I told you I wasn't leaving without Hobbs. Deckard's gunning for the both of us now. He's out for blood. Where the hell are you?"

"It's been twelve hours, princess. We're at least half that away from you. Find somewhere to lay low and we'll be there in the morning. I'll send the coordinates then."

Elizabeth hung up without another word, glancing at Luke as he turned on the overhead light. "I don't suppose you have friends here."

"No, but I've got cash in my boot. We can find a shitty motel and get some sleep."

"Aww. It'll be just like old times. Any suggestions?"

"The first one we see."

It turned out to be three star and slightly better than shitty. Much to Luke's relief, there were no online reviews mentioning bedbugs. He thrust the motel room door open, allowing Elizabeth to walk in first, then scanned the parking lot and highway to make sure they hadn't been followed. If there was even the slightest indication of Deckard, Owen or even Little Nobody showing up, they were going to be out of there faster than his daughter's soccer team could scream for ice cream.

They'd left the Nissan on the other side of the motel, half mounted on the sidewalk, and opened two tire valves. Maybe it'd throw the Shaws off enough that Deckard wouldn't assume they were staying at that exact motel, but only time would tell.

"You can take the shower," Elizabeth said, sticking her head into the bathroom. "I'm calling the tub."

"You can't call the—"

Why did he even bother? Luke shut the front door just as Elizabeth dropped her skirt and walked into the bathroom, helping herself to the tub. He started peeling off his suit, tugging off his boots and leaving them on the floor before he was down to his briefs. He threw the shower curtain across, showered, then pulled his briefs back on and climbed into the tub.

The look Elizabeth gave him was priceless as his feet came to rest on either side of her.

"Shower first, then tub," Luke groaned, leaning back against the wall. "You know the rules."

"Ch—Cr—" It was like watching a malfunction happen in real time. Elizabeth didn't seem to consciously know exactly which language she was trying to speak as she stood, still wearing her shirt and underwear, and walked into the shower. "You know the thing? The—the kran? I'm going to rip it out of the wall and beat you with it while you sleep."

"Good luck with that."

Luke closed his eyes and got comfortable, up until the moment there was a foot touching his leg. He opened one eye, checked Elizabeth hadn't somehow managed to rip the entire tap out of the wall like she'd threatened to, then pulled his legs back to give her some room. She lowered herself down into the tub, the water almost hotter than even Luke could tolerate, and stretched herself out, feet coming to rest on the tub beside his shoulder.

Neither of them spoke after that. Elizabeth closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall, breathing somewhat more evenly than she had been. Luke eventually shut his again and yawned, putting his feet next to her as best he could. The tub was bigger than he'd expected, but not quite that big. Half his upper body was sticking out of the water, and if he slid down any further, his feet would be in Elizabeth's face.

After what seemed like forever, Luke eased himself out and left her there, toweling off and climbing into the queen size bed. Elizabeth wasn't wrong about it being just like old times, but unlike back then, there wasn't the issue of...complications.

The twisted sense of pride he felt when he heard that shot ring out and saw Elizabeth break free of Owen's chokehold, fighting to stay alive, suppressing her every instinct just to get to Luke and get them out of there.

The red hot anger that'd rose up inside him when he watched her walk into that holding cell and Deckard mentioned Mr. Nobody's men would be there later to take Elizabeth to the black site.

Over his dead body.

"Woman, you coming to—"

Bathrobe wrapped around her, Elizabeth walked out of the bathroom before he could finish his sentence. She climbed onto the bed, climbed over him, and let her head hit the pillows. Luke rolled onto his side, facing her, waiting for Elizabeth to glance at him or say something, anything, that might indicate she was paying him even a shred of attention.

"...Just because I said we're a team now doesn't mean you get to be smug about it."

Luke raised one eyebrow. "You think I'm being smug?"

"I think you know what I think."

"I think you think I think I...you...Where were we?"

"Going to sleep." Elizabeth pushed herself up on her elbows, getting her upper body slightly higher on the pillows, and closed her eyes. "Good night."

"Beth."

She sighed but didn't move to look at him. "Stay on your side of the bed and we won't have an issue because if you smother me with your fucking tits, I am getting that bath tap."

"I'm trying to be serious."

"Can you be serious in the morning?"

"No."

"Hobbs."

"Look at me."

Elizabeth did. Propped up on his elbow, Luke leaned over her, muscles straining against his skin. Up close and personal like this, the enormity of him really did sink in. It was one thing to be staring into his chest during an argument when the size of the dog didn't quite matter as much and another thing entirely for them to be face to face, laying in bed and so close he could've flattened her like a pancake if only he rolled the wrong way. "What?"

"I'm with you."

Chapter Text

"You know—" Jakob kicked hard, almost sending Luke staggering back into the bench "—you two never told me how she you got out."

Call it boredom or scratching an itch but he needed this. A good training partner could keep Luke on his toes and Jakob sure seemed to be doing that. They'd been going at it for almost an entire hour now, not quite aiming to injure each other yet certainly making sure every blow was felt.

"You've seen the bruises on her neck." Luke steadied himself before punching, catching Jakob off guard with an uppercut he narrowly dodged. "She did what she had to."

Much to his surprise, what'd happened didn't seem to faze Elizabeth. Instead of hiding away, flinching at the slightest touch or worse, Shaw went right back to practicing. Still, she showed only the smallest signs of improvement in the aiming department.

Not that it would matter soon. All Luke could do now was pray and hope that in a few days time it would be enough. Just enough for them to get his daughter back safe and sound.

Another kick.

He blocked it in time, right before Jakob pivoted and unleashed a flurry of jabs. Sparring with him was like sparring with the Energizer bunny himself—Jakob possessed unrelenting force, fast reflexes, and the kind of skill only a trained soldier had. If they ever came to blows one day—a real no holds barred fight—there was no doubt in Luke's mind now he would find himself in trouble.

"And then they just let you two walk on out of there."

"No." Luke feinted left and swung right, striking the asshole in the stomach. Jakob kicked hard in response, forcing Hobbs back and out of range once more. "I had to put Deckard through a wall first."

It was technically the truth, and something that Elizabeth would have no issue corroborating if asked. They hadn't rehearsed what to tell Cipher or anyone else, nor did they need to. Lies would only complicate matters. Keeping it simple was the smartest move either he or Shaw could make.

"Right." Jakob shook his head in disbelief then slipped his gloves off, tossing them onto the bench. The look on his face said he was skeptical. Good thing no one but the Shaws could poke any holes in the story, and they wouldn't be showing up to answer questions anytime soon. "On the record, if you walk out on us like that again in the middle of a job, I'll kill you."

...Okay. Apparently there was a 'them' as well. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to Luke, but truthfully, it did. He hadn't thought of Elizabeth and Jakob as being any kind of team. That was, well, them. Like Shaw said, she was with Luke. She was his partner.

"It won't happen again." There wouldn't be time anyway. Soon enough, he and Elizabeth would be gone. "You done?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Luke threw his gloves in the dirty gear basket and left the armory. Without even knocking, he pushed Elizabeth's door open and poked his head in. "Hey, you up for—"

"Lunch?"

She crooked her finger at him in a come hither motion. There were four containers on the bed, forks, a bottle of water and two icy cold beers fresh from the freezer. Well, okay then. Apparently Luke was the one on a date today. He locked the door behind himself and took a seat, stretching his legs out and getting as comfortable as he could.

"So, honey," Elizabeth said, popping a beer open and handing it to him, "how was your day at work?"

Luke leaned back, pressing the cool, condensation-covered glass to his forehead. "Ass kicking, head knocking, stamping files. The usual."

"Stamping."

"Filing paperwork is serious business." He hadn't even finished talking when that small amused smile formed on her face. Elizabeth took a sip of her water and looked away, like she was trying to suppress it. Wrangle her emotions and get them under control before, God forbid, she expressed a shred of happiness or sentiment. "How was your day, beautiful?"

The smile slipped away in an instant. Elizabeth didn't respond as she downed half the bottle then tucked it into her lap and started opening their lunch. She was tense from head to toe, visibly uneasy as Shaw said, "Got the beef for you, and waffles with chocolate sauce for dessert."

"Thanks."

"Sure." Elizabeth winced as the plane shuddered, then set her water aside and stood up. "I'll be back in a minute. Eat without me if you want."

"Beth."

"I need an ice pack."

"Sit. I'll get it."

"It's fine, I can—" Her jaw clenched like she was seconds from biting his head off. Shaw muttered under her breath then opened her top drawer. She cracked open a pill bottle, shook out four in her hand and dry swallowed them. Elizabeth hesitated then downed another two, following them up with the rest of her water. "You and Jakob have a job tonight, right?"

"Yeah." Some office building. Luke wasn't exactly interested in the specifics outside of 'go here, steal this, don't get killed'. It was a heist like any other, save for the apparent presence of slightly more competent guards. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Thought I might get you all to myself."

"Elizabeth."

Without missing a beat, Shaw grabbed her phone from the corner desk and typed something out. We're leaving tonight, the screen read. No more waiting. "I told you I don't like to share."

What the fuck? Where the hell had this come from? They still had days, yet Elizabeth wanted to run now? They didn't have Sam's location or any locations, for that matter. They didn't have a chance in Hell of finding his daughter, let alone reaching Sam before Cipher did. All the hacker had to do was make one phone call and she was dead.

No, Luke replied.

"I have a daughter. You'll always be sharing."

Then I'm leaving without you.

Why?

"That's different and you know it," she said.

Because Cipher won't be expecting what comes next.

Luke looked up in disbelief. Surely Elizabeth wasn't saying what he thought she was saying. And what's that?

"Is this because Hattie's in the picture?"

Chaos.

"No. She tried to kill me. Owen too. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not a Shaw anymore."

"Jesus." Luke raised his voice just enough to sound annoyed. "You're jealous."

"Jealousy has nothing to do with it."

Explain it to me.

"Bullshit."

Blow a hole in the plane. Follow through on your threat and find some way to cripple Cipher. Give ourselves a head start. You have that phone now so why not use it? Contact  Toretto  and set up an ambush.

"I'm not jealous."

"Then what?"

"...I can't trust you."

There were three different conversations happening right now, wasn't there? The false one Cipher was hearing, the one they were having if both of them read between the lines, and the conversation being typed out on the phone.

"Beth."

She'd said the quiet part aloud. Voiced the fact constantly kicking around in their heads. The thing that neither of them wanted to admit, but it was true. Despite the laughter, the smiles, the looks Elizabeth gave him and the way Luke indulged himself, there was still an undeniable schism between them. One he wasn't sure would ever cease to exist.

"I want to, but I can't." Her voice cracked right on cue as Elizabeth sat. "All this? It's never going to work anyway, or even last. You just can't be the person I need you to be."

"And who's that?"

"The Hobbs I met. The old Hobbs. Not whoever the hell they turned you into when Nobody cut your balls off."

"Woman, I'm still the same sumbitch you knew four years ago."

Then why the hell is  Toretto  free? Why didn't you put that asshole behind bars? Why am I the only one who lost a year of her life? How could you just fucking forget you locked me up?

That was what she wanted to say, wasn't it? The questions lingered on her lips, but she didn't voice them. Luke could see it in her eyes. This false conversation had just been driven head first into reality, all while Shaw scrambled to pretend like the next words that came out of her mouth weren't the truth.

"You sure about that?"

"Alright. Conversation's over." All her anger and pain was simmering below the goddamn surface. It'd been building for four years and finally the target of it sat right there in front of her. Of course it was coming out now. "Shut up and eat, Beth."

The tension migrated to her jaw and spine as Beth ripped open her dessert and took a bite out of one of the waffles. She didn't speak another syllable or even look at Luke as he dug into the first of two thick slices of brisket.

It was perfect. Melt in the mouth, smoked and slow cooked on the barbeque for hours. Say what you wanted about Cipher herself but she clearly understood the importance of keeping her staff fed.

"...Don't steal my lunch."

Elizabeth stood, closing her dessert, and walked out. Well, shit. Luke leaned back against the wardrobe and focused on eating. There was no sense in going after her. If she had something to say, Shaw wouldn't hesitate to say it to his face no matter where he was so Luke might as well enjoy his food.

Her quiet footsteps became silent after the familiar hiss of the armory door. That was all Luke needed to hear as he moved her lunch to the bedside drawer. He helped himself to a more comfortable position and stretched out, ignoring the visible phone near his elbow.

Luke didn't need to ask whether or not anyone had returned her calls. No matter how many times Elizabeth dialed, no one picked up. Hattie hadn't answered a week ago and she sure wouldn't now. Apparently it hadn't occurred to Beth that there was every likelihood her siblings had left their phones behind in the UK, or if it had, she didn't care.

Whatever hope had been driving Elizabeth, however, was beginning to fade. He heard it in her voice when she asked Hattie to pick up. The desperation more than audible as she called their mom, telling Magdalene she didn't know what to do. Asking for her help because Beth was in over her head.

No one ever called back.

Not even him.

Dad. Pap. Michael. Whatever she named him in her voicemails, the result was the same—a whole lot of silence.

"You didn't eat my beef, did you?"

How much time passed between Elizabeth leaving and returning, Luke genuinely couldn't say. He'd finished both beers, his lunch and dessert, all by the time she walked back into the room. The anger, the tension in her body was gone, yet the look in those dark eyes told a different story. Beth was more determined than ever, and he could either stay the fuck out of her way or get steamrolled.

"No."

"Good."

"Beth."

"You're in my spot."

Luke tucked one arm under his head. "Is that so?"

"Mm." She fetched her lunch and helped herself to a seat...atop him. Elizabeth straddled his thighs, kneeling there like she was daring him to say or do something. "But I like the view from here."

"Me too."

Shaw pursed her lips, squeezing her toned thighs together just enough for him to feel a slight pressure. Shit. If she wanted to kiss him, get herself off while he burst a seam, she only had to say the word. As wrong as it was, they were standing at the edge of a cliff, all but about to push each other over it.

"Luke."

"If we put this shit to bed, you aren't going to like what you hear. So if you want to hash it out, eat your lunch and then we'll talk."

"...Okay."

Try as she might, Elizabeth couldn't hide a thing from him.

And try as he might, Luke couldn't deny there was something oddly cathartic about the absolute lack of anything passive aggressive when it came this partnership of theirs. As fucked up as all of it was, at least they were communicating like a team. When Shaw had something to say, she damn well said it amidst the threats and ripping of heads from shoulders.

She ate her lunch in silence, finishing it and tossing the containers in the trash before Elizabeth moved to sit at the end of the bed.

"No," Luke said, rolling onto his side and patting the mattress. "Come here."

"You want to spoon while we have a heart to heart?"

"I didn't say that, and you know this obsession with riding my dick is becoming a concern."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and moved to lay down flat next to him, tucking one pillow under her ribs. She winced and adjusted it, finally getting comfortable after a moment. "If you want to talk, let's talk. Get the heavy shit out of the way first."

"I didn't forget you were in Gitmo, I left you there as bait. Thought Owen might come to get you out. Didn't realize he was the kind of asshole to see his own sister as disposable."

The look Elizabeth gave him said she wasn't expecting that, but maybe it was what she needed to hear. Confirmation that she simply hadn't ceased to exist in just about everyone's eyes for eighteen whole months. "...Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Because I can't trust you either," Luke said, "so it seems neither of us can really be the person the other needs until things change."

"And how exactly do we make that happen?"

Well, that right there was the question, wasn't it? The one Luke couldn't answer no matter how many times he thought about it. How did two people who couldn't be more at odds come to trust each other when history gave them every reason not to?

"I don't know."

Sure, there was sex, but it was no way to build a foundation for trust. Not when the act itself would mean nothing to either of them. For Elizabeth, it'd be no more than a job. For him, a hookup Luke needed but would rather forget given time.

"Well, at least we're on the same page," she said. "I suppose that's something."

"Yeah." Luke didn't think twice about it as he rested his hand on Elizabeth's stomach. She tensed up instantly, but instead of pulling away, Shaw met his gaze and took a breath like she wanted to relax. His right thumb swept idly back and forth over her shirt, the thin material the only thing separating them. "Same page, same bed...again."

"Mm." Slowly, she covered his hand with her own, interlacing her fingers between Luke's. "There's one slight problem, you know."

"What?"

"It's going to take some time before I'm used to this," she said. "All of...this."

Elizabeth glanced down, not quite looking at their hands. It was like she didn't want to admit what her body knew—Shaw was already halfway to comfortable and then some. The two of them had been up close and personal day in and day out. Living in close quarters for well over a month. It made sense that on some level, they were more familiar with each other than either of them thought.

"This?" Luke moved his hand up toward her neck. Her gaze followed it, eyes a little wider than before. Elizabeth's chest rose and fell slightly faster too. Instead of directly touching her throat, Luke let his fingers brush against her chin instead. "Which this are we talking about?"

Her breath became a little louder, more uneven and shaky. Shaw tried to swallow but it was like she couldn't quite make her body work. The events of two days ago had rattled her, not that Elizabeth was making it known to anyone. No, it had all been bottled up and shoved way down so she wouldn't have to acknowledge it.

Yeah, they couldn't leave tonight. No matter what she said, Elizabeth needed time to get her head back in the game. Figure out some way past this. They didn't have the kind of time needed to do it the easy way, so Shaw was going to have to pull it together somehow.

Unless he could give them time.

Give them all time.

Luke dropped his hand and sat up, climbing over Elizabeth to get off the bed. She looked at him like she wanted to ask where he was going, but didn't. He raised his hand, signaling five minutes, and walked out of the room.

They could do this the easy way or the hard way, but it would be done despite whichever option he chose.

So why prolong this nightmare?

Maybe one day he'd regret this but it wouldn't be today. Hell, the only thing Luke would really regret was not doing this sooner. Taking the high road and clinging to his morals—it was the wrong choice in hindsight, but he'd been scared.

Scared of losing the only thing left that mattered to him.

"Agent Hobbs." The door to Cipher's office slid open without him saying a word. He walked inside and helped himself to a seat, ignoring the rear wall illuminated by a projector. "What can I do for you?"

"I want my daughter. Today. I want her on this plane, with me, before there's a hole in it. Preferably before Toretto turns up."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't know what Elizabeth's up to, do you? Well, it ain't good for either of us. You give me Sam and I'll keep Shaw on a leash."

"And why would I give you my leverage instead of dealing with the issue?"

"Sam's still your leverage no matter where she is, but the woman in that room ready to burn your house down is mine. Shaw almost shot her own brother to get free of him. Pain ain't going to stop her anymore."

"Is that all?"

"She stole a phone. One call and Toretto is knocking on your front door."

Cipher sat up, looking at him as if she were seriously considering it, then she glanced at her laptop screen. "You step out of line—"

"Actions, meet consequences. I get it. Do you?"

She typed something rapidly before swinging around in her office chair to face him.

"In five minutes, you'll have your daughter." The surprise on his face must have shown because she added, "You think I don't know what Elizabeth's been up to, Hobbs? She can't sneeze on here without me being aware of it. Really, I practically made her what she is. But thank you for your...concern."

"Sam's here?"

"Like I said, I know Elizabeth better than she knows herself. Taking my laptop and using the Russian mob as manpower? It's easy, predictable. I knew what she was planning the second you three went to that hotel. Sergey himself confirmed it for me before he died."

"I don't care about that. My daughter—"

"Four minutes, then go to the armory. Sam will be waiting for you. From now on, Agent Hobbs, you do exactly as I ask and nothing short of it. When this is over, the two of you will be free to go like I said."

It should have clicked in his mind that Cipher said two, not three, but the only thing he could think about was Sam. Had she been on the plane the entire time? Or did she get snuck onboard when they refueled without anyone noticing?

Luke rubbed the back of his neck, sitting in Cipher's office for the longest four minutes of his life. Every second felt like eternity until the clock ran out and the door to the office opened.

The armory...

She wasn't messing with him, was she? If Luke walked in there and found nothing, he'd tear the fucking plane apart with his bare hands.

"Sam?" Luke called out as he neared the armory. The door slid open, an uneasy silence settling over the corridor, then...

"Dad!"

All seventy pounds hit him. Luke lifted Sam, crushing her against him.

Oh, fuck. This was real. She was—

"Hi, baby."

"I'm sorry," Sam bawled, arms wrapped around his neck. "They said they'd hurt you if I—"

"It's okay. I'm sorry too, baby. This won't ever happen again. I promise it's almost over, and once it is, we're going home."

"I love you, Dad."

"God, I love you too, sweetheart. You want a drink? Or waffles? We got ice cream too. I'm sure—"

Why would I give you my leverage instead of dealing with the issue?

He looked over his shoulder at the room next to his. The closed door that should have been flung open by now, but that wouldn't happen, would it? Shaw wasn't going to come out and pour him a shot, or smile and pat him on the shoulder. No, there wasn't a chance in Hell of that happening now...

Because Elizabeth was gone.

Chapter Text

There were only so many ways one could say 'go fuck yourself' before it became a pointless endeavor. Elizabeth had reached the seventeenth when she gave up, opting to sit on the bed and ignore Hobbs entirely.

Instead of just tossing her away somewhere, isolating her and leaving her there like a thing Cipher would rather forget, the bitch had decided to dangle Luke in front of her like Cipher thought she'd won.

Oh, Cipher had no idea what was coming tonight, did she?

How many hours were there until they landed anyway? It'd been just after one thirty when that knock on the door came. The one she could only assume Hobbs was responsible for. There couldn't be more than five or six until wheels down.

That was when she—they—would finally make their move.

"She's my daughter, Beth."

"And I'm meant to be your partner but what a surprise, you threw me under the bus and got your kid back. Good for you."

God, she really sounded so whiny, didn't she? So pathetic. At least tonight, Elizabeth would finally be able to drop the facade. No more having to sit there and pretend that the two of them cared for each other. No more of him touching her so gently that it made her stomach twist in revulsion. Her skin could stop crawling and she could finally forget the aching need that stirred whenever he put his hands on her body.

"I'm sorry. I can't live through another week of this—"

"How did you know she was on the plane, Luke?"

"What?"

"Your kid. How did you know Sam was onboard?"

"I didn't."

Elizabeth scoffed. "Well, enjoy it while it lasts before Cipher puts the both of you in a cage too. Sooner or later, she'll turn on you as well."

"Like you turned on your family?"

"No. Like you turned on me! It's supposed to be you and me, was supposed to be, but two minutes in her office and you bend over for Cipher? Have some fucking self respect!"

"You want to talk about self respect? Look in the mirror. You humped Jakob and stuck your tongue down his throat then you came crawling to me and started kissing my ass. Have some respect for yourself, Elizabeth. You're supposed to be thirty-five, not an emotionally stunted six year old still dealing with her dead mommy issues."

It was just a performance. She knew that. They both did. But like him, Luke's words were getting under her skin too.

"Fuck off." If he ran his mouth again, she was going to forget this whole thing was a twisted pantomime and start trying to break through the only thing that prevented her from shutting him up. "Go enjoy your life while you still have one, because I guarantee once I'm out of here, yours will be over."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot you don't like hearing the truth."

Elizabeth pressed her knuckles to the glass, taking a breath before she walked toward the bed and laid down. "If you're saying all this was a lie, fine. Just hurry up and leave, will you?"

"Of course it was a lie! You really think I'd ever get involved with someone as unhinged as you? Woman, you aren't the only one who can play the long game. Why do you think I let you sleep with me back at the base? Jesus, the only reason I didn't kill you when I hit you with that car was because I knew sooner or later, you'd bring me Cipher on a silver platter."

"Sod off."

"You know the worst part of all this? It only took me a couple days to wrap you around my finger, then you were ready to do whatever I asked. You even rode my dick like a goddamn whore. No wonder your brother and Cipher see you as disposable. You're a trainwreck in slow motion!"

"Shut up, Hobbs."

She would give him this much—he was a fast learner. Luke had figure out exactly where and how to hit her for the most impact. He knew all the right things to say to make this sound as real as it could be.

To make it hurt.

...Why the hell did it hurt?

It wasn't as if she liked him. Elizabeth certainly wasn't attracted to him either. Not really. He was Hobbs, for crying out loud. The Grade A asshole who deliberately left her in a prison as bait, hit her with his car, and pulled no punches whatsoever. Outside of his physical appearance, absolutely nothing about him held any kind of allure for her.

But she respected him, didn't she?

Regardless of who Hobbs was, something in her felt at least a modicum of respect for Luke, the man who'd taken down her brothers and only suffered some broken bones as a result. He was willing to go to whatever lengths were necessary for his daughter, including working with her of all people.

That kind of dedication wasn't something Elizabeth often saw, let alone heard about, and at the very least Hobbs deserved respect for that, no matter her opinion of the man.

"Elizabeth."

She turned to look at him, remaining on the bed as her ribs protested the sudden movement. "You can't just leave well enough alone, can you? What part of—"

"The only thing that matters to me is my daughter," Luke said. "Not you, not Toretto, not your sister or anyone else on this goddamn plane. You get in my fucking way and I'll bury you."

Five hours, Luke signed, spelling out each word individually. It'd taken him more than a week working with Deckard to get a wrangle on British fingerspelling, but that was all Luke needed. Having seen the Shaws on security camera at the base, talking without speaking, it clicked that he had to either get onboard or get left behind. We leave once it's wheels down. All three of us.

Cipher won't let that happen, Elizabeth replied.

I ain't asking permission. Be ready to run.

There was just one problem with his plan: Cipher's onboard cell was secured by an electronic code, not a swipe card, and it could only be locked or unlocked remotely.

Elizabeth wasn't going to be able to break out of this place without severely injuring or killing herself. Not now that the only thing she had on her was the cheap phone Cipher had been using to allow Luke to talk to his daughter...

...and the potentially explosive lithium-ion battery it contained.

Oh, now there was an idea.

If a fire happened onboard, surely the doors would unlock automatically. Cipher had to have at least ensured that. Anything else was utter psychopathy which would result in everyone being trapped and killed.

Wincing, Elizabeth stood and walked toward the glass door that separated them. She leaned down, running her fingers along the base of the door. There was a gap between it and the carpet. It wasn't large enough to fit her fingers in but maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to slide a battery through.

She could crack the phone casing with the bed frame. A couple good hits and the plastic would break...but would the battery explode instantly once punctured and kill her? Or would she have just a few seconds to get it under the door and away from herself before the fire grew?

Get Sam off first. I'll meet you outside.

No.

This is not a debate.

I have to unlock this door.

Then you'll die.

The look on Luke's face became one of utter horror. Did you shove a bomb up your ass?

Yes, and you have sixty seconds to run after wheels down.

What about you?

I'll catch up.

We can find another way.

No. One minute. Don't be late.

"I wouldn't worry about me, Hobbs. You're the one who'll be needing a grave soon."

At that, Luke walked away, leaving her in silence. He didn't look behind him, even as the glass rattled from the impact of something hitting it. There was nothing to do now but wait. Five hours until wheels down. Five hours until this nightmare ended, albeit prematurely. Why Elizabeth had changed her mind, Luke didn't know, and he wasn't going to waste time asking questions. Maybe she was going stir crazy, maybe she'd figured something out, or maybe it was just so she could run.

Get away from her family, from Cipher and Jakob, and anyone else who wanted to kill her. After how she'd reacted to something as simple as him touching her, Luke couldn't blame her for wanting to find somewhere safe. Somewhere she wouldn't be hurt again. Almost being choked out by Owen had rattled her. Getting hip tossed into the floor by Hattie? Elizabeth's life had probably flashed before her eyes at the potential for a broken rib, punctured lung, and her own subsequent death.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, it's me," Luke said, returning to his room. Sam had been curled up in his bed the entire time, hopefully with the door locked like he'd told her. "You want to come with me and go see if there's some ice cream?"

It was the only thing he could think of right now. Being with Sam, looking her in the eyes, focusing on her instead of the godawful shit that'd just come out of his mouth. The lid had come off the bottle, his anger was slipping out, and Elizabeth was the one standing in the firing line. She probably knew Luke hadn't meant it, not in that way, but it was too easy...

So fucking easy to break her.

He only had to apply the smallest pressure and Elizabeth would shatter.

Like she'd said, she wasn't her brother, or Jakob, or Toretto. Elizabeth couldn't go toe to toe with him unless she wanted her arms ripped out of their sockets. Try as she might, Shaw had no chance of surviving any kind of fight with someone who weighed a hundred pounds heavier and stood several inches taller.

Even she had the self-awareness to see that as proven by their talk the other day.

"Okay."

The door unlocked and Sam came out, allowing him to pick her up. It didn't matter that she was ten years old, Luke just wanted to hold her. Protect her. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he walked toward the galley. Ice cream and a talk. That was all he needed to deal with right now.

Explain the gist of the situation to Sam so she knew what to do and where to go, and then they'd be...

"You got something you want to share with the class, Hobbs?"

"Sam, Jakob. Jakob, my daughter. We're getting ice cream."

"Without the princess?"

"Princess?" Sam looked quizzically at him. "There's a princess, Dad?"

"No, honey. It's just a nickname, and yeah, without her. That an issue, Jakob?"

The asshole looked between the two of them, like he wanted to say something, then Jakob shook his head. "Ice cream sounds good. Mind if I join you?"

Luke hesitated. If he told Jakob what was happening, there was every chance he'd go running off to Cipher. Yet if he didn't, the man would be killed when Elizabeth did...whatever she was going to do. Bastard or not, there was a part of him that didn't want to see Jakob suffer. A small, insignificant part of him, but a part nonetheless. The same part that had allowed Dom to walk away after Brazil and provoked him to allow Owen Shaw to walk free at the NATO base.

"Sure."

"So you want to fill me in?"

"I made a trade. They swapped places."

"Your daughter for..."

"Yeah."

"Can't blame you," Jakob said, walking into the galley and pulling out three ice cream cups from the freezer. "Sam, you want the chocolate chip?"

"Yes, please."

"Speaking of you know who, we need to talk about that," Luke said, gesturing to the cargo hold. "You got a minute?"

"Sure." He followed Luke inside, waited while Hobbs shut the cargo hold door, then joined the giant asshole and the kid as they got into the SUV. Jakob didn't ask questions, he just climbed in and shut the rear door, eyes fixed on Hobbs while he passed out spoons. "So, what are we talking about?"

"You know that job tonight?"

Jakob nodded. "What about it?"

"Forget it. As soon as we're wheels down, get off the plane. We've got sixty seconds before Beth turns this place into a fireball."

The look on Hobbs' face said he was dead serious. Jakob frowned and looked at the other SUV in front of them. Sixty seconds wasn't a lot of time, but if Hobbs wasn't lying—and why would he be?—then there was going to be complete and utter chaos in less than five hours' time. "Shit. If she hits the wrong part of the plane, this entire thing becomes a bomb. The fuel tanks alone..."

"I don't like you, Jakob, but I don't think she could live with herself if you got injured, and I need someone to get Sam off the plane without raising suspicion. That's the only reason I'm telling you instead of letting your ass fry."

"Hobbs, I'm here for one reason and one reason alone. You get that, right?"

Luke nodded. "What happens between you and Toretto isn't my business. The only thing that matters to me right now is getting Sam to safety. You do that for me and, I don't know, I'll give you two free shots at Toretto before I knock you through a wall."

"...Make it three."

"Deal."

"Dad?" Sam looked up at him with fear in her eyes. "What's going on?"

"Baby, when the plane lands, you get in the car with Jakob. I'll meet you afterwards. I promise you'll be safe. Jakob won't hurt you."

"Does he promise?"

Jakob nodded and crossed his heart. "I promise. I'm going to have to be mean to you, though."

"Okay."

"I'll be pointing a gun at you. Dragging you."

"I get it. You're like a spy or something."

"Yeah, or something, I guess."

"Does this mean it's over?"

"Soon, baby. It'll be over as soon as we're safe. No one will ever hurt you again after this, I—"

"All passengers, brace for an immediate emergency landing!"

Oh, fuck. So much for five hours. What the hell had Elizabeth just done?

"Sam, get in the back seat and put your belt on!"

Luke and Jakob climbed out of the SUV at the same time, slamming the door shut and rushing for the front two doors. Jakob got behind the wheel, securing himself while Luke sat in the passenger seat. Sam clambered over the rear seat itself and sat, clipping herself in before she doubled over.

"Dad, what's happening?"

"Baby, it's okay, just brace yourself!" He felt his stomach drop at the same time the plane did. Naturally, Sam cried out in shock, but she didn't scream or panic. Luke could see her in the rearview mirror, body bent in half and hands on the back of her head. "Good girl, Sam, just like that."

The seconds ticked by as the plane rapidly descended. It would take at least two minutes for them to reach the ground, if not three, but there was no helping that. They could only safely lose altitude so fast without killing everyone onboard.

"Guess I'll be coming with you three then."

"Great. Sounds like a road trip. You ever been to see Mt. Rushmore?"

"No, but—"

The plane jolted suddenly. Luke grunted as the rear wheels touched down, then unclipped his seatbelt and jumped out. He ran for the rear chains while Jakob took the front, pulling them and the straps free, releasing the car in thirty seconds flat as the plane continued to move. Then Luke hit the large green button for the ramp and rushed to climb back in the car.

"Where the fuck is she?" Jakob said, starting up the SUV. "If we're going to leave, we need to go now. Ramp's almost down. We don't have time to—"

Luke shoved open the passenger door just as the cargo hold door creaked. Smoke poured in as it was flung open, but he couldn't see a thing past it. He just had to wait...and trust his partner knew what the hell she was doing. He lifted up his shirt to cover his mouth, coughing slightly as more smoke entered the cargo hold, accompanied by the hurried sound of footsteps.

The first indication that someone was at his side was a hand grasping his forearm. Luke instinctively went to pull away then stilled as he felt a body climb in and settle against him. Reaching out, he grabbed the door handle blindly and slammed it shut.

"Go!"

Jakob reversed the SUV with no hesitation, sending them down the ramp and onto flat road. The car spun, facing away from the plane, and Jakob floored it. No hellos, no thank yous, not a sound from the barely recognizable figure curled up in Hobbs' lap. "Last I knew we were headed for Virginia," Jakob said. "Looking around, I'd say we're definitely in the Old Dominion now."

"Virginia?"

"Tonight's job was going to be an execution."

Luke gave their driver a concerned look. "What?"

"Cipher found Nobody. One of us was going to have the task of burying him."

"Jesus."

"Not quite." Elizabeth coughed, her hair and skin covered in smoke and God only knew that else. "I reckon I'm missing some essential parts."

She was alive and breathing. Oh, thank God. Luke let out a sigh of relief and leaned back in his seat, his hands coming to rest on Shaw's waist. "Sam, baby, you good?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. Her eyes were wide, staring at the dark figure in his lap like Sam didn't quite know what to make of it. Neither did he, really. "Hey, sweetheart, it's okay. We'll be safe soon, I promise."

"...Is she okay?" asked Sam.

"Not really," Beth groaned, "but we'll deal with that later."

"Alright," Jakob said, "we need to hole up somewhere."

"Dad, I think we're near...Wait, pull over!"

"Kid, we're not stopping unless you've got a damn good reason."

"Stop the car, Jakob," Luke snapped. "Sam, what do you see?"

"We're on the 33!"

She was right. Luke squinted at the sign up ahead. He still didn't have a clue where they were, but it was something.

Wait.

Thirty...

"Drive south until you see a gas station and take the next left," Luke said.

"You think Elena's okay, Dad?"

"I hope so, baby. I don't think Cipher would find her all the way out here."

"...You're talking about Neves, right?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. Cipher's been gunning for her and Dom's kid, but—"

"Dom's kid?" Elizabeth lifted her head. "Hobbs, tell me your DSS partner didn't shag Toretto."

"Letty was dead, Dom was lonely, Elena got pregnant," Luke said, keeping his voice low. "It's complicated. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm sorry, did I die and wake up in the middle of a telenovela?"

"Woman, you have no idea how much I wish that was true."

The drive was simultaneously shorter and longer than Elizabeth expected. Houses were scattered amidst trees, some concealed from the road by patches of forest and others not. There was the occasional farm before the SUV was swallowed up by trees again, hiding whatever lay on the other side. The air was cool on her skin, buffeting her after Luke lowered the window down to try and purge the smell of smoke and fumes.

They followed a road all the way down through the woods until they reached another turnoff, then Luke signaled Jakob to stop the car and the four of them piled out. Elizabeth winced as she stretched her legs, clothes and skin stained with soot. As soon as the fire had burnt itself out and the plane touched down, she'd run without looking at her surroundings. There was no sense in wasting time finding out just what an exploding phone battery could do, and frankly, Elizabeth didn't care.

All that mattered was running.

"We're walking from here," Luke said, taking Sam's hand. "Come on, baby."

The tree canopy shielded them completely from any overhead satellites. At least until they reached the end of the street and the start of a private road. Luke picked his daughter up, gesturing for Jakob and Elizabeth to follow him. The two stayed back, eyes focused on their surroundings, until Luke heard a voice.

"Whoever you are, you're trespassing! Come any closer and I'll—"

"Elena, it's me! I've got Sam with me!"

"Hobbs?"

"And two others..." He set Sam down and walked forward, hands raised, stepping out from under the trees. "Please, we need your help."

"Who are the others?"

"Elizabeth and Jakob. They're...helping me. It's a long story."

"I've got time. How's coffee sound?"

"It sounds great."

"Come on then, but Marcus is asleep so try to keep your voices down."

Chapter Text

"Feel better, Sam?"

"Yeah." The kid sniffed and hugged Elena. A bath and some good food was apparently just what the ten year old ordered. "Thanks."

"Of course. What about you, Luke?"

"I'm good. Thank you for this. I—I don't know how I'm even going to repay you."

"And them?"

Luke glanced out on the porch, frowning at the sight of Elizabeth and Jakob sitting side by side. Her head rested against his shoulder, and his arm was around her waist. What the hell were those two thinking getting fucking cozy when the sole reason they were in this shit was them?

"They'll be fine," he said.

"No, they won't," Elena murmured. "Go take them a drink each. It's the least you can do."

"Woman, I ain't their babysitter."

"Actually, I think they're yours."

Luke snorted. That was singlehandedly the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. He didn't have babysitters, and he certainly had no need for any either. Luke was more than capable of looking after himself.

"Hobbs." A first aid kit was pressed into his hands, followed by two icy bottles of water and some sandwiches. "They took care of you. Now take care of them. Don't be the asshole I know you can be."

He opened his mouth to argue but not a goddamn word came out. When Elena was right, she was right. Luke sighed and walked out onto the porch, clearing his throat as the door shut behind him. "Hey, Elena made sandwiches, and there's water. Eat, drink, and clean yourself up. Don't argue with me today, Beth, alright?"

"Tell her thank you." Jakob took the water, kit, and food, and set it aside. "So what's your next move?"

"I'm calling Nobody in the morning. Keys are on the dash if you want to take the car and disappear before the Agency gets here."

"Sounds like a good idea." The asshole stood, turning to look at Luke. He held his hand out and Hobbs shook it without hesitation, then Jakob grabbed the two sandwiches and a water, and walked down the steps toward the SUV. "Think I might do that now."

Luke lowered himself down onto the porch steps and sat, leaning back on his hands. If Elizabeth cared about him being there, she didn't show it. Hell, Shaw didn't so much as move her head to look at him.

"If you want to leave, woman," Luke said, "now's the time."

"We made a deal, remember? The job isn't over yet while Cipher still has her money, and Sam isn't safe."

"I'm giving you an out."

"And I'm refusing it."

"Beth."

Shaw winced as she turned her hands over, exposing the untreated burns. Sweat and soot were smeared on her face, and her clothes ruined by the smoke. It probably hurt to breathe too when Luke thought about it. No doubt the air would've been hot enough to burn the inside of her mouth or throat while Elizabeth ran.

"All this," she said, "and I have nothing to show for it? Fuck that. I'm not walking away while Cipher still lives."

"Okay." Ignoring the departing SUV, Luke cracked open the bottle of water beside him and held it out. "Come on. At least have some or Elena will come out here and kick both our asses."

Elizabeth nodded and took the water, drinking one sip at a time. Her mouth was dry, lips too, and every swallow made it feel like a hundred wasps were stinging her throat over and over. "So...were you serious about calling that asshole?"

"Maybe in a few days. I don't think anyone needs to know where we are just yet."

Sam needed to process things first. They all did, realistically, and Luke needed to figure out exactly where the hell to begin with an apology. The things he'd said sat in the back of his mind, playing on a loop as if to remind Luke of just who he could become when the situation called for his soul to be thrown out the window.

"Alright." Elizabeth set the bottle aside, pulled herself to her feet and slowly made her way down the front steps. "Is there a hose or a mud room? I don't want to stink up your partner's house."

"Please," Elena's voice came from behind them, "feel free to have a hot shower. I imagine you need one after today, and I've set up the spare beds. Hobbs, you can take the couch."

Her tone said she wasn't arguing with anyone tonight, and the look on Elena's face backed that up. Luke nodded and held his hand out to Elizabeth who'd just pulled her boots off. "C'mon."

"I can walk."

"I'll show you where the bathroom is."

"Oh for—Fine." Elizabeth took his hand, allowing him to lead her inside. He had the first aid kit in his other hand and the bottle of water tucked into his pocket. "You know if this is you marking your territory, Jakob's gone so it's all rather pointless."

"It's not."

"Then why are you acting weird? If you just want to talk, Hobbs, let's talk."

"I'm not." He stopped outside the bathroom, pushing the door open to reveal the shower. "I shouldn't have said what I...I'm sorry about earlier. It was a low blow."

"Yeah, it was, and if you ever say things like that to me again, I'll forget all about your nice partner and your cute kid," Elizabeth said, stepping inside and turning around to face him. "But we both knew that it had to be you. There was no other way Cipher would trust what she heard unless it came from you."

"...You need a hand?" asked Luke, changing the subject before the conversation went any further.

Shaw nodded and moved out of the way. Luke didn't dare glance over his shoulder to see what kind of look Elena was giving him, or Sam, for that matter. Whatever the two of them thought, it wasn't like that. Not anymore at least. No plane meant no Cipher, and that meant no more romantic bullshit. Things could finally go back to normal for him and Elizabeth.

Luke tossed the first aid kit in the sink then looked at Elizabeth, already wincing as she carefully lifted the hem of her shirt up. For some reason, he couldn't get rid of the feeling that Shaw had been hiding the worst of her injuries. When he asked if she wanted something to bite down on, she shook her head, so Luke took over.

He'd been right. There was a contact burn on her upper back, near the top of her shoulder. She must have hit a wall and bounced off it, Luke figured. Her shirt came off easy enough once he peeled the material free, then Elizabeth got her pants off with one hand and stepped into the shower while he adjusted the temperature.

Cool, not cold, and a gentle spray at that.

Elizabeth stayed in the shower for twenty minutes, teeth grit and eyes squeezed shut while they cleaned and treated her burns like they should've already done. She didn't complain, didn't flinch when Luke dressed them. No, she took it all like this was just a regular day at work...and that concerned him. Shaw was burying it all, pulling that mask on and going into defense mode as if none of this fucking bothered her.

As if she wasn't well beyond her breaking point.

"Thank you," Beth murmured when all was said and done, and she had a loose tank top on with a pair of grey sweatpants. Lucky for them, Elena was yet to abandon her maternity clothes—to no surprise, they were the only things she had which would fit Shaw who was close to twenty pounds heavier and four inches taller than her. "I mean it."

"No problem," Elena said. "Any friend of Hobbs and all that."

Once the kids were fed and put to bed, Luke stretched himself out on his designated couch. His feet hung well over the end, but it was better than the floor. Certainly better than a night in the SUV they no longer had possession of too. He groaned and rolled onto his side, reaching for the lukewarm mug on the coffee table he'd been neglecting for an hour, and took a sip.

"So how did you two meet, Hobbs?" Elena must have seen the glance Elizabeth gave him because she chuckled and leaned back on her seat. "Ah, let me guess, you have history."

"You could say that," Luke chuckled. "Elena, meet Elizabeth Shaw. Beth, Elena."

"Shaw? As in..."

"Unfortunately, yes," said Elizabeth, seated on a separate chair to Luke's right, "and like all Shaws, I have a certain predilection toward wanting him deceased, but that's on hold for the foreseeable future."

"We're a team now."

"And this half is going to sleep. Elena, thank you for the hospitality, and I'll see you in the morning, Hobbs."

"Good night, Beth." As soon as Shaw was gone, Elena gave him a look that said he had ten seconds to spill his guts or she'd make him spill them. They were on the porch before Luke could get a word out, with Elena riding his ass like she was more than capable of getting blood from a stone. "Tell me the truth, Hobbs. Is she someone I need to worry about?"

"No."

"You trust her?"

"No," Luke admitted, "but she won't hurt you or the kids. Elizabeth isn't like her brothers. Not in that way. I—If Cipher turned up here tomorrow, she'd be on our side. I mean, she is on our side."

"So I won't wake up in the morning and find my son gone?"

"Elena, I promise you, I wouldn't have brought her here if I thought she was a threat to you or Marcus."

The skepticism in her eyes was all too apparent when Elena said, "You'd better hope that doesn't change."

"It won't." That was the only thing Luke was certain of right now. The conviction in Elizabeth's voice when she'd said I'm with you had been real. Whether he did trust her or not, that didn't matter half as much as their status as allies, or the look in Shaw's eyes as the words I'm yours came from her mouth. "She has no reason to want to hurt you, or Marcus."

"He's a Toretto. Dom's son."

"He's a child, Elena. Elizabeth doesn't hurt kids or women."

Why the hell was he defending her? Luke couldn't deny Elena had a point, especially given her history with the Shaws, never mind his own history with them all. It was a safe assumption to make that despite the friendly persona Elizabeth presented, she wouldn't hesitate to turn on them...even if it felt like the wrong one. In his gut, he knew it was wrong. Despite her words, and everything else, Elizabeth wasn't going to just throw him to the wolves.

Not after everything she'd been through.

Certainly not after what she'd done.

The frustration in Shaw's voice had been palpable before, and Luke could empathize with it. She was physically burned, broken, with nothing to show for it except a new set of scars and the kind of determination that would get Elizabeth killed if she charged in head first sans a plan.

"I want to believe you, Luke, but—"

"I get it. We'll be out of your hair in a couple days. Until then, I'll keep her on a short rope." As if he even needed to. The woman had practically sworn herself into his service. All Elizabeth had to do was kneel while Luke touched her on the shoulders with a sword and the ridiculous image forming in his head would be complete. "God," yawned Luke, "what time is it? You should get some sleep."

"Sounds like a good idea, and Hobbs?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good to have you back."

"I knew you'd say that, woman."

Luke smiled as Elena went inside, leaving him alone on the porch. He heard the creak of her bedroom door when it closed, then the house was plunged into silence. No cars on the nearest road, no hum of a plane's engines, no voices talking throughout the night. After a month of doors going thud, being surrounded by people and machines, not even hearing the hum of a refrigerator was...eerie.

Unsettling and—

"Hobbs!"

His head jerked up at the quiet hiss, eyes scanning the darkness that surrounded him. Luke squinted, trying to make out if someone was out there, but he couldn't see a damn thing. Shit. No gun, no weapon except himself, and no backup. He stood, weight shifting to his right leg so he could launch off the steps at a moment's notice, then a shape moved toward him from the eastern edge of the house.

The shape became a figure, and that figure became a face that drained all the tension from his body in an instant. He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing as Elizabeth sat herself down on the bottom of the steps.

"Jesus, you're lucky I'm not carrying." Luke said, keeping his voice low. "You trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Yes."

"Shut up," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Luke walked down and seated himself on the preceding step behind her, stretching his legs out. Elizabeth leaned backwards and rested her arms on his thighs like he was a damn couch, the back of her head against his chest. "I take it you can't sleep?"

"Not a wink."

Him neither. Not that he'd tried yet, but Luke had the oddest feeling he'd be sleeping rough tonight. He yawned and propped his arms up on the step behind himself, staring at the trees that surrounded Elena's property. Someone could approach from every single direction and they wouldn't know until it was too late.

Unless she had an alarm system rigged up.

One they'd trip if they went too far.

Damn.

"You got any—"

"Bombs up my ass? No," Elizabeth said, causing him to snort, "but if you don't trust me, feel free to check."

"Woman, it is too late for you to be running your goddamn mouth."

"Speak for yourself."

"Beth." Luke grunted as the wooden step dug into his back. Fuck, this wasn't comfortable in the slightest. "Alright, I gotta move. I can't..." He pushed himself upright and sat forward, forcing Elizabeth to adjust her own position. She turned sideways on the step, resting her upper body back against his right leg, and smothered a yawn. "...Really?"

"If you want me to move, just say so."

"No." Although part of him wondered just what it was with Elizabeth and leaning on things and people. Maybe it was an old habit, or maybe that was just how she communicated. Earlier with Jakob, he might have mistaken them sitting there like that for some cutesy lovebird bullshit if Luke didn't know better. Good thing he did, otherwise who knew what could've slipped out of his mouth. "It's fine."

Not that he cared what she did with Jakob, although he couldn't quite say the same for her. That whole 'I don't share' thing was cute coming from hormonal teenagers, but from a grown woman it was...sexy.

"It takes some of the pressure off my ribs," Elizabeth suddenly said, like she'd read his mind. "Doesn't hurt quite so much to sit like this without a cushion."

"You want one?"

"No, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She wiggled slightly on the step, then paused. "Fuck, this is absolutely killing my ass. You want a—"

Luke stood slowly, giving Elizabeth enough time to react and move before he stepped onto the porch and grabbed the cushions from the two wooden chairs behind them. He wedged one under himself when he sat back down, then signaled for Elizabeth to move. Instead of standing, she arched her back, giving Luke just enough time to slip the cushion into place under her ass.

"Thanks," Shaw said, and proceeded to get comfortable again. "So how long do you think you'll stay here?"

You, not we. Was Elizabeth already thinking of running? Or was Luke just reading too much into it? Whatever the answer, he hoped it was simply a slip of the tongue and not something more.

"Only until I call Nobody."

"Right. You said you'd do that, didn't you?"

"Beth, if you want to leave before he shows up, I can borrow—"

"Cipher's still alive."

There was a finality to her voice, like this was going to be the last they talked about it. God willing, it would be, because as much as Luke wanted to deny it, he'd gotten used to having company.

Waking up every day for a month and knowing there was someone else around—someone he could talk to who wasn't his ten year old daughter, someone Luke didn't have to hide anything from—felt kind of nice. Ridiculous too, given their history, but nonetheless it was easier knowing that he wasn't stuck inside his own head, forced to deal with this fucking nightmare alone.

"And Sam isn't safe yet," Elizabeth continued. "I'm not going anywhere until those two things change...I'm with you, remember?"

Yeah, he did, because how could he forget?

It's you and I.

How could he forget himself pulling her onto the couch, kissing her like if he just held on long enough, Elizabeth would become someone else that he didn't hate. As if she'd magically turn into a woman who didn't piss him off to no end.

I am your partner.

A woman he could wake up in bed with, cook breakfast with. Maybe even spend the rest of his life with. Someone who'd still stand by him when work sent his ass halfway around the world.

Your bitch on a leash.

The kind of person who wouldn't walk out when things got hard and he made mistakes.

I'm on your side.

But that was fantasy, not reality, and what a fucking joke reality was. God had to be laughing his ass off now, watching Luke sit there thinking about an entirely different life he could be leading if only the right kind of woman finally came along. If only he could go on a date without worrying about whether or not the person sitting opposite him was willing to play second fiddle to Sam. Not that any of his ventures into the dating game ever made it that far—as soon as Luke raised the issue of his daughter, most women walked away.

They didn't want to mother someone else's child, as if they were in any way worthy of being Sam's stepmom. As if they were willing to put in the time on weekends and accommodate his schedule anyway, and embrace a life that didn't involve dressing up and getting drunk on Friday nights, acting like they were college students and not forty-somethings who had to coach a soccer team the next morning.

He couldn't blame them, and Luke never did for that matter, but it didn't make things any easier. Not after almost six years of being on his own, fighting tooth and nail to give his daughter the life she deserved. Granted, the one thing him being perpetually single did help with was the problem of Sam ever getting hurt. No long term girlfriends meant no emotional attachments, and that meant there was no chance his daughter would have her heart broken when things went south.

"Fuck, it's getting late," Elizabeth yawned, looking up at him. "You want to take the spare bed? I'll sleep on the couch."

"Nah. I'll climb in with Sam. Make sure she doesn't wake up alone."

"Okay."

"It's going to be rough for a while, I think."

"Yeah," she nodded in agreement, "good thing she has you."

Chapter Text

The horror crept in like a shadow, and Luke couldn't do a damn thing to stop it because there was no stopping what came next. All he could do was hug her, hold her, until Sam exhausted herself from crying and screaming, and reassure her that it wouldn't ever happen again. Little things set her off, made his daughter fall to pieces each and every time, and he couldn't fucking stop it.

But at least he was there, protecting her. Keeping Sam safe, because in the moments between the tears, she was happy.

Free.

Laughing as he got half stuck in the door of the chicken coop Elena kept out back with hens pecking at his shoes or perching on him. Giggling when Luke narrowly avoided hitting himself in the head with a cupboard door. Smiling the second he brought out lunch, a picnic rug, and told Sam they were going for a walk.

Just the two of them.

By the end of the day, Sam was too exhausted to cry anymore. The second her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light. No complaints, no resistance, which left him with four hours to fill until Luke forced himself to crawl into bed and sleep.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat himself next to Elena, stretching his legs out and relaxing on the porch. Marcus was asleep, the house was silent, and he had his partner by his side. Life was back to normal, or as normal as it could be right now.

Tomorrow, he'd ring his brothers, organize a car, and the two of them could meet Mateo and Jonah somewhere safe.

Two.

But there was three-

Luke lurched to his feet, almost throwing himself through the door as he walked inside. He hadn't given her a thought all day, hadn't checked on her or seen her for that matter. A lump lodged in his throat as his heart rate spiked; tension flooded Luke's body the second he shoved the door open and stepped inside. His gaze landed on the bed, then bounced off it, as if his brain didn't want to process what he was seeing.

Bloody sheets, bloody skin, torn and bloody clothes. Elizabeth sprawled on the bed, her throat and stomach-

"Dad?"

Sam.

Fuck. It was just a dream. A horrible, no good, messing with his head kind of dream. Luke's heart still raced in his chest as he blinked, finding himself face to face with his daughter. Apparently with a plate stacked with pancakes in her hands, a smile on her face, and what looked like an extra large glass secured in her lap. An extra large milkshake if the floating scoop of ice cream was any indication.

"Hey," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Baby, what time is it?"

"Eight thirty."

Oh. Good. Luke groaned, pushing himself up and tugging off his shirt. He was going to have to wash it later and start figuring some things out, like more clothes, firearms, and a car. They couldn't continue to stay here and put Elena or Marcus in danger. He'd been right about that much, dream or otherwise. The three of them needed to connect with his brothers, get out of town and disappear.

Get under the radar, get underground, before Cipher came looking for payback.

"You going to eat all that?"

"Yes," Sam said, grinning and holding her plate away from him. "Yours is in the oven."

That figured. No doubt Elena had cooked up a batch, knowing he'd wake up hungry. Shit, he always woke up hungry. "Alright. You enjoy your breakfast," said Luke, leaning over and kissing Sam on the top of her head. "Dad needs a shower. I'll see you later."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too, baby."

Luke walked out and left his daughter to eat, stretching the kinks from his back as he went. Seated in the living room were Elena and Marcus while the door to the other bedroom was closed. Either Elizabeth was still asleep then or she'd closed it behind her. Whichever the answer was, he'd soon find out.

He stepped inside the bathroom, shut the door, and dropped his pants. The shower wasn't running, the bathtub was empty, and he couldn't see any sign of dumped clothes. That was good. It meant Shaw...

...was standing in front of the sink, towel hanging off her already dressed lower body. Tense and staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, Elizabeth tried to make her mouth work but nothing came out. Her fists clenched, then those lips pressed together and Shaw relaxed. She leaned her hip against the counter, angling herself toward him. "Enjoying the view?"

Luke let his gaze drop, taking in every inch of her upper body. She had no obvious definition from cutting, no excess muscle for the sake of it-just a honed figure built for one thing: survival. Maybe a month ago, he might have kept his eyes at a respectable angle and height. Now, Luke was pretty sure they were well past the point of giving a damn about inappropriate workplace behavior.

"Is that a trick question?"

She scoffed and turned her back to him. "Get your ass over here."

"You want a hand?"

"Please."

Four steps and he was behind her, all but breathing down her neck. Luke treated and dressed her shoulder, ensuring the gauze was in place before Beth slipped her bra on. He wrangled her shirt next, sliding it down until the hem reached past her hips. "Anything else?"

Elizabeth packed the med kit away, grasping the counter to keep herself upright. It would be so easy to run, to go back to her room and lock herself away. Then she could delude herself into thinking she could run the clock backwards and return to normality. Get rid of the craving—the itch she couldn't scratch—that stirred every time she looked at the asshole behind her.

Every time he made her laugh or smile; every time Hobbs found some excuse to touch her that left her aching. Like the other day when they'd been laying there in her bed, with his hand on her body, and Elizabeth felt the closest she'd come to safe in a very long time. But it wasn't Hobbs she wanted, was it?

He was just a proxy, which meant any man—even Jakob—could replace him, and it wouldn't make the slightest difference because the truth was she was chasing a feeling. Yearning for something Beth hadn't found in a long time, and in all likelihood would never find again. What that something was, she just couldn't remember. She knew the distant memory of it, the way it made her heart flutter and the world stand still, but Elizabeth couldn't put a name to it.

Not anymore.

"Beth?"

She kept her gaze focused on the counter as Luke's fingers molded to the curve of her waist. His grip was strong, hands firm, yet in just two seconds that would change. The moment the word no left her mouth, he'd walk away and leave her standing there like a fool who wished the world would change but refused to so much as look for a shooting star.

"I—"

"Hobbs!"

Elena.

He let go in an instant and ran, leaving his pants on the floor, but thankfully still wearing his boxer briefs. Elizabeth walked out after him, heart rate spiking when she heard the familiar sound of tires squealing. What the hell was going on? Had Jakob led Cipher to their door? Or were they about to find themselves face to face with someone else altogether?

What kind of nightmare was she about to walk in...

"You want to put some pants on, mate?"

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and stood at the end of the hallway that led to the lounge room. Somewhere outside was Deckard, and God only knew who else. People she didn't want to see any time soon, if ever again.

"How about you start with what the hell you're doing here?" asked Hobbs.

"Getting you four to safety. Grab Sam, your pants, and let's go."

"We're not going anywhere until you talk, Shaw."

"Cipher. Mercenaries. Coming here. Very bad. That enough for you?"

"Yeah."

If Deckard was telling the truth, they were so far up shit creek without a paddle that it wasn't funny. Jesus, had Jakob said something? It seemed unlikely but...maybe not. Threatening Elena would get him Dom, and that was the end goal for all of them, wasn't it? Really, who among them didn't want to kill Toretto?

"Kid?" Elizabeth knocked twice on Hobbs' bedroom door before pushing it open. Sam was still eating her pancakes, alternating between chewing and crying. There was a growing pile of used tissues in a wastebasket, and tear streaks marred her brown cheeks. "Hey, you okay? I know Elena's cooking is amazing but..."

"Yeah." Sam sniffed and blew her nose, wiping her face after. A pang of something radiated in Elizabeth's chest, making her stand a little straighter and a little more ready. She had her back to the door jamb, allowing her to see the front entryway. "Do you know where my dad is?"

"He's outside. Deckard Shaw is here too. Seems you guys are going somewhere safer."

"Is Hattie with him?"

"Maybe. I don't know." She hadn't exactly been out there, nor did Elizabeth have any real interest in stepping foot outside the house to check. "Why don't you go find your dad and I'll get his big boy pants?"

"Dad's pants?" The kid snorted, only to start giggling. "He's running around in his underwear?"

"Uh-huh. "

Giggles turned to laughter. Sam grinned, body shaking as she put her fork down and wheezed, only to point and start giggling yet again as—in Elizabeth's peripheral vision—Luke approached the doorway. She stepped aside, letting him walk in only for Sam to burst into tears as he scooped her up off the bed and held her.

"Come on, baby," Luke murmured, hugging her tight. "It's time to go."

Elizabeth fetched Hobbs' pants from the bathroom, not allowing herself a single glance at whoever and whatever awaited them outside. The last thing she wanted was to see Owen's face, or Deckard's. If she did, there was every chance Elizabeth would be the one to fall apart next, but crying would be the least of the things she did.

"Here." She held up Luke's pants, letting him take them. Two sheets of plastic wrap later, Sam's pancakes were ready to be eaten in the car, along with the plate of maple syrup-coated bacon and pancakes that'd been sitting in the slowly cooling oven ready for Hobbs. "Breakfast too."

"Thanks." He let Sam down before getting dressed and taking the two plates from Elizabeth. "Here, baby. Take these, go sit in the car and finish yours. I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay."

The moment Sam was outside, Hobbs immediately shifted his attention. Elizabeth could feel his eyes practically boring holes into her head, but she didn't look up or meet his gaze. It'd be too awkward now, because this was it, wasn't it? The end of their partnership. The death of it before it had even truly began. With Deckard and the others here, there was certainly no need for it to continue.

"...You want to tell me what that was about?"

"What?"

"I could hear Sam laughing. What was so funny?"

"Oh. I—" Elizabeth leaned against the wall and gestured vaguely. "I said I'd grab your pants. She asked if you were in your underwear. I told her yes." She shrugged, still not quite looking at him. It'd be easier to walk away if the look in his eyes didn't get burned into her brain. That happy, dumb, slightly wrinkled, lit up from the inside look Hobbs got whenever he talked about his daughter. "I guess she has a sense of humor."

"Yeah, she does. So you ready?"

"What?"

"Grab your shoes and let's go. Come on."

God, he wasn't going to make this easy, was he? Not that there was any real easy way to say she planned on walking away at the first opportunity. This opportunity. Partner or not, Elizabeth had done her job, hadn't she? She'd kept up her end of the bargain. Sam was safe. Now it was time for her to disappear. "Hobbs, I—"

"You want to leave, don't you?

No. Maybe. Yes...Yes, she wanted to leave, because what was the point in staying? "Deckard's here. You, Elena, and your kids are safe. It's time for me to go."

"But Cipher isn't dead, and you said last night you wouldn't be going anywhere until she was. So what's changed?"

"...You know what's changed."

"No, I don't, and I ain't interested in standing around playing guessing games with you so spit it out or forever hold your peace."

She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Deckard was here, and they were here too, whoever they were. It had to be more than just him on his own, or Deckard wouldn't be moving all four of them at once. "Getting in that car means going to wherever Owen is. It means someone's dying today, and that someone will probably be me."

"Beth."

Something in Hobbs' voice made her gut twist into knots. Shit. "...He's outside, isn't he?"

"Everyone is." Death by firing squad it was then. Elizabeth could try to avoid them all she wanted, but there was no way to walk out that door and not find herself face to face with eleven assholes who had no reason to think she was anything other than the enemy. "But for whatever reason, my partner's still in here, which means we can't leave yet."

"Luke."

"I'm not spending the day debating you so which is it? Are you someone who keeps her word or just a two-faced bitch waiting to put a knife in my back? Because either you're my partner or you aren't, and you've got about five seconds to—"

"Your partner," she said, "not theirs." Elizabeth pushed off the wall and walked toward the other side of the room, shoving her hands in her pockets. Hobbs knew exactly what to say to get under her skin, didn't he? All but dragging her by the leash she'd handed him, poking her and putting pressure on whatever remained of her sense of honor until she did exactly what he wanted. "I'm not on their team, I am not their friend, and I didn't make a deal with them either. If you try to play me, I walk. Leave me alone in a room with Toretto and I'll bury him before Jakob gets a chance."

"I'm still waiting to hear an answer, Elizabeth."

Oh, of course, how remiss of her. She pivoted on her feet, turning to face Luke before marching straight toward him. Elizabeth planted her hands on his chest, shoving Hobbs back into the door jamb. He grunted on impact, all while she got as close to being in his face as she could get. "Fuck you. That's my answer."

"A 'yes' would suffice."

"I like mine better." Shaw glanced down for two seconds before a smug, arrogant smirk formed on her face. Her fingers trailed down to his waist, left hand coming to rest just above the hem of his pants. "Apparently so do you."

God, he hated that smirk, and the wicked look in her eyes that accompanied it. The glint that said Elizabeth had played this game so many times she could seduce him in her sleep if she wanted to...and that she knew Luke wouldn't stop her if she tried.

"If you're done," Luke said, "Sam's—"

A single creak from the porch and he was shoving her out the door, getting his game face on as Luke walked. His partner, not theirs. A partner they didn't need to know about or all he'd hear for the next week was Deckard chewing him out. Yet the more he considered it, the more Luke couldn't find it in himself to give a fuck what any of them thought about the situation.

It wasn't Deckard's daughter who'd been kidnapped. It wasn't Toretto who'd been on that plane, his back up against the motherfucking wall, desperate for an ally who could help keep his head above water. Someone who'd stop Luke from giving in to the absolute worst side of himself. Elizabeth hadn't exactly done the job well, but now he had Sam in his arms and that was all that mattered.

"Come here." Luke hooked the back of Elizabeth's pants with his fingers and pulled her toward him, catching her before she could fall. He put his right arm around Shaw's waist, securing her body to his, then kept on walking. "I'm not interested in middle school antics where we pretend this isn't happening."

"And I'm not your girlfriend so at least try to avoid giving anyone the wrong impression."

"How about you just let me worry about that?" He moved his hand to her lower back and let it rest there. "I'm still holding your leash, remember?"

"How could I forget?" There was something in her voice that made Luke look down. Her facial features were schooled to an approximation of neutral, and the empty look in her eyes told him Elizabeth had switched into survival mode. All things considered, she might as well have been walking out to face the firing squad. "I'm your bitch, aren't I?"

Yeah, she was.

His.

Not Cipher's, Jakob's, or Owen's.

Time and time again since the start of all this, she'd chosen Luke, and Elizabeth was still standing here now, wasn't she? Every time the question of her loyalty was brought up, the answer was the same. Every time push came to shove, Elizabeth decided to stay and fight with him instead of running away, no matter how much pain she was in.

"Beth."

"What?"

"Thank you."

"...We made a deal, Fed," Elizabeth said, glancing up at him. "I'm just holding up my end of it."

Was that really how she saw it? Or was that just how Shaw framed it in her head so she wouldn't have to acknowledge that maybe she was wrong? That despite what everyone said, despite what she said, Beth wasn't nearly as monstrous as she made herself out to be? "I think you've done more than that."

"Cipher isn't bankrupt or dead. I haven't done a damn thing."

Every word was a brick, meant to rebuild the wall that divided them. Luke could see it in the way she straightened herself out and squared up her shoulders for a fight. Elizabeth smoothed out her shirt too, taking a breath before she walked out ahead of him. He caught up to her in three steps, keeping Elizabeth well within arm's reach so if anything went wrong, he could grab that proverbial leash.

"...Hobbs, you want to tell me what the fuck she's doing here?" Deckard was the first to react, and certainly not the last. Letty, leaning up against one of the four sedans parked outside Elena's house, visibly balked. Owen and Hattie stared like they were seconds from flattening their own sister. "She's working with—"

"Me," Luke said, shooting Deckard a look that said there wouldn't be any further discussion after this. Like he'd told Elizabeth, he wasn't going to stand there and indulge the kind of bullshit Luke knew would inevitably be thrown their way. "The day you three landed, I gave Elizabeth a job. She's been doing it."

"A job."

He nodded and kept walking toward the car Sam was sitting in, gesturing for Elizabeth to walk around the other side. She did, and sat herself beside his daughter. "There's no use having an inside woman if everyone knows about her."

Chapter Text

"You know how ridiculous you sound right now?" said Deckard. "Come on, Hobbs, think about it! She's only in this for herself."

All things considered, Luke having a front row seat to witness the unholy level of masochistic self-sacrificing tendencies that the Shaws had drilled into Elizabeth gave him a pretty good insight into exactly what she was in this for. The money held allure, no question about that, but no thanks to Cipher kidnapping his daughter, Elizabeth's interest had grown beyond finances.

Now she wanted her own personal brand of justice, and as messed up as it might be, Luke wouldn't hesitate to step aside and allow it. Anything short of that and he might as well slap a label on his forehead that read hypocritical asshole.

"We established that a month ago. Now if you don't mind, I'd prefer we have this conversation somewhere safer."

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke could see Elizabeth climb past Sam and move toward the door beside him, all but ready to step in at the first hint of a fight. He lifted his left hand into view and made a fist, signaling her to freeze. Shaw did, sitting with her head pointed in Deckard's direction. No doubt her gaze was locked on him as if her brother wore a homing beacon.

"I'm not bringing her back with us."

"This isn't a debate, boy. Get your ass in the car."

"Hobbs."

"Deckard, he's right." Like a gift from God, Ramsey stepped in. Maybe she sensed the shit about to hit the fan, or maybe she was the only one of them with a cool head right now who seemed to remember what Luke was capable. "We need to go."

Deckard scowled, almost as if he wanted to toss Luke through a wall and try and knock some sense into him. It wouldn't work. He'd made his choices, given his word in return—turning his back on that now would only be tantamount to complete and utter disrespect for what Elizabeth herself had done.

Before Shaw could get another word out, Luke circled around the sedan and got in, seating himself next to Sam. In a way, it'd be easier to grab the wheel if worse came to worst; he wouldn't have to climb around the damn driver's seat first.

"You want to start the car, kid?" Seated behind the wheel, eyes forward and fingers in a death grip, was Little Nobody. Clearly they'd drawn straws before figuring out who would be in which car. All the unease and tension in Eric's body couldn't be denied no matter how much he tried to mask it. "Or do you want to ride with Dom and we'll follow behind you?"

"It isn't like that," Eric said, glancing over his shoulder. "Things have happened in the last couple days. He—"

"He who?"

The kid took a breath and sank back into the seat, dropping his hands to his knees. Luke wasn't going to like what Eric said next, was he? The look on his face, reflected in the rear view mirror, was one of complete dread. "Mr. Nobody disappeared two days ago. There hasn't been any sign of him since. I called his daughter but Tess doesn't know anything. Neither does anyone else."

Well, shit.

That threw a spanner in the works.

"You try his safehouses?"

"Every single one. Hobbs, I even had local police go check his cabin up in Alaska. The man has gone AWOL. We're on our own."

"You think he's been kidnapped or killed?"

Little Nobody shrugged and started the sedan. "I don't know what to think."

They drove out of there without another word said between them. Even Shaw kept quiet, staring out the front windshield like she was anticipating all hell breaking loose or worse. Her left heel bounced up and down on the floor, lips pressed together and burnt hands resting by her sides. A betting man might have said she was nervous, but Elizabeth didn't seem like the type.

The truth was more likely to be Shaw was ready and waiting, preparing herself for whatever came next. Trying to figure out all the right moves before the chess pieces were even placed on the board and outmaneuver Cipher before the psychopath lifted a finger.

"...Dad?" Sam squeezed his hand as they reached the highway and started heading northeast. The three other cars trailed behind them, spread out in a loose formation. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe, baby." He squeezed back then lifted his arm, allowing Sam to hug him tightly. Luke held her like that as they drove, keeping his eyes on their surroundings. "Nothing's going to happen to you, I promise."

Eerily enough, nothing did. Every mile seemed far more peaceful than it should've been, especially once they got off the highway and took the long way around before finally heading south. Not east towards Mappsburg, the Farm, or some other hole in the ground where Cipher would never find them. Not west, or even north to Maryland, but south toward North Carolina, or somewhere in that direction.

Every minute that passed left him on edge. Luke's stomach churned in anticipation, adrenaline already beginning to build up in his body as he waited for a fight that seemingly wasn't coming. A fight that seemed less and less likely to occur as they passed a graveyard and began to drive through farmland. Empty, unused farmland that hadn't seen a fenceline in who knew how many years. There was nothing but trees and grass in every direction, the land flat save for old dams and the rare house that looked as abandoned as the farm it sat on.

"Dad?"

"Welcome to your new home until we catch Cipher," Little Nobody suddenly said as they reached an enormous faded red barn. There were eight houses—all clapboard, all weathered and old like they'd been sitting there for years—surrounding it, their porches clean and all of them facing inwards. "Don't take it at face value. It's not as bad as it looks. We've got a full Agency setup in there, and you two—"

"Which one are we in?" asked Luke. And just why in the hell had the Agency decided to dump them in the middle of nowhere? This wasn't backwoods small town Virginia, it was ghost town Virginia. The kind of place where they were unlikely to be spotted on any surveillance cameras, or see one, period. "Kid?"

"You guys are in lucky number seven. Keys are inside. I'll come by later after you're settled. Miss Shaw, you're number eight."

The sedan pulled up outside the house, giving the three of them moments to climb out before the car took off. Luke didn't ask where Little Nobody was going, or just where the hell their vehicles were. If they were being isolated, all but hidden from the modern world and by extension Cipher, it was for their own protection. Not that it'd work. They might as well have left a trail of breadcrumbs for Cipher to follow, unless the team knew something he didn't.

"Dad? Can we go inside?"

"You go in first." Sam immediately rushed up the stairs, leaving Luke standing there. "I'll be there in a minute."

"...You want to talk, don't you?" Elizabeth said, as if she was dreading the conversation already. She tucked her hands into her pockets and squinted at the house opposite his own, keeping her back to the empty cars and growing number of people thirty feet away. "Guess you've got sixty seconds."

"You know, if I was them, I'd have a team waiting in that house for you. You want to bunk with us?"

"No." When she turned to face him, there was a weight on her shoulders. Had Elizabeth resigned herself to being here, or was it something more serious? Not once had he stopped to wonder how exhausted she was, what was going on in her head. She had to be at breaking point by now, if not ready to fall apart the moment she felt safe. "I'm good."

"Beth."

"Minute's almost up. You shouldn't keep her waiting."

As easy as it would've been to stand around and argue, he knew Elizabeth was right. He'd told Sam one minute, not ten. Luke walked straight inside and found his daughter sitting on a couch, watching some kids show on cable TV.

With a quart sized tub of ice cream in her lap and a spoon in hand.

"Heh. I don't think so, young lady."

Sam looked up and smiled. "Got you! I haven't opened it, Dad."

"And you won't until tonight. Hand it over before the tub gets hurt."

"Okay. Can we go see Elena later?"

"Once we're settled in. We need to call Uncle Jonah first, and Mateo. Let them know where we are, let them know that you're safe."

"You talked to Uncle Jonah?"

"Yeah, I did. I wanted the best guys for the job. Now we have to regroup."

Luke took the quart and stashed it back in the freezer, alongside what looked like enough food to keep them fed for at least a month. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment and stared at the front door, the question of just what was happening across the way surfacing in the back of his mind. Had they grabbed Elizabeth? Or was he going to find her in the bathtub, unconscious after trying to drink the memories away?

How much damage would there be after she fell apart? Surely even Shaw would try to stop herself from diving right in the deep end. It wasn't as if Elizabeth was alone and up shit creek without a paddle...although all things considered, she might as well have been.

"Dad?"

"Mm?"

"How long are we going to stay here for?"

"I don't know, Sam. I don't think anyone's figured that part out yet. I'm sorry you got caught up in this."

"I know."

"You know what?"

"That you're sorry. You were saying it in your sleep."

The second the door shut behind her, her legs began to give way. Elizabeth stumbled toward the couch, collapsed onto it and sank into the cushions, trembling while silent sobs ripped free.

Each heave of her chest sent pain pulsing through it, as if the constant ache in her shoulder and hands wasn't enough. Tears and exhaustion followed for who knew how long, with numbness creeping in behind them.

One month and nothing to show for it...

No money, no information—all her plans had fallen apart the moment she was in the thick of it. Nothing came to fruition, nothing got any further than an idea in her head because why would it?

God, what a waste of time.

She'd had one job. One single job and Elizabeth couldn't even manage that because she was so far out of her depth it wasn't funny. So neck deep in shit that it became crystal clear she didn't have a single clue how to pull it off.

And why would she? She was a puppet on an apron string. An idiot who'd let herself be dragged into someone else's problems for no other reason than loyalty.

Now here she was yet again, all but dragged back into their mess. Trapped between prison, Cipher and—

"Knock knock."

Hobbs.

What the hell was he doing here? It'd only been five minutes since they spoke, hadn't it? There was no reason for him to be on her doorstep.

"It's open." Elizabeth sniffed and pushed herself up, drying her cheeks with her shirt as the door creaked. "What are you doing here, Fed? I told you not to keep her waiting."

"You up for dinner?"

"What?"

Hobbs walked in and helped himself to a seat on the couch. No shirt or shoes, just a pair of pants like he was on vacation or something. "Beth, it's almost five thirty."

Oh.

She'd been laying there for a while then.

"Right. Uh, no, I'm good. You go and enjoy yourself."

"Elizabeth, I don't think we're having the conversation you think we're having. I'm asking if you want dinner."

God, how exhausted was she that hours could pass without her noticing? How much pain and anger had she buried to survive this nightmare instead of simply confronting it? "I'm filling in the blanks. Dinner involves Toretto, barbeque, and his team, yeah? So thanks, but I'll pass."

"Not tonight."

"Okay. I'll still pass."

"You know, if you just don't want to have dinner with me, you can say so."

As much as she loathed him, dinner with Luke was fine. Spending time with him wasn't utterly intolerable, and Hobbs could make her laugh, at least. There weren't many men who fell into that category nowadays. ""I don't want to intru—"

Hurried feet rushed up the porch, then a knock sounded on the open door. "Hi! Um, Dad, Elena asked if we want to have dinner with everyone, and I said yes. Is that okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Bye!"

"Called it."

Shaw didn't say it too loud, but Luke heard her nonetheless. Once Sam's footsteps faded, he turned on the couch and lifted his leg up, getting comfy. "You get five seconds of being smug and then it's over."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"And why is that?" asked Elizabeth as she crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him like she couldn't believe he had the gall to tell her how to act beneath her own temporary roof.

"Because I'm going to close that door," Luke said, standing up, "and then we're going to talk."

"...Whatever you're planning to say, don't waste your breath. It's only going to go in one ear and out the other."

"I can be very convincing."

"Of course. You're Hobbs."

He shut the door and returned to the couch. "Now what's that supposed to mean?"

"When you speak, the world bends over backwards. It doesn't matter what you do or how you do it, as long as at the end of the day the bosses are happy and the job gets done."

"And for that, I paid my dues in blood. My team are dead. You know that. Don't act like—" Luke took a breath and sat back, exhaling as he sank into the cushions. "Is this even about me? Or are you just itching for a fight?"

With some reluctance in her voice, she admitted, "No, it's not...so go. Have dinner with your team."

Ah. Shaw was now in the anger stage of recovery, wasn't she?

The part of processing just what she'd gone through that left her snapping at everything, ready to rip someone's throat out if they looked at her wrong. Angry at herself, angry at the world, frustrated all of this had even happened, and furious it'd been allowed to happen in the first place. She was a pissed off bull who could only see red. Luke remembered the feeling well.

"Come with me," he said. "Have a beer or three. Eat some barbeque."

"No, but thanks for the invite."

"Elizabeth." She looked away, yet Shaw didn't get up to leave or tell him to. Her style of barbeque didn't involve sitting around a table, Luke knew that, and a good steak was no substitute for shashlik in summer with fire-baked potatoes and wine, followed by swimming in a river, but it had to be better than being alone in this house and stewing in her emotions. "I'm going to be sitting there, suffering the indignity of being in Deckard's company the entire time."

"Then why did you agree to go?"

...Was she purposefully being dense right then to mess with him? Or could Beth just not read between the lines? If he kept twisting her arm, would she even notice? Luke stood and moved into her new line of sight, only to notice the active struggle on her face as Shaw tried to suppress a smile. Of course. "You're messing with me."

"I'm also serious. You can talk all you want, it won't change things."

"Then how about I stop talking?"

Luke braced his hands on the back of the couch and planted his knees on either side of Elizabeth's legs. She stared up at him, not speaking as he settled his weight so the entire thing wouldn't tip over. Every breath Shaw took was shallow and uneven, mouth working to try and form words yet nothing came out; even when he leaned down and brought his head closer to hers, she didn't make a sound until...

"Don't do this to yourself. You're not a masochist. Walk away," she said, pressing one hand against his chest and pushing gently. "Go eat barbeque. Enjoy the peace and quiet before Cipher comes crashing down on our heads."

"Anna."

"What?"

"You can sit here and be miserable in this empty house, or you can sit with me and Sam, consume your weight in beer, meat and potato salad, and find yourself slightly happier, maybe even slightly drunker, than you are now."

"Jesus," Elizabeth groaned, dropping her hands and slumping down on the couch. "You don't ever quit, do you? Until you get what you want, we're going to go around and around in circles. I'll say no, you say yes, we argue, I say no again, you say yes, it all repeats ad nauseam."

"I'm Hobbs, remember?" said Luke, leaning just far back enough that he could still make eye contact with the woman beneath him. "And when I speak, you bend over too."

She glared at him like the words hadn't come from her mouth first. Elizabeth could try to call him a filthy old man all she wanted—and he knew it was coming sooner or later—but it was her who ran her damn mouth almost nonstop like fighting for her life had become the only thing Shaw was capable of. "Fuck you."

"Not until your ribs are healed, princess."

"Shut up, Jak—" Slowly but surely, she clapped her hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut as if anything she did could hide the damage; the fresh scars, both mental and physical, that Elizabeth now bore. "Give me two minutes to get presentable."

"You look presentable enough to me."

"I could be wearing nothing but a towel and you'd say the same thing."

"Oh, believe me, you wouldn't need the towel," Luke said, getting to his feet and giving her space to move. Shaw eased herself up, legs slightly wobbly, and staggered toward the short corridor that led to the rest of the one story house. He followed close behind, tucking his hands into his pockets while Beth figured out which room was hers. Taking up the doorway, he leaned against it and watched as she pulled open a short wooden dresser and found new clothes. "You want a hand?"

"Please."

Pushing off the doorjamb, Luke stepped up and helped her strip off, only to slip on a loose short-sleeved tee, denim shorts, and a crocheted cardigan. Nothing too heavy or tight, he noticed, or that would restrict her ability to move. Whether Elizabeth was conscious of it or not, her mind always went to ensuring she could escape any place or situation, didn't it?

"Two minutes isn't up yet," Shaw fidgeted with her shirt, tucking it into her shorts before second-guessing herself and pulling it free. "I still have—"

"Beth."

She paused, turning her head just enough to look back at him. That dark hair framed her face and equally dark eyes, and her lips pressed together like Shaw didn't know whether to ask if she was underdressed or overdressed. "What?"

"Stop delaying the inevitable. Let's go."

They were outside a minute later with Hobbs carrying a dining chair. The cool summer evening air and the faint scent of smoke blew in their faces, letting Luke smell the first hint of meat cooking, alongside whatever else Toretto and the others had thrown on the grill.

"Dad!" Sam shouted, waving her arm from a cluster of chairs around a table. "I saved you a seat."

"Thanks, honey. You want to tell Pearce to move his ass up? We need to make some room."

"Man, I just sat down, I ain't—" Roman looked over his shoulder, sitting next to the empty seat that divided him from Sam, then got up and moved his chair three feet to the left. "Hey, y'all," he said, keeping his voice low enough for only the team to hear. "Hobbs is bringing company."

Deckard glanced in Luke's direction first then returned his attention to the beer bottle in front of him. "Hostile inbound," he said between sips. "Three o'clock."

Seated on one end of the three tables they'd pushed together were the Shaws—Magdalene, Owen, Deckard and Hattie—with Roman and Elena sitting on either side of them.

"Alright," said Magdalene, keeping her voice low, "I don't want to hear a word out of you three tonight. Sit there and behave. She's your sister, not the bloody devil."

"You sure about that, Mum?"

"Hey, Toretto," Luke called out as he neared, "you mind if I bring a plus two?"

Dom looked over his shoulder for all of half a second before his attention went back to the chicken. "Why not? We don't have a spare chair—"

"I got it covered." Before anyone could get a word in edgewise, Luke moved his own seat, set the one he was carrying down next to Sam, and tapped the back with his hand. "Sit."

Elizabeth did, not giving him a single chance to boss her around further. She glanced up before Luke sat, planting his ass on Shaw's left, between her and Pearce. There was still a noticable gap between them and the rest of the team, but oddly enough Hobbs couldn't bring himself to care.

"What took you so long, Dad?" Sam was the first at the table to acknowledge their presence. "Did Beth have to find your big boy pants again?"

That giggle started again, and even the woman in question sat there and chuckled. Luke just leaned back, cracked his beer open and took a sip. For the sake of not causing a scene, he'd pretend he hadn't heard that, but the odds were very low Sam would drop the subject, least of all because his daughter didn't quite comprehend the implications of what she was saying when context was taken out of the equation.

"Not this time," Elizabeth said from between them. "Where the rest of his big boy clothes are, that's the real mystery. Seems your dad can't keep a shirt on for more than two seconds. "

And there was that music to his ears laugh, then Sam leaned away like she knew what was coming next. "Alright," said Luke. "You—"

"It wasn't me." Sam grinned and scooted her chair across by an inch. "I didn't say it!"

"—stop running your mouth in front of my daughter," he finished, giving Shaw a glare, "before I whoop your ass."

Just loud enough for them to hear, Deckard muttered, "I'd pay to see that."

Luke hadn't turned his head so much as an inch in the bald sumbitch's direction before he felt a hand discretely touch his leg. Beth squeezed just above his knee, drawing his attention to her, and smiled as she said, "You should do the same unless—"

"Brian," Dom called out. "You want to give me a hand?"

Elizabeth scoffed quietly. "Saved by Torettus Interruptus."

"Lucky for you."

"And lucky for you we have company." She tightened her grip, still looking at him like Shaw wanted to eat him alive. Anyone else might have seen nothing but a challenge—Elizabeth being Elizabeth and pushing back, threatening him. All Luke could see was the restrained smirk as she said, "Seems I have to be on my best behavior."

"This is your best?" Roman's quiet comment went ignored, though Luke sure heard Deckard make an amused sound. "I'd hate to see your worst."

"I have an idea. I grab two more beers, Mila, you sit there and play nice with the kids, and no one starts a fight."

Beth all but did a spit take, shoulders squaring up and tension going straight to her spine. She turned away, bracing one arm on the back of her chair even as Elizabeth visibly flinched from the movement. It seemed like for all of two seconds, this barbeque just might go off without a hitch...then she slid her chair back and stood.

"Thanks for the invite, Fed, but I think I'll pass. My throat's still sore from that fire."

Chapter Text

"Get up."

Well, this was an unexpected surprise. Hobbs was breaking into her house and ambushing her. Technically, Elizabeth supposed, it was more along the lines of simply entering the place. Why bother with personal security or locks at all if some squad of assholes were inevitably going to kick the door in?

"Sod off and let me sleep." She let out a strangled groan as a pair of hands pulled her off the bed and to her feet. "It's too early for—"

"Elle." Something about the sound of his voice made her look up. "Let's go."

"What's going on?"

There was one duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, stuffed with clothes. The now-empty wardrobe sat open, and on his other shoulder was a second duffel with what looked like the entire pantry inside it. "I've got a gut feeling, and I don't like it."

"This isn't because of last night, is it?" Elizabeth yawned into her hand. "You called me Mila in front of them. It pissed me off, so I left. No need to blow things out of proportion."

"Because of what you did? No." Luke slipped his arm around her shoulders, hustling her out of her bedroom and out the front door. He didn't say another word until they were secure inside Hobbs' house, the food packed away in his fridge and pantry cupboard, and the other duffel bag dumped beside the couch. "Deckard told Dom last night that certain problems would resolve themselves."

"...If you listen to every word that comes out of his mouth, you'll drive yourself insane." She leaned back on the couch, the cushions already adjusted behind her to support her ribs. "You should go to sleep. It's two thirty. I'll crash here."

"You're bunking with me."

"No."

"You want to get woken up when the cartoons come on?"

"...If this is all some ploy because you need an itch scratched, I'll take my chances with Sam."

"Trust me, this thing only looks comfortable to lay on."

"And the ploy?"

Luke chuckled and stood up, walking toward his room. "There isn't one."

"Good," Elizabeth said, reluctantly getting up and following him. "We're keeping all this above board and professional. Leaving everything on the plane where it belongs."

Her attention went straight to the enormous mattress as they entered the master bedroom. It certainly looked long enough that Hobbs' feet wouldn't dangle over the edge, nor would he be able to move in either direction and immediately fall off the sides. Surprisingly there were already two pillows positioned where her upper body would be, two for her head, and a wholly separate blanket as well. Clearly Luke was both more than prepared and looking to avoid a fight.

"You got a specialist lined up yet?" Elizabeth asked, helping herself to the side that was obviously hers.

"I'm working on it. Isn't easy finding someone available on short notice to be brought out to the middle of the woods." The bed creaked as Luke laid down. She felt the mattress sink slightly, then further, until her body almost started to tilt. Hobbs was next to her, alright, and likely closer than she thought. "By the way, there's a loaded gun in the drawer beside you with two spare mags. It's the same model you used on the plane."

"Mm-hmm."

"Beth."

"You want to pick up where we left off." It wasn't a question so much as her seeking confirmation of what she suspected. Why else tell her there was a gun, let alone choose the same model from a week ago, if the Fed didn't expect her to use it? "Keep practicing. Start teaching me how to fight."

"If we're going to take Cipher down, I need my partner at the top of her game."

"That's going to take time." Those cracked ribs of hers still needed to heal, and it didn't seem like there was anywhere to practice. They'd have to find a place, let alone ensure no one was going to be in the way if Hobbs decided he wanted her to pull the trigger. "Likely more time than we have."

"You think Cipher will pay us a visit."

"She has to know we're here by now. They practically left a breadcrumb trail." Sooner or later, Jakob would show up too. There wasn't a chance in Hell he'd pass up the opportunity to take out Dom and make his enemies feel his pain. "We're not exactly hidden from satellite either."

Hobbs made a noise of agreement, then the bed creaked again. Elizabeth found herself staring at him two seconds later as he leaned over her, propping himself up on his arms. She was never going to get used to this, was she? The sight of a man who looked like he'd been carved from marble by Michelangelo, given the breath of life by the gods, sitting there and gazing at her as if all this was normal? Making her laugh and smile as if they weren't living in a nightmare? It was intoxicating.

Least of all because under all that sugar and spice, there was someone dangerous. Someone who didn't flinch or run when he caught a glimpse of the monster behind the facade. Someone who could be more ruthless than even her.

Too bad he was Hobbs.

"Hey."

A federal agent.

"What?" asked Elizabeth.

Deckard's friend.

"We have time."

Her enemy.

A man who made her feel all the wrong things...

Yet the longer she looked at him—the longer she let herself enjoy coffee and beer, and a weird sense of safety that only existed in his presence—the more she wanted it all to stop. The more she wanted him to touch her. Kiss her. Roll her over, pin her to the mattress, and use his mouth to drive every last thought from her head.

"Okay."

Because the man who once condemned her to Hell was now the man who made her feel like she was in Heaven...

Cipher was right, wasn't she? Makarov had all but wrapped her around his finger, ruined her, and now he was going to do the same. Like a true professional, Hobbs only needed to snap his fingers, and she'd do far more than just bend over for him. Why else was she laying there in his bed, pretending all of this was part of the job?

"Beth."

"Get some sleep. It's late."

"In a minute. I'm not done yet."

"Clock's ticking, Hobbs."

"You really want to keep it above board?"

Well, that was the question, wasn't it? As long as Luke was at arm's length, as long as she didn't let herself get any more tangled up in him than she already was, he couldn't hurt her. If he couldn't hurt her, Elizabeth wouldn't have to exhaust herself by keeping her guard up twenty-four seven.

Not that she'd ever lower it in the first place.

Not while they were still here...

"It's the only way this works."

"No, it's not."

"Jesus. It's two a.m. We are not having an argument this early in the morning."

"Then how about you let me finish?"

Elizabeth gestured for him to get on with it. Preferably before she fell asleep to the sound of his voice and this all too tedious conversation. "The bed is yours."

"The way I see it, you have two choices when you wake up. Number one is you can be a professional, bored out of your mind, and slowly drive yourself insane because we both know that ain't no goddamn halo on your head."

"...Or?"

"Or you walk into the kitchen, kiss the chef, and at least try to enjoy the tedious weeks ahead of you. The first option requires you to walk on eggshells while playing nice with the Shaws, the team, and everyone else."

"And the second?"

"You drop this self-sacrificial family-pleasing bullshit that's got you more twisted up than a pretzel and start being the bitch from Hell who's going to help me kill Cipher."

If her jaw dropped, Luke didn't give any indication. Neither did he point out if she was gawking at him with a facial expression that suggested Elizabeth was having a stroke. The words that'd left Hobbs' mouth had certainly put a stop to her residual brain functions and now all she could do was blink and try to figure out something to say, but there wasn't a sentence in any language on Earth that could properly express the sudden surge of whatever it was inside Beth that left her utterly speechless.

Not that she needed to speak.

It turned out Hobbs wasn't finished.

"So, if we're going to do this, I need you at your worst."

As much as she wanted to scoff and tell him he didn't know what he was asking for, because the truth was Hobbs didn't, Beth kept her mouth shut. Her worst? Luke hadn't come close to seeing that yet. Despite what he thought, despite whatever Luke was telling himself right now, he didn't need her anything. What he needed—what he wanted—was a martyr. Someone to blame when he finally dropped this self-righteous goody two shoes act and shot Cipher in cold blood.

Someone who wouldn't bat an eyelid when Luke was at his worst.

Then he leaned in close and braced his hands on either side of her head. All two hundred and forty pounds of vengeful muscle hovered above her, close enough that Luke could have crushed her flat in a heartbeat if he wanted to. "What's your choice, Beth?"

Shit, he wasn't going to let her sleep until she actually said it, was he? She huffed, pushed herself up on her elbows and closed the remaining distance between their heads. His gaze was locked on her, eyebrows furrowed as if Luke didn't know what was coming next. Neither did she until Elizabeth tilted her head, holding that stare like he'd just become her lifeline.

"I'll take option three," she said.

"There is no option three."

"Yes, there is. You get the bitch from Hell, I work on my family issues, and that kiss doesn't—"

Luke suddenly moved in two seconds flat, rolling back to his side of the bed and putting distance between them as quiet footsteps sounded outside. Elizabeth settled under her blanket, half closing her eyes just before Sam walked into the bedroom, clutching a pillow and blanket, with tears staining her cheeks.

Shit.

"Dad?" The kid sniffed, wiped her eyes, and took a breath. "I can't sleep in there. It's..."

Too dark. Too quiet. Too isolated. Sam could have picked any reason at all, and Elizabeth would have felt that pang of sympathy in her chest, as if she didn't already.

"I know. Come on, baby," he said, patting the space beside him. "Climb in and I'll turn the light off."

Sam hugged him then clambered over Luke and curled up next to her dad while he fixed up her blanket, got her settled and kissed her on the forehead. "Are you two having a sleepover?"

"Something like that, which means in the morning there'll be..."

"Pancakes!"

"Uh-huh, so you'd better get some sleep," Luke said as he switched off the lamp, leaving her to lay there in the darkness and listen to the sound of their breathing. "You too, woman."

Elizabeth didn't reply. Deal or not, option three or not, something about this suddenly felt wrong. Like it was a huge mistake to be lying in bed with Hobbs, with his daughter, and pretending none of it was outside the realm of normality. What the hell was she even doing here? Why had she just let Hobbs rush her out the door without a fight? She didn't belong here, after all. Elizabeth was trespassing in his life, no ifs or buts about it, and yet her gut said that if she waited for the Hobbses to fall asleep, slipped out and went back to that empty, silent bedroom across the way, she would regret it.

Yet if she didn't, what kind of signal was that sending him?

That he could twist her arm at any time? That all Luke had to do was look at her with those dark, beautiful eyes and Elizabeth would do whatever he asked? Or that for some screwed up reason, she currently felt a sense of loyalty toward him. Loyalty that no one else had ever inspired in her before, including her own family. Maybe it was just empathy talking, though, and maybe once all this was over and there was some distance between them, this myriad of conflicting emotions would finally be gone from her body.

God, Elizabeth couldn't wait for this to be over. Better yet, for Hobbs to fall asleep so she could get out of this room and go curl up on the damn couch. At least there she wouldn't feel quite so much like an intruder as she did right now.

The seconds ticked by, then minutes, until Sam was asleep. Elizabeth eased herself toward the edge of the bed, moving slow so Hobbs hopefully wouldn't notice. It was too much to hope he'd already passed out, wasn't it? As soon as her feet touched the floor and she got up, she'd find the Fed ready and waiting like he already knew.

"You still awake?"

He did know, didn't he?

"Mm. I'm going to go sleep on the couch."

"If Sam being around is a problem..."

There was no mistaking the underlying warning in Luke's voice. The tone that said to tread very carefully, and no doubt his wariness came from past experiences. Not that this was in any way on par with whatever relationships or flings Hobbs had been in over the past decade, or her, and that was honestly part of the problem right there.

"It isn't. I—I don't have experience with dads and kids." She closed her eyes, struggling to find the right words. Everything came second to his daughter. She understood that perfectly well, and frankly Elizabeth had no issue with that. Constantly being relegated to third, fourth, or fifth-wheel status, was something she'd forced herself to embrace after a lifetime of it. "I don't know where the lines are, how to act or..."

"So it's not a jealousy thing?"

"No. God, don't tell me women get jealous because they aren't the most important person in your life."

"It's happened once or twice."

"That explains why you're still single."

Hobbs chuckled. "What's your excuse?"

"I don't like people."

If either of them spoke after that, Elizabeth didn't notice. She yawned, settled against the pillows, and felt her head grow heavy. Sleep came quickly after that, then almost as quickly there was sunlight pouring through the window and voices outside.

Voices she didn't recognize apart from Hobbs and the kid. Elizabeth groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes to block out the glaring morning sun, and slowly eased herself up to a sitting position. A quick shove and she was on her feet, walking casually out of Luke's bedroom like nothing had happened.

"Can we, Dad? Please? After breakfast?"

"How about we let them get settled in and then we'll talk about it?"

Them? Jesus. Hobbs' brothers were here, weren't they? This was about to become her worst nightmare if those two were anything like Luke. One Hobbs was bad enough, but three? Now she knew how he probably felt being surrounded by five Shaws.

"You and I need to talk as well, woman."

Beth paused just outside his bedroom, looking toward the open plan kitchen, dining area, and living room, where Hobbs sat with an equally large and slightly younger brown guy, and a slightly shorter yet likely older brown guy. "I'm having a shower. Should be done in the thirty minutes it takes you to shuffle down this hallway, old man."

Both men had tattoos, beards, long hair, and that classic Hobbs smile. Oh yeah, there was no doubt in her mind those two were Jonah and Mateo. The only question was who was who? And were either of them as insufferable as their brother or was Luke the only one to inherit the pain in the ass gene?

"So that's your partner?" His older brother said, wearing a shit-eating grin. "I see she's got some experience in dealing with you, huh?"

As much as Elizabeth wanted to stand there and hear what Luke had to say in response, she went straight for the bathroom and showered instead. Taking her shirt off was gradually getting easier, although it didn't lessen the pain entirely. By the time she was done, her burns washed clean with soap and allowed to air, wearing a set of clothes that Luke had clearly left there in anticipation of her waking up, breakfast was ready.

The smell of hot food and coffee wafted through the house, accompanied by the sound of furniture being rearranged and Sam trying to decide who she wanted to sit next to. When Elizabeth finally walked into the open space, Luke and his younger brother were standing in the kitchen arguing about something in that way only siblings could.

"Mateo." Well, that answered that question. "Sit down. We ain't kids anymore."

"Stop being a polo head." Mateo was just as tall and built as the Fed. His voice was deeper, though, and rougher; he also looked like the kind of guy no one would ever willingly mess with if they were smart. "You know how this works, man."

She yawned, walked up to the kitchen counter and took one of two plates stacked high with pancakes. Elizabeth carried it to the dining table then went back for the full coffee pot and eggs, not saying a word to either of them while Luke stood there being the world's biggest hypocrite. The man had spent the last month complaining about her being a pain in the ass and now here he was doing the exact same thing.

What a surprise.

"So do you. You're my—"

Luke suddenly looked down as Elizabeth grabbed the last plate of pancakes, finally noticing she was there. He sighed and turned around to grab the maple syrup, only for Mateo to naturally get there first. There really was no convincing his brother that despite them being related he was still a guest in Luke's house, was there? On any other day, he would have accepted the help, but something about waking up this morning in bed with Sam, with her, had gotten under his skin.

Last night, it hadn't felt like a mistake...up until the moment it did.

He was supposed to be protecting himself, protecting Sam, but for whatever stupid reason, Luke was allowing someone to walk all over his boundaries as if they didn't exist. Hell, he'd practically rolled out the welcome mat for Elizabeth. All because what, Luke had a single fucking moment of weakness? One bad month that meant he needed someone to lean on more than ever? He glanced over at the table, at the woman standing near it who would've killed him four years ago if only he'd been a few seconds slower, and frowned before walking out of the kitchen and down to the bathroom.

Footsteps sounded behind him like someone was coming down the hall, then they faded into nothing. A moment later, he could hear Jonah asking Sam how many pancakes she wanted while Mateo organized coffee. The tension was gone, no doubt, along with the woman who'd slipped into both his bed and his dreams. The woman who still wanted to kill him.

He'd never held any delusions that things would change between them, Luke thought, yet it would've been nice if—after everything they'd been through—she at least abandoned her need for revenge. Her utterly pointless desire for it because there wasn't a goddamn chance Elizabeth would ever come that close to taking him out again.

Luke washed up, clearing his head in the process, then sat himself down next to Sam. Jonah sat opposite her and Mateo beside her, looking almost like they didn't believe his daughter could fit all that food. Clearly, they'd forgotten who she took after in the appetite department.

"I guess you finally learned to cook, eh?" Jonah said. "You stop burning the talo?"

"Yes, I—That was one time. I was fifteen, and I overcooked it. It wasn't burned."

Mateo laughed between bites of bacon. "Sure, it wasn't. It just looked like a lump of charcoal."

The light in Sam's eyes, the happiness she practically vibrated with, said it all. His daughter needed this. She needed her family if she was going to heal and not turn into some bitter, angry, vengeful...Shaw. After all, if one single night could do that to someone, how might weeks affect Sam?

"Dad?"

"Mm?"

"Can we go swimming? Please?"

"After breakfast," Luke finally conceded. Sam had been hinting at it all morning ever since Jonah walked in and mentioned the river looked nice. "Not before."

"Yes! Thank you!"

Hobbs really had cleared the place out expecting this plan of his to last longer than a single night, hadn't he? At least the asshole failed to take the loaf of bread stored in the microwave or the peanut butter she stashed in a bag thinking that Luke could use it instead of her. By some miracle, the appliances and kitchen sink all remained in place.

As did the heavy lump of regret inside her that'd grown in the hour since Elizabeth walked out.

Even now, she could practically still smell the bacon, the pancakes, the shirtless asshole she was supposed to...

But it wasn't her house, or her family. It wasn't her place either. Elizabeth wasn't meant to be there, acting like all this was fine and dandy, and deluding herself that if she just closed her eyes, everything would be different. Too bad the walking reminder of her past, present, and future, was thirty feet away, probably sitting on the couch watching TV.

Toast and plain water in hand, she finally helped herself to the couch. Pain flared through her exposed shoulder as it made contact with the cushions, causing her grip on the glass to tighten. Fuck, why hadn't she dressed it herself? Why had she walked out instead of grabbing the first aid kit and asking Hobbs to help with the gauze so she wouldn't end up tearing her own skin off?

And why was she still sitting there instead of walking toward the highway, hitching a ride, and hopping the next plane to Yakutsk? No one would find her in the Sakha Republic, least of all no one would expect to. Maybe she'd even finally meet someone, settle down, have a few kids, and spend the rest of her life in a frozen—

Hurried footsteps sounded outside, followed by the door opening. Elizabeth dropped the plate and glass instinctively, pulling out the knife she'd stashed yesterday between the couch cushions and gripping it tight. No hello, no knock, which meant it wasn't Hobbs or his kid, and that spelled trouble.

A whole lot of trouble as Deckard said, "Mum wants you at breakfast. Let's go."

"Sod off."

"So that's a no?"

Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet, knife visible in her right hand, and forced herself to look at the asshole standing inside her doorway. Deckard was calm, casual, acting like bygones were bygones or something, as if he hadn't been ready to burn her at the stake a week ago.

"That's a no," she said, "and if you or Owen ever touch me again, I'll kill both of you."

His lips pressed together, jaw clenched, and there it was in his soulless hazel eyes—a flicker of the real Deckard. The murderous, raging, vengeance-obsessed monster that lived inside him. The one he kept hidden until he decided he was done playing nice, or until he chose to trash a hospital, a city, and almost kill a woman who had absolutely nothing to do with what had happened to their brother.

Deckard kept his gaze fixed on her, though there was no doubt in Elizabeth's mind that he'd clocked the knife the moment she stood up. Now, he was watching her shoulders. Waiting to see the slightest twitch that would suggest she was going to throw it at him instead of on the couch. Instead, Beth sat back down and waited.

Waited for who she'd caught a glimpse of over his shoulder. With legs as long as Luke's, it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for him to...

...walk in some other direction, apparently.

"You can close the door behind you," she said, picking up her plate from the couch. The water had spilled everywhere, but at least her last piece of legume paste-slathered bread was intact despite being slightly soggy in one corner. "Tell your mother we're done."

"Beth."

"Be happy. You're getting what you want, right?"

"What the fuck is your problem?"

"You had one job—protect our family, but you couldn't even do that. Now we're all stuck here paying the price because you can't kill a woman who's standing right in front of you."

"Like you?"

"Get out."

Deckard did. He walked out onto the porch, then he glared over his shoulder at her. "You've got two days to pack your shit and leave. And stay away from Hobbs while you're at it. You've caused him enough..."

Enough what? It was Deckard who'd failed to kill Cipher and prevent all this. Deckard who failed to stop Owen from getting involved with Cipher in the first place. Now she and Hobbs were the ones who'd get the job done and put an end to this nightmare. Toretto and the others could race around in their little Matchbox cars, enjoy their free holiday, while the two of them hunted Cipher down.

Elizabeth looked up, expecting Deckard to finish his sentence and maybe glare some more. Instead, there were heavy footsteps, and then a tall, familiar asshole was looming over her brother with what looked like a comically sized rectangular plastic suitcase in hand. It was five feet long, maybe two wide, with the handle on the lengthy vertical side. Luke didn't say a word as he side-stepped Deckard and took up the entire doorway, lifting the case like she was somehow meant to know what it was.

"My brothers have Sam for an hour. I've got you. Grab your shoes and let's go."

"Care to tell me what the sniper rifle's for?" asked Deckard.

Sniper—

Oh.

Hobbs was going straight from A to Z and skipping everything in-between, wasn't he? Elizabeth stood, left the remains of her breakfast on the couch, and got her socks and running shoes on. Luke turned his body sideways, leaving just enough space for her to slip past him and step onto the porch. He straightened himself out again then held the rifle case up towards her almost expectantly.

"Do I look like your maid?"

Luke chuckled. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

She scowled but took the case without complaint, keeping all her attention fixed on Hobbs. Not once did she glance at Deckard or so much as pay him lip service. Elizabeth hadn't been lying when she said they were done. Him, Owen, Magdalene—whatever relationship they once had was officially over. Hattie was on thin ice, for all intents and purposes, but the second she and her sister were put in the same room together, all would be forgiven. No matter how many years passed, Hattie was still Elizabeth's pressure point; the weak point that left her more vulnerable than ever.

The only person who could stop her in her tracks, even after she went off the deep end.

Once they were away from the house, Elizabeth glanced up at Luke as that now even larger lump of regret embedded itself in the pit of her stomach. Where the hell were they going? With the case, with whatever last night was, with all of it? This entire thing was supposed to be simple and uncomplicated, but one bad decision on the plane and now she was in his bed. Letting him drag her around like some puppet on strings? Allowing Hobbs to put his hands on her and acting as if everything was normal?

"You didn't stay for breakfast."

"No."

He rested his hand on the small of her back as they walked, keeping his eyes forward. Luke had schooled his facial expression into something approximating neutrality, keeping his voice flat and low so no one looking at them could read into anything they saw. "Is the problem the company?"

"You know it's not."

"So, why'd you leave?"

"Feels like I'm intruding."

If Hobbs was an idiot, she had to be an absolute fucking moron. Talking to him? Working with him? None of it should've been this easy, yet all he had to do was poke her and everything came tumbling out. Poke her again and she'd be ready to stand back-to-back with him in a fight. The worst part of all this was it felt completely natural too. Much as she despised Hobbs for what he'd done in the past, there was no one here who she just clicked with. It was like they were two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, working in tandem, up until she remembered who he was.

"By being there?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Luke said, exhaling. He took the case back and lifted it up onto his right shoulder, leading Elizabeth toward the shooting range. "Feels like I'm not doing my job properly."

"As a Fed?"

"Father." He swallowed and looked away, like there was a lump in his throat. "If we were dating, you wouldn't have met Sam for two or three months. I don't let anyone get close to her unless I know they're going to stick around."

"Makes sense. You want me to pack my bags later?"

"No." There was a flash of something in Luke's eyes as he turned his head back around and stared at her. Anger? Surprise? Irritation? Whatever it was, he hid it fast. "Just...stay. Stay, and if you feel the need to leave, pace the fucking hallway or something."

"Okay."

His hand didn't move the entire time until they got close enough to what looked like a smaller barn adjacent to the main one, then Luke was pulling the wooden door open and grabbing two sets of earmuffs. Cipher could avoid being stabbed or blown up, but a bullet at five hundred yards was significantly harder to dodge. As much control as she tried to maintain over every single vantage point, there was inevitably going to be holes in the psychopath's security.

The hour was spent just learning how to hold the rifle, the differences between it and a pistol, and what each dial was for. No shooting, no trying to gauge if Elizabeth was remotely decent at judging distance or not. That could wait until later tonight, Hobbs said, after he grabbed some gear and measured out five hundred yards precisely. He wasn't going to miss a single chance to bury Cipher and end things, not even if the Devil was snapping at his heels.

"So," Luke said, once they'd left the barn and the sniper rifle behind, "you like swimming?"

Chapter Text

"Beth."

They weren't supposed to be doing this. Laying there like the world didn't exist and Cipher wasn't breathing down their necks. Acting as if nothing had changed even though just about everything was different now.

"What?"

Hobbs was stretched out next to her, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. His brothers had gone to help the Shaws work on their cars, apparently, and Sam wanted to see Hattie. The Fed had said something about her being his daughter's favorite of the Shaw siblings. No surprise there when Hattie was the most likeable of the three, and also the least likely to send a bomb to your house.

"Above board. You sure you want to keep it that way?"

"It's simpler."

"Less fun too."

Jesus. Why didn't he just say it? He wanted the bitch from Hell, yet here Hobbs was still tiptoeing around the issue like they hadn't all but screwed each other in the hotel. What part of kneeling at his feet, his groin inches from her mouth, suggested to Luke that he needed to walk on eggshells anymore? "You're a big boy, Fed. Use your words. If you want to kiss—"

"Do you?"

This wasn't about her and what she wanted. It hadn't been in well over two weeks, or maybe he'd already forgotten his own daughter's kidnapping. Every plan had been thrown out the window the moment she heard that scared voice in the cargo hold, never mind the second she saw the look in his eyes that said Hobbs would do whatever it took to get Sam back. As much as it pained her, as desperately as Elizabeth had wanted for this nightmare to end quickly, any chance of her walking away had ceased to exist after Cipher did the unforgivable.

She turned her head to look at Hobbs. He was flat on his back, staring up at the leafy branches stretched over them, with his hands resting on his stomach. His rough, strong, safe hands that left her aching for more because God, it felt so fucking good just to be touched.

Forty-eight months in Cuba, eighteen of them spent locked up in prison, had left a gaping void inside her. Now Hobbs was her partner, not her captor, and she was allowing a pair of hands that once caused her pain to hold her instead.

Talking to someone at night who actually talked back? It was...nice. Not staring at the walls while she counted the seconds in her head and prayed God would hit the fast-forward button on her life was nice too.

Even the best part of being on the plane had been having people to fill the space and the silence. Because if it wasn't Hobbs she could hear then it was Jakob or Cipher, and all that noise temporarily shrank the void within her.

Yet not one of them made her feel less alone like he did.

And fuck, she missed not being alone.

"I—"

Coffees and breakfasts in bed, talking over meals, was the closest she'd come to having company in a long time. All those lazy afternoons drinking beer in the cargo hold, watching Hobbs work out in the armory, reminded her of something she hadn't had in years too. Even last night, sharing that bed, and laying here together now, reminded her of all the things she'd lost by ending up in that prison cell.

Everything she should have had by now.

Except Elizabeth didn't, no thanks to Hobbs himself ripping her world apart and bringing it crashing down around her. He'd cost her everything, left her to rot in Hell, and never looked back. So why did she want more? More of this. More of him touching her. Putting his hands on her body like they belonged there. Kissing her, sitting her on his lap, pretending that the past didn't exist.

That he wasn't the only thing holding her together.

Luke had saved her life four years ago when he came barging in that cold night in Moscow, and he'd done it again two weeks ago whether he knew it or not. If Hobbs hadn't stepped on that plane, if there'd been nothing to hold her back, God only knew what she would've done.

Or who she would have become.

"Yes." They'd agreed to full transparency, and that was exactly what Luke would get whether he liked it or not. What was the point in lying to him anyway? He'd see it in her eyes or notice some other tell that would make him aware she was full of shit. "But I don't want you. I want this," she gestured vaguely, as if it would clarify her point, "all of this. Just not—"

He rolled onto his side, grunting as Luke adjusted himself and propped his head in his hand. "I didn't ask if you want me, and for the record, I don't want you either...but I like this. I'm enjoying this."

Beth's eyebrows furrowed, head spinning a mile a minute while she tried to make sense of what he was saying. How could he possibly be finding any of this enjoyable? For crying out loud, the only reason they weren't at each other's throats was because Cipher had kidnapped his daughter.

"So, what do you want?"

"We're not talking about me."

"We're not deflecting either. Answer the question."

Hobbs chuckled. This right here was what he wanted. No having to guess what Elizabeth meant, no tiptoeing around the issue. When there was a problem, she laid it at his feet. It was oddly refreshing to be with someone as blunt as her, even if he had instigated it by telling Shaw that it was transparency or bust. "This. I want more of this...and more of what I saw the other morning."

"In other words, you want a girlfriend."

A committed relationship at his age? Maybe one day, but Luke wasn't actively looking for romance anymore. He'd been in love, engaged, married, divorced, and that was plenty enough for now. Hook-ups and one-night stands weren't off the table, but long term sure was. Sam was his sole focus these days, especially with middle school coming up, and then soon there'd be high school, with college and an empty house following on its heels.

"No."

"An affair?"

"No."

"Indulgence? Liaison?"

"Again, no."

"Fling? Hookup? Entanglement? Come on, Hobbs, you're going to have to work with me here. I'm running out of synonyms."

"Fun," he said. "This is fun, and that's all I want. Just this. Us. Fun."

"Fun," she repeated. The dumbfounded look on Shaw's face said she didn't understand one bit. Maybe it was the fact she'd never been married, never fallen in love and had her world turned upside down, or never experienced half of what life had to offer because she'd let herself get caught up in someone else's story instead of writing her own. "You and I have a very different definition of fun."

"So when you're laughing, that's not you having fun?"

"It's an automatic response."

"And when you smile?"

"Same thing."

Jesus. Shaw couldn't stop performing like her life depended on it, no matter who she was with, could she? The woman really had accepted being treated like a tool, pulled out and used by others when needed, then shoved back in a box once they were done. "Your therapist tell you how messed up that is?"

"All the time."

"Beth—"

"We aren't talking about me. We're talking about you and fun."

"It's not fun now I know you're putting on an act."

"Don't." The snap of her voice, the pissed-off tone, made Luke tense instinctively. He pushed himself upright, sitting with his legs outstretched, ready for a fight. "Don't fill in the blanks. You asked about me laughing, not you making me laugh."

"What's the difference?"

Elizabeth looked away, focusing her attention elsewhere while she tugged at the hem of her shirt. "With you, it's genuine."

"And when I make you smile?"

"...Also genuine."

Why did she sound so reluctant to admit that? Was it such a bad thing for her that an asshole like him could make her smile? Or was it that Shaw still didn't want to admit she was as human as the rest of them and could feel emotions too?

"Then what's your definition of fun?" 

"You're changing the subject again. Quit it."

"Woman," Luke said, getting up on his knees and moving toward her until he was able to straddle her lower legs, "you have thirty seconds to answer my question, or I'll dunk your ass in the river."

"I don't have one. Now back to you wanting more of this..."

"Us."

"You get 'us' for as long as Cipher's alive. Pick something else."

"You."

"Same deal. Try again."

"No strings."

"Luke—"

"You want to make out? We make out. One of us needs to get off? We can do that too."

"No."

"No?"

"When you say it like that, I might as well be a mail-order whore who you can ship off to prison the moment I don't put out."

Jesus. Two seconds was all it took for Elizabeth to twist it around in her head and find the absolute worst-case scenario possible in the situation. "If I ship you off to prison, I lose my partner, and I'd never mail-order you because you'd probably pop out of the box with a fucking knife and try to kill me."

She snorted and returned her attention back to him, a restrained smile curving her lips. "Shut up."

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"Alright, you can stop talking now." Beth lifted her hips off the ground and eased her pants off, then sat up and set to work on her shirt. "I'm dunking my—"

"No, you ain't."

He picked her up by the waist, securing Elizabeth against him, and all but ran straight downhill to the edge. Before Shaw could protest, Luke jumped straight in. The river was at least twenty feet deep along the edge, probably a good thirty in the middle; no broken trees or rogue branches lurked below, and the current was weaker than it looked.

In short, it was plenty safe for Sam, let alone deep enough for someone as tall as him to safely jump in.

"You do that again," Elizabeth said once they'd surfaced, "and you can sleep on the couch from now on."

"I told you I'd dunk your ass if you didn't answer my question in thirty seconds."

She floated in front of him, glaring, yet at no point did Elizabeth try to pull away. "That one was rhetorical!"

"Still a question."

"Go dunk yourself."

"You sure you want me to do that?"

"God, you really are an insufferable asshole."

Luke chuckled and brought her closer, sliding his hands down to her thighs as he did. "Yet you keep coming back for more. I can't be all that insufferable considering you're sleeping in my bed."

"I'm there for the bed, not you."

"Alright, how about we just skip the rest of this back and forth and get to the making out?"

Shaw raised her eyebrows, gaze fixed on him and scepticism written all over her face. "You want to make out in the middle of a river?"

"It's what regular people do. They go swimming, they make out, have a beer, enjoy each other's company, make out some more afterwards."

"Regular people," she said, "like you and me."

"Did you hear what I said about skipping all the verbal tennis?"

"I heard, but I still haven't decided if I want to make out with you."

"Then why don't you tell me what's holding you back?" She slowly lifted her hands out of the water, resting her arms on his shoulders, and casually checked their surroundings. He'd already done that several times without her noticing to make sure they were both alone and not being watched. As far as Luke could tell, they were in the clear. "The badge? Lack of trust? Deckard?"

"...You saw that, huh?"

"Heard it all too."

"You plan on saying anything to him?"

The Deckard thing was her business, not his. Until Elizabeth indicated she wanted him to get involved, Luke was staying out of it. That drama was strictly between her and the Shaws for now, or up until the moment someone crossed the line. "No."

"Okay."

"Elle."

"You said you want the bitch from hell. Now you want this. Us. I don't think you realize the kind of trouble you're asking for."

Trouble? The woman was a Shaw. A goddamn nightmare. What kind of trouble could be so great that even she was reluctant to act? "Look me in the eye and tell me you're pussyfooting around the issue because you've suddenly decided to give a shit what people think."

"I'm not."

"Then take what you want."

"Doing that comes with consequences."

"I can deal with those."

Elizabeth's fingers grazed the back of his neck while he held her in place. It was plain as day how much she wanted this, how much she wanted him, as if her legs squeezing his waist didn't give it away. Never mind the hitch in her breath, the way her pupils were blown wide with need, or the fact she still wouldn't walk away.

"...No one ever finds out about this."

"Fine. Now stop running your—"

Her mouth slanted over his, lips as sweet and wicked as they had been a week ago. He kissed her back without hesitation, moving his right hand to the base of her head beneath all that dark hair, and held her. Luke didn't need to ask if she was enjoying it, if she wanted more, or just how much she needed it

Those eager moans, how Shaw dropped her arms to grip his ass and pull him closer, told him everything. "Luke." God, even the way she said his name was laced with desire. "Fuck."

"I thought you didn't want to."

"Stop being a smartass."

"Guess you like me now, huh?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

She pulled back a moment later, staring at him intently as if to say don't tempt me, then lowered her legs and let go. After pushing his hands off, Beth swam for the riverbank. Luke turned to watch her rise out of the water, rivulets sluicing down her body, and walk straight to the tree they'd been sitting under. She sat down on the picnic blanket spread out beneath it then crooked her finger at him expectantly.

Well, that was as clear a message as any.

Luke followed her out a second later and helped himself to the space beside Elizabeth, sprawling out, only for her to straddle him just like he'd done to her. She leaned down and kissed him again, angling his head back with one hand while her other trailed down his chest.

"You sure you can handle what comes after this?"

Had Elizabeth forgotten who he was? What Luke was capable of? Life could throw whatever it wanted his way, and he would take on all of it. "I handle you, don't I? And you are far more trouble than you know."

Those fingers of hers danced along the waistband of his shorts, like she was waiting to see his reaction. Testing the waters to see how far this would go or if he'd tell her to stop. He wouldn't. They'd already gone this far—why not just cross the damn line already and stop toeing it altogether?

"Alright, you can stop talking now."

"I think you already know how this conversation goes."

"If you insist."

Elizabeth kissed him once more then slid her hand down under his shorts, watching his reaction the entire time. She didn't look away as he lifted his hips to urge her on and let out a quiet groan.  The woman who'd once threatened to maim him, who had a vested interest in his death, now had her fingers wrapped around his dick. Each movement of her hand was torturously slow and left him tipping his head back, wishing she'd do more than just touch him.

"So, this is all it takes to shut you up, huh?" Slowly, Beth moved her mouth from his lips to his chest before she kissed a trail along the length of his sternum, all the way down to his waistband, stroking him the whole time. Luke gripped the blanket, bunching it in his hands, and lifted his ass higher. "I should've done this sooner if I knew it had that effect on you."

"You wish you were that lucky," he chuckled. "I'm just—"

God. She curled her fingers, seeming to touch him in five different places at once as Elizabeth lifted her head like she wanted to see his reaction. Or maybe she was waiting for him to notice what was possibly the most arrogant smirk he'd ever seen on her face.

"—getting started," she said, finishing his sentence for him.

"Beth." That smirk dissolved into unapologetic desire as she pushed his shorts down, revealing just how hard he was. Elizabeth wet her lips in anticipation, eyes dark and mouth parted, gaze shifting between his dick and face before, finally, she licked a line from the base of him to his crown. "Oh, fuck."

Instinctively, Luke reached down to touch the back of her neck beneath all that hair. She immediately shifted her attention to his thighs and kissed them slow, flicking her tongue over his bare skin. Torturing him by delaying the inevitable. Every movement was designed to draw this out, to remind him it was her doing this, wasn't it? To show him that the woman who'd once tried to kill him was capable of both condemning him to Hell and sending him straight to Heaven.

"Don't stop," he groaned. "God, Beth, don't stop."

Her mouth brushed against his shaft once more, then she touched, tasted, stroked and teased him, until his entire world narrowed down to just them. To the heat of her mouth—that sweet, sinful mouth that clearly didn't stop running unless there was something in it.

"Lower. Move your...Fuck, yes, right there."

Even the clock ticking down in his mind was pushed aside while the woman on her knees—his woman—made him tremble like he was a goddamn virgin. Her quiet moans fueled his own and those eager, sloppy noises drove Luke to the brink. Elizabeth backed off each time he started to twitch, almost as if she was reading his body's responses. Learning his reactions and using them against him to make two minutes stretch into eternity.

"Shit," Luke groaned. "Keep this up, I'm gonna fill your mouth."

"You're close?"

Those hungry eyes stared up at him, her lips dripping wet, as he said, "You know I am."

A betting man would've said Beth was going to walk away, but a smart man knew she wouldn't. This wasn't just about getting off—it was a power trip. She was the one making him feel so good, making him moan, reducing a grown man to a shaking mess. Elizabeth was in control now and she'd be damned if she handed over the reins.

"Then I guess you better put your dick back where it belongs."

"Beth."

"In." She wrapped her lips around his crown, surrounding the tip of him with wet warmth. "My." That tongue teased his slit and made his hips jack up. "Mouth."

Slowly but surely, Elizabeth angled her head to take him deeper until Luke felt himself bump the back of her throat. He slid his hand up and rested it on the back of her head, careful not to get his fingers caught in her hair. Beth worked every inch of what she could fit in her mouth while her left hand took care of the rest.

"Think I'm going to be putting it where it belongs a whole lot more often from now on."

"Don't get used to it, old man."

He could feel her mouth squeeze him as she spoke, her tongue flicking against him too. Every ministration made his body ache for release, and those fingers stroking his taint rapidly pushed Luke as close to the edge as he could go without—

"Elle." That mouth and those hands suddenly stilled, stopping him from going any further. His dick throbbed with the urge to unload himself in her mouth, but the look of sheer bliss on Elizabeth's face held him back. "Shit, you look so fucking beautiful like that. Makes me want to turn you around and park that pussy on my face."

Her thighs pressed together as Elizabeth moaned, lifting her ass like she was soaking wet and practically offering herself to him. She was getting aroused from this alone, wasn't she? Aching for him and holding herself up while she dripped with honey, throbbing for a man she wasn't supposed to touch.

"Is that what you want? An old man putting his tongue between your legs? You want to ride me until I make you scream?"

"Luke." She suddenly curled her arms around his upper legs and gripped his thighs, pulling them apart like she was working out on a pec deck machine. Elizabeth dug her fingers in, and he felt himself sink deeper into her mouth, all that pressure and pleasure building inside him until his legs trembled from the effort of holding back. "Shut up and come for me."

Her words were like a trigger that made the dam within him burst. Luke erupted, painting that mouth of hers white. Cum started to spill out between Elizabeth's mouth and his shaft, coating her lips. He felt her swallow most of it, then that tongue of hers began moving again, cleaning him off. Luke shuddered as Elizabeth let him slip free from her mouth and proceeded to lap up every drop, licking her own cum-stained lips as well.

Fuck, she was too beautiful for her own good. Kneeling there between his legs, looking like she was in heaven? A man could get used to a sight like that. "Beth," he panted, letting his hips drop to the ground as Elizabeth sat upright. "We—"

"—can talk later." She seated herself on his lap and kissed him, arms coming to rest on his shoulders. "Unless you want to try and explain why you're tanning your balls."

"We've still got two minutes." Luke gripped the back of her neck, gentle but firm, as Elizabeth stared at him. "So now you are going to sit here and shut up."

"Sod..."

Speech faded into soft, eager moans as Luke kissed her back, slipping his other hand between their bodies to find her core. He pushed Elizabeth's underwear aside and sank his long fingers into her soaked pussy, alternating between crooking his fingers to find and stroke her g-spot, and moving his thumb up to tease her clit.

"Yes," she whimpered into his mouth, rocking her hips to ride his hand. "Deeper."

"Look at you. Can't be much of a criminal if a Fed can make you moan like this."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, you will, Princess." Luke increased his pace, focusing all his attention on her g-spot. Elizabeth clawed at his back, kissing him desperately, matching his pace with her hips until her walls began to grip his fingers. "You'll fuck me so hard the only name you'll remember is mine."

"Luke."

"That's what I want to hear."

"Harder."

"Close?"

"Yes."

Good. Without another second wasted, he flipped them over, settling Elizabeth on the blanket. Luke seized and tore her underwear at the gusset, letting it drop down out of the way to leave her completely exposed. Before Shaw could protest, he was on her like a starving man at a buffet, devouring her until Elizabeth was clawing at his head and grinding against his face.

"Fuck. Hobbs," she gasped out. "Gonna—"

Those hips of hers suddenly bucked, pressing her delicious warmth against his face as she came.

Juices gushed against his tongue, running down his chin with each shudder and jerk of her body. Elizabeth moaned quietly when Luke began to lap up the juices that coated her lips; all that sweet, sticky arousal and glistening wetness left him hard in anticipation of round two. He looked up from between her legs and watched her chest heave, hands still clutching at him like Elizabeth didn't want to let go. Her eyes were almost glazed over with bliss while her mouth moved like she wanted to speak but didn't quite know what to say.

"Happy?"

"Mm. C'mere." Luke moved his way back up her body, letting Elizabeth tug him close before she kissed him. No hesitation, no reluctance—Beth wrapped her arms around his waist, tasting herself on his lips and holding him against her. "Not done with you yet, handsome."

"Like me now, don't you?" Luke taunted, earning a nip at his bottom lip. He kissed her until the timer in his head reached zero, then reached for his shorts beside her. "And all it took was a single orgasm."

Elizabeth grabbed her own pants and pulled them close, frowning at her ripped underwear all the while. "I think you know it's going to take a lot more than making me come before I ever get close to liking you."

"That was a rhetorical rhetorical question," he said, giving her one last kiss before Luke moved to sit next to her and tug his shorts on. "You didn't have to answer that one."

Hobbs grabbed his pants and tank top and dressed as quickly as he could. While he did that, Elizabeth walked down to the river, soaking her pants in it before she sat down and pulled them on. Clearly, she already had a cover in mind that would easily hold up to scrutiny. No doubt he was to be the asshole who'd tossed her in the river. Something he'd technically done so there'd at least be no issue keeping their stories straight.

"And that was a one-time deal," she said, returning to the tree as he packed up the cooler and blanket. "You needed to get off, I needed to scratch an itch. If you ever tell anyone I—"

"Oh, that was not a one-time deal."

Elizabeth tensed until he stood up and handed her the blanket. That gaze came to focus on him; her eyebrows furrowed as if she didn't know what was coming next. "Maybe you've forgotten how sex works," she said, "but you don't get to argue with me about how often your dick ends up in my mouth."

"I'm not."

Right on cue, she did that tiny head tilt, studying him like if she stared long enough, Shaw might read his mind. Of course she couldn't. Elizabeth was an open book to him, but that trick didn't work both ways. "You're not."

"If Sam sleeps in her room and all goes well tonight," Luke said, dropping his voice low and bringing his mouth close to Shaw's ear, "I will make you a very happy woman."

"You're going to give me Toretto's corpse in a pine box?"

God, she just couldn't help herself, could she? It was too much to ask that Elizabeth not actively plot how to kill Dom—or wish for his death—like she was writing a letter to Santa, wasn't it? Luke grasped her left shoulder and turned her in the direction of their house, gesturing with the cooler. "Shut your mouth and start walking."

"Oh, by the way, you've got some—"

"What?"

"There's still some me on your face. And try not to look like you just got laid. Right now, you're practically glowing."

Luke snorted in derision and lifted the cooler up onto his shoulder. "I'm not glowing."

"You look a lot happier than you did ten minutes ago."

"No, I don't."

"Hmm," Elizabeth said, following him toward home, "yes, you do."

"Beth, what did I just tell you?"

"Something about you making me a very happy woman."

"You keep running that mouth, I'll be a very happy man instead."

"Oh, I wasn't kidding about the one-time deal. Me getting you off like that? That's never going to happen aga—"

"Dad!"

"Hey, baby." Luke gave a wave as Sam came running toward them. "Let me go clean off and I'll be there in ten, okay?"

"But you're..." His daughter looked at Elizabeth, her hair wet and clinging to her skin, clothes soaked, then let out a giggle. "Dad threw you in, didn't he?"

"Yep."

"Are you gonna kill him?"

Elizabeth glanced at him like she didn't know how to respond, then she shrugged and said, "You want to help?"

"Yeah! Hattie knows how to build bombs. We could ask her to make one. Have you met Hattie yet? She's Deckard's sister and she's a spy. Hattie even kicked Dad's ass once, but he likes to pretend it didn't happen."

"Young lady," Luke cleared his throat, "watch that mouth or there's no pai fala for dessert."

"You made pai fala?!"

"Uncle Jonah did. If you want a slice, you'd better behave."

Sam hugged him, only to turn her head and wink at Elizabeth. "Can you wait until after dessert to kill him?"

"Sure. I need to wash the river off first anyway."

"Alright, baby, we'll be there in ten. I love you."

"I love you too, Dad."

Luke waited until Sam was well out of earshot, practically back at the barn, before he said, "She doesn't know you're a Shaw yet. Didn't think it was my place to tell her."

"Oh, she knows. She's just playing dumb."

"Sam—"

"Magdalene called me their sister last night when Sam was right there at the table. Same thing when your friend in the car called me Miss Shaw. I think your kid knows by now, Hobbs. Hell, she's probably heard a whole lot more than she lets on too. People talk when they think no one's listening and a nine-year-old girl might as well be invisible."

"She's not playing dumb," Luke said as they walked back to the house.

"Fifty bucks says you're wrong."

"I'm not putting a bet on my—"

"You know what?" Elizabeth eased her shirt off and dumped it on the porch then tugged her pants off. "Make it five hundred thousand."

"Beth."

"If you're right, I'll put half a million in an offshore account. Sam won't owe a cent when she goes to whatever fancy college she chooses. You taking that bet or not?"

"And if she is playing dumb?"

"You help me steal Cipher's money and we call it even."

"...Half a million."

"No tax, five percent interest. It'll be three quarters of a million by the time she finishes high school."

Luke shook his head in disbelief. What the hell was he doing? Elizabeth was leading him around like she had him on a fucking leash and not vice versa. Now he was making bets on his own daughter. Jesus. When he finally went home, he was going to have to get his mom to slap some sense back into his brain because Elizabeth had clearly stolen it all when she got on her knees and took all the common sense from his body too.

"Fine." He peeled off his shirt and hung it over the porch railing. "You've got yourself a bet. Any ideas for how you're going to get the truth out of my daughter?"

"One or two."

"Care to share them with the class?"

"You just wait and see."

Chapter Text

It was almost midnight when Letty woke up and found herself alone in bed for the third night in a row. She already knew where Dom would be without having to think about it, and the truth was, Letty couldn't blame him. Everyone was trying to deal with the situation at hand the best they could, so if that meant he went to another woman's house and stayed there the night, so be it.

Anyway, it wasn't like she was jealous.

Fifteen years ago, Letty might have found herself seething and ready to knock someone out at the thought of him having a chick on the side. Now, thankfully, she was mature enough to understand Elena Neves was not simply some chick.

She was the mother of his child.

Their child.

Letty slipped on a pair of flip-flops and walked outside, ready to head across to Elena's house, but something made her pause. Voices. Hobbs...and Dom?

Okay. Clearly, he wasn't at Elena's like usual.

The idea of going over there, taking Dom's hand, and hauling him back to their bed passed through her mind. Letty quashed it in an instant. He needed this. Socialization. Being with people who understood what Dom had gone through, who knew firsthand why his dreams weren't all rainbows and lollipops. It had been hard enough to get Dom to let his walls down when they were teenagers, especially after his dad had died, and it was even harder now.

Every time they tried to talk, really sit down and talk, he would clam up.

Dom never spoke about what it was like being on Cipher's plane, or what it felt like when he saw that photo of Elena and Marcus. Not to her, not to Brian, not anyone.

Probably not even to the padre at the church he'd begun going to once a month if Letty had to guess. There, no one knew the name Toretto; they didn't know of his family's legacy or the tragedy that'd wracked the community all those years ago. He was merely a man in a room, another face in the crowd, and for those fifteen minutes or less, Dom was free again.

"Hey." Letty strolled over casually, curling her fingers between Dom's, and wrapped her left arm around his waist. "You good, baby?"

"Can't sleep. You?"

"Same."

Hobbs was seated on a chair on the porch, ice packs sticking out between his back and the chair. What the story was there, Letty didn't know, and she wasn't about to ask either. In all honesty, she'd just about given up on trying to bring herself to care what happened to him.

When Dom had been blackmailed into working for Cipher, Hobbs was first in line to take her husband down. Now, in a twisted way, it felt like some long overdue karma had finally been dished out to the Fed by having everyone turn on him. Not that Letty would ever wish what'd happened to Sam on anyone.

Well, almost anyone.

"Like I said." Presumably picking up the conversation from where he and Dom had left it before she arrived, Hobbs pressed himself back into the seat and looked at the both of them now. "If this somehow gets dragged out for long enough, go home. We'll handle the rest."

As if this hadn't been dragged out long enough already, but maybe that was what Cipher wanted. She was waiting them out, waiting for them to give up and go back to their normal lives, then Cipher would strike at just the right moment and tear them apart if they didn't catch her, wouldn't she?

Or she'd move on...but the odds of that happening were slim to none.

What truly caught Letty's attention was something else, though.

Hobbs had said we. Plural. Who was we? Him and the Shaws? The Agency? If the Fed was willing to continue the hunt without Dom and their team, then surely he could've done so already. Did he even need them here and now or was it simply a numbers game for Hobbs and Little Nobody?

"You know it doesn't work like that."

"It does now," said Luke, continuing the conversation. "You can't have a baby here, Dom."

"Cop—"

"Those ten seconds aren't just about you anymore."

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, that truth haunted Dom like a ghost. It was just the nerves getting to him, he told himself. The fact he'd managed to skip past the hardest part of Marcus's life and gotten to jump straight into walking, crawling, and a happy infant. All the sleep deprivation, the stress, had been Elena's to bear alone...but the truth was Dom wasn't ready for it this time around.

Not the screaming, the crying, the sleepless nights and feedings, or the laps around the block while he prayed to God for their baby to sleep. It didn't matter that he'd helped raise Mia, that Dom had since stepped up to the plate with Marcus, because nothing could truly prepare him for fatherhood. He grasped Letty's hand and pulled her against himself, breathing in the familiar scent of his wife; cradling her stomach like his arm was a shield between Letty, their baby, and the monsters that waited outside this place, ready to kill them if they showed a single sign of weakness.

"I—"

I know, Dom was about to say, but the door creaked. Hobbs' head jerked up, his attention drawn to it immediately, moving like he was about to stand up and greet whoever it was. Instead, he sat back in his chair as the door opened and Sam stepped out, walking straight to him. She climbed onto his lap, buried her face in his chest and hugged him tight.

"Hey," Luke murmured. "Can't sleep?"

Sam shook her head. "It's too dark."

"You want to lay on the couch and watch TV?"

"No."

"Okay."

That would be him one day, wouldn't it? If everything went right, and if the bad days were just that, it would be Dom sitting there and cuddling his own daughter while she clung to him. He and Letty on a porch as Marcus and their little girl ran around, chasing each other. The four of them, or five if Elena was there, relaxing on a warm spring afternoon when the weather was nice and their family—

"Luke!" Hobbs' head jerked up at the sound of his name. Dom couldn't help but hear a hint of panic in the shout as an English accent called out. Hattie, huh? "Is she with you?"

"Yes."

It was good seeing the two of them together, even if Deckard didn't approve. Hobbs needed someone in his life he could lean on. All of them could see that, Mr. Nobody included, or so Letty said.

She and Ramsey had filled in the gaps in his unwanted knowledge of the Fed's extracurricular activities, gossiping like a pair of grandmothers with Hattie over breakfast the other day. Apparently, there'd been life or death stakes, a kiss, and a half-assed goodbye. In other words, none of it had gone anywhere, but there was a chance it might one day if the stars aligned.

"So, you and Hattie seem to be picking up right where you left off." Hobbs opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Shit, the Fed did have a thing for her, didn't he? Why else would he be flustered? It wasn't like Hobbs was lacking skills in the flirting department, or so Elena said. Another tidbit of information Dom had never wanted to learn but did anyway. "It's good, cop. You both deserve to be happy after what you went through."

"I...Yeah. She's a good woman."

"You and Hattie?" Sam looked up. "Really, Dad?"

Hobbs cleared his throat. "You know, it's getting late, baby. How about we try this sleep thing again?"

"We should too," Letty said, giving Dom a tug. "See you tomorrow, Hobbs?"

"Yeah. Have a good night, guys."

He nodded, standing and carrying Sam inside while the two Torettos walked away. Where the hell had Dom gotten the idea that he and Hattie were a thing? Better yet, how did Toretto even know about them?

"Are you and Hattie really together?"

"No, honey," he said, taking Sam straight to the lounge. "Your dad's not dating anyone right now. Besides, I'm too old to keep up with a woman like Hattie."

"She is your type."

Luke laughed as he laid down, stretching out and getting comfy. "You know what my type is, huh?"

"Pretty, smart, and she can kick your ass."

"Young lady, what have I told you about watching your language?"

"It's true," Sam protested, tugging his left arm over her. The interior lights were all off, but the dim light from the TV revealed the cheeky grin on his daughter's face. "Mom can hand you your butt too."

"Yeah, she can." He let out a sigh and adjusted the pillows left there from earlier. Despite what Luke told himself, there was always a part of him that wished things had worked out between him and Sasha. "Your mom is amazing like that. Okay, the TV is going off, and you, miss, are going to sleep."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we leave the TV on? Please?"

What Sam had said before about it being too dark—it wasn't an excuse, was it? She really didn't like being alone in the dark now, or the dark at all. Thank God for the trauma specialist coming tomorrow, because Luke was officially in over his head. "Sure. As long as you sleep."

She did, closing her eyes as he tightened his arms around her, holding Sam like he had so many times before. Eventually, he felt her relax, falling asleep in the one place she knew she was safe. Soon enough, Luke did too, and then before he knew it, the morning sun was filtering through the living room curtains.

Sam sat on the other couch, bowl of cereal in hand, watching her favorite cartoon about fairies or something like that. He could never quite keep up with everything that interested her these days. She looked like she'd slept, at least, which was slightly more than could be said for him. Luke had passed out, of course, but it wasn't the kind of restful sleep he needed. No, that required a much larger space and a very different bed buddy.

"Morning, Dad."

"Hey, baby. Make sure you're ready by eight, yeah?"

"I know."

Now he just had to make sure she was ready too. Lucky for him, Beth was already wide-awake, and apparently, she'd been busy. There was a gun cleaning kit spread out on the bed, a Glock in her left hand, and a sheet of paper in her other which Elizabeth was intently reading as if she had even half a clue how to pull the firearm apart.

Not once did Shaw look up and notice he was standing in the doorway. Even when he was halfway to the bed, she still didn't pay him any direct attention. The slight tilt of her head as she kept reading, however, might as well have been a submarine's radar ping that said his presence had been detected.

"How's Sam?" Elizabeth spoke first. Her eyes were fixed on the paper, but it didn't mean squat now her attention was clearly on him. "She sleep like a baby?"

It was business as usual from the get-go. No flirting, no awkward tension, no acknowledging just what the hell they'd done yesterday or who'd been outside last night. Not even a word uttered about the fear he'd heard in her voice after she undoubtedly noticed Sam's open door and empty bed.

"Yeah." Luke stretched out on his side of the bed, groaning as he worked the kinks out of his spine. "Can't say the same for myself."

"That's the price you pay for being middle-aged."

"Give it ten years and you'll be bitching about your sore back and shit knees."

She scoffed and went quiet before finding the takedown lever and pushing it into position. What came out of her mouth next was something Elizabeth didn't think he'd enjoy hearing, wasn't it? Why else bite her tongue for once instead of—

"Ten? I'll be lucky to see two." She put the paper on the bed and began to disassemble the gun, still staring at her sheet of instructions instead of him. "Won't take long for the mob to check those cameras and realize I'm alive. Clock's probably ticking already."

An idiot might have thought that Beth was fishing for sympathy. She wasn't. This was the God's honest truth. Cold, hard facts being laid out on the table as if she'd already accepted her death would come sooner rather than later.

"Ain't gonna happen." Luke watched as she oiled the barrel. Her hands were unpracticed and unsteady, but the focus was there. The attention to detail that'd no doubt kept her alive all these years. "They come for you, they die."

"That's cute. Noble. But we both know you'll choose your ass over mine."

"You think I'd let anyone touch you while you're with me?"

Elizabeth stilled. They both did. Luke hadn't meant for it to come out like that, but there it was. The bite in his voice, the undercurrent of violence in his tone, like a declaration of war.

This...This was new, even for him.

The worst part was it didn't feel like his words were coming from a place of sentiment or kindness. He wasn't consciously trying to be nice to her or anything. No, it was that fucking word in Luke's head driving them. The one that kept circling back around to the forefront of his brain every time he looked at her.

His.

His partner.

His pain in the ass.

All because Elizabeth Shaw chose to stand in his corner, and like Hell if he'd allow anyone to try and move her from it.

"Beth?" said Sam as she walked out onto the porch, her brown curls loose and falling over her shoulders. She looked almost normal now, like a girl who hadn't just gone through hell. "Have you seen my dad?"

That was the question of the year, wasn't it? Sam's appointment was supposed to be at nine o'clock. It was now eight thirty. If they were driving there, they'd need time to get wherever the hell they were going, and who knew what traffic was like in this neck of the woods.

"He's probably in the bathroom," Elizabeth said, "plucking out whatever hair grew on his head overnight."

"No," Sam said, giving her a hesitant look, as if the kid wanted to say something but wasn't sure about it. Almost like she didn't know where the boundaries were or how Beth would react, then Sam sat on the seat beside her—the one Luke had practically branded with his sweat—and slumped back. "That's his Tuesday routine. It's Thursday. He'd be polishing it with baby oil."

Elizabeth laughed before her brain even processed what her body was doing. Belly-shaking, snort-riddled laughter that soon had her smothering it with her hand, struggling to conceal the smile which threatened to break free.

Contagious laughter too, apparently, as Sam giggled beside her. Polishing his—the kid wasn't serious, was she? Luke didn't actually polish himself like a bowling ball, right? Or did he think he could blind his enemies by reflecting the sun?

"And on Saturdays, he waxes his butt."

"Samantha Aitulagi Hobbs!"

"You're late!" Luke's daughter crossed her arms over her chest, putting on her best face, but the cracks were there. They always were. As soon as Sam felt safe, she shattered. At night, she cried and tried to muffle the sound, but Elizabeth could hear her. She could even feel that sympathetic pang of heartache in her chest each and every time she saw Sam break down, choosing to pour the pain out rather than bottle it up. "It's after eight thirty."

"I know, baby." Hobbs walked out onto the porch, joining them. "I had to grab a couple things. How about you start walking to the barn and we'll meet you there?"

The barn? He wanted Sam to sit there and pour her heart out in front of every asshole in the building?

"Fine," she groaned. "You better not be late again."

"I promise I won't."

The kid stood up and took off without another word, leaving the two of them in awkward silence. Beth didn't look at him or ask what 'things' he'd grabbed. Her mind was still trying to figure out the we part of this situation. Had Hobbs meant the two of them? Or him and his brothers? Because there wasn't a chance in Hell of her sitting there in front of a stranger and whining about her problems, let alone in front of Luke or anyone else for that matter.

"So, what's for lunch? You taking Sam for pancakes?"

"Nah." Hobbs took another few steps and planted himself in front of her, but Elizabeth didn't bother looking up. Instead, she stared at the wooden railing and the grass beyond it like she'd been doing for almost an hour since getting out of the shower. "Texas barbeque. Found a place up the road. There's a table by one of the lakes we can sit at."

"Certainly sounds better than Toretto barbeque. Enjoy it."

"Oh, you will."

As if his assertion was too subtle, Luke reached down and grasped her left bicep, pulling her to her feet. He didn't ask, didn't tell her what he was doing—the Fed just squatted and strapped a holster to her right leg. All business, no pleasure, but still...she could feel his hands. His fingers pressing into her thigh, her hip, as Luke secured the gun. Professional yet also lingering. A touch here just a few seconds longer than it ought to be, or fingers digging in a little tighter, holding on more than he needed to.

"We're in an open carry state," he said. "You're carrying."

"Does that mean it's open season on my ass too?"

For once, it wasn't merely rhetoric or snark. Not in that moment. As Luke looked up, crouching there with his hands barely an inch below where her thighs met her glutes, it felt more like curiosity. She'd just asked a question only he had the answer to. An answer that might as well have been a ticking time bomb lingering between them, threatening to blow up in their faces any second now.

"You tell me."

Luke stood, slipped out a small black case from his right jacket pocket, and cracked it open. He lifted out an earpiece and transmitter, securing the latter to her waistband adjacent to the holster, then tucked her hair back behind her ear and slid an earpiece into position. The brush of his skin against hers was so brief she could've imagined it, but Elizabeth knew those rough pads.

Those fingers.

She knew every callus, every scar on his hands, like they were her own.

"...You can't do this in front of the others," she said, keeping her voice low.

His arms had been wrapped around her for the equivalent of days. His hands on her for just as long. Of course she'd learned every inch of them. Elizabeth had spent long enough staring at them, watching how Luke gripped the gun, how he never rested his finger on the trigger unless he intended to squeeze it.

"Is that an order or a suggestion?"

Yeah, Elizabeth, which one is it?

"Luke."

Who was she kidding? She didn't give a shit if he did or not. Not really. It was just easier to hide it. Pretend like nothing was happening so she wouldn't have to face the consequences, or them. As long as this thing, whatever it was, was kept out of the public eye then it wouldn't have to end. They wouldn't have to—

"Say the word and it stops," he said.

And it would. As selfish as she was, as starved as he was, everything would come to a screeching halt if Elizabeth dared to utter a single syllable. One four letter word and this desperate hunger inside of him was going to find itself buried beneath as much detached professionalism as Luke could muster.

"Do you want it to?"

It was her body, her neck on the line if anyone found out, yet Elizabeth was asking him. Looking up at him like the choice was his instead of hers. All he had to do was say yes and she'd end it, wouldn't she? A wall would slide into place between them and Shaw would never so much as glance at him sideways. No one would ever know what they'd done or that it'd happened at all. She'd never touch him again unless there was cause to. Their partnership would become a coexistence wherein they shared the same space and nothing more.

"...No."

He'd told her yesterday on the riverbank that he wanted more.

More kissing.

Touching.

Talking.

Things that made him feel like he fucking existed. That he wasn't staring through a window, watching as life passed him by and everyone else moved on. Casual flings and one-night stands were all well and good when he had an itch in his balls, but they couldn't sate his appetite for the life Luke had lost after his divorce.

"Then at least be discrete if you feel the sudden urge to grab my ass."

"You think I'm an ass man?"

"No," Elizabeth said, moving to step past him. "You're a dirty old man in need of a shag, but a handful is as close as you're going to get for the foreseeable future."

"What about breakfast?" She stopped and looked up, staring at him intently. Was she trying to gauge whether he was picking an argument? Or had the pieces already been put together in her head? "Dirty old man's gotta eat."

"Still hungry, huh?"

"Starving."

"Too bad you didn't wake up early."

Shaw walked off without another word, tucking her hands in her pockets. Was it to resist the urge to touch him? Or her suppressing the need to shove him up against a wall and kiss him? Luke watched her for a moment, letting her put some distance between them, then took off in the same direction. If they stood there any longer, Sam was likely to come back and scold both of them for being late.

"You don't have to talk," he said, once he was back within earshot of Elizabeth. "Just sit, or whatever."

"Wasn't planning to."

"But you need to."

She squared up instantly, standing up straighter and keeping her gaze focused on the barn up ahead. Just a few words and Elizabeth was ready to fight, like a caged animal that'd suddenly been backed into a corner. "Don't tell me what I fucking need."

"Beth." Luke put his hand on the small of her back and left it there as they walked, her loose shirt the only thing separating his skin from hers. Had they been anywhere but out in the open, his fingers would've already found their way to her neck so as to yank that proverbial leash. "Calm your tits."

"You strapped a loaded gun to my leg. D'you want me to use it?"

"No, I want you to bend over so I can pull out whatever just crawled up your ass."

"That would be you."

Four words. Four simple words, just him pointing out the obvious, and she was ready to rip his throat out. If that wasn't proof enough that he was right, Luke didn't know what was. "Woman."

"This is about your daughter, not me. Now let's get this morning over with so we can leave."

"Sam's not the only one talking to someone."

"Well, good for you." Elizabeth took a step to the right and looked around. "Where's the car? I'll wait there till the two of you—"

"I don't think so." He hooked the side of her pants and tugged her back toward him, wrapping his arm around her waist with no hesitation. The glare she gave him said he was on thin ice, but the way Shaw leaned against him, settling into his grip said something else entirely. She almost seemed to relax as the tension slowly left her body, though the promise of violence still lingered in her eyes. "You're coming with me. I need my emotional support bitch today."

"You know, the more times you open your mouth, the more I regret ever making that deal with you."

"Then you should've left with Jakob the other day. I gave you an out."

"I gave you my word first."

She kept saying that like it meant something. As if he could trust it, or her. Luke couldn't, but she knew that. They'd gone over it all a million times by now, surely, and honestly, he was starting to get tired of talking about it. Everything had been hashed out in the last two weeks. They both knew where the other stood. They both knew nothing mattered but Sam and the mission so why keep flogging a horse that was both dead and buried?

"Jesus." It was subtle, but Luke scanned their surroundings as they neared the barn. Hattie was on the Shaws' porch with Magdalene, Roman and Tej were carrying tools toward the two cars parked in front of their house. Dom was drinking coffee on his front steps, staring at nothing yet noticing absolutely everything. And to their left, Deckard and Owen were doing something closer to beating the ever-loving shit out of each other than sparring. "Pick a different topic. We need to find something else to talk about."

"...You genuinely want to talk? As in have a conversation? The two of us?"

"We talked on the plane."

"You talked." He would've laughed at the tortured look on her face if they weren't in public. The agony in her eyes from being in Luke's presence and having her ass hauled somewhere was clear as day. It was all an act, of course. Her breathing was steady, pulse likely elevated from the close proximity, and her shoulder rested against his side, but clearly no one was permitted to know that except him. "I listened." 

"Doesn't have to be that way now."

Elizabeth shrugged. "It's easier."

"Woman, you're not a hooker hanging off my arm. You don't need to—"

"I was a whore for three years before I went to prison. After that, I was a desk jockey and a whore before I ended up in prison again. Tell me, what do I have to talk about?"

That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? Funny how when they were at each other's throats, talking was the easiest thing in the world. Now it was like pulling teeth. If he asked about her, Elizabeth would probably say she'd read his file. Just about everything was in it, except none of it was relevant right now. It didn't tell him what her favorite color was, or what she liked doing on the weekends.

Or whether she'd ever lay on her stomach and allow herself, just once, to be completely and utterly vulnerable while he topped her.

But given she didn't trust him, the answer to that was probably a no.

"Dad!" Sam sat outside the barn on a stack of tires someone had left, swinging her legs and threatening to destabilize it. "You're walking too slow! It's almost nine. Come on."

"Ah," Luke sighed, releasing his grip on the woman beside him, "kids. Wouldn't trade her for the world, but just once I'd love to—"

"Give the starikashka some time." Shaw didn't hesitate to pull away, putting her outside arm's reach. "He's not as fast as he used to be."

He looked at her, eyebrow raised, to say what the fuck did you just call me? 

Sam, of course, took the bait without hesitation. "What's a starikashka?"

That shit-eating smirk formed on Elizabeth's face before she sprinted forward, getting to Sam in a few seconds. "An old man," she said, pressing a hand lightly to her rib cage. "A very slow old man who can't keep up anymore."

"I wouldn't listen to her, baby." Luke reached the two of them a moment later and opened the barn door, gesturing for Sam to go inside. "Beth's only saying that because she knows your dad could kick her butt in ten seconds."

Shaw scoffed and looked at Sam. Even Elizabeth could see the curiosity in his daughter's eyes, couldn't she? And instead of overstepping and trying to tell Sam what to do, instead of going inside herself, she stood there and baited his daughter instead. "He couldn't catch me in ten seconds. He's too heavy, too old, and too slow."

"He's also going to be late for an appointment," Luke said, planting his hand square on Elizabeth's ass and giving her a shove in the direction of the doorway, "unless you want to sit here all day."

"Blin." Shit. "Let's get this over with then. The sooner we get to—"

He cleared his throat before Shaw could get another word out and ruin the surprise. "Tiha. Ana nye znayet." Quiet. She doesn't know.

"Get to what?" Sam looked between them. "What are you two talking about?"

"Once this is over, we get to leave," Elizabeth said, going inside first, "and I can enjoy a blessed day of not hearing Toretto's voice."

"You really don't like Dom, do you?" said Sam, trailing in after her like Shaw was the Pied Piper.

"Kid, you have no idea."

Luke tried not to laugh as he followed behind them and shut the barn door. As true as it was, Beth didn't have to say it like that. Least of all in a tone of voice that practically invited questions which Sam would be more than happy to ask. And to no one's surprise whatsoever, that was exactly what she did.

"Why don't you like him?"

"Toretto stuck his nose where it doesn't belong. Kind of like you're doing right now."

"You want me to stop asking questions?"

"The less time you spend asking me questions, the more time you've got for—"

"You two ready?" a voice called out from the far end of the barn.

Luke called back. "Be there in a second, Holly."

Well, this explained why Pearce and Parker had their cars outside. The interior had been cleared out and overhauled with portable, likely soundproof, partitions introduced to give a semblance of privacy. Two separate 'rooms' had been set up on opposite sides of the building, decreasing the chance of anyone overhearing what was being said.

"...You called Aunt Holly?!" Sam said, jaw dropping as she looked up at him.

"It was short notice, baby. I needed someone who could get here fast and someone we trust."

"Isn't that against the rules?"

"Probably." It wasn't like he cared, and this wasn't official in any capacity. Besides, Holly was an aunt in name only. Technically, she was Chato's former sister-in-law. Someone Luke had met a dozen times or so over the years, but someone who'd made it clear that if they were important to Chato, they were important to her. In that respect, she was kind of like Elizabeth, only Holly had morals and ethics and wasn't likely to stab him in his sleep. "You want to go over and say hi? I'll be there in a second."

"Yeah."

Sam gave him the tightest hug of her life before she ran straight to Holly's side and ducked into the makeshift office. The important thing was knowing Sam felt safe enough with Holly to talk. They could skip half a dozen sessions building trust between them and get straight to dealing with Sam's demons, assuming his daughter opened up.

"Guess I'll grab a—" Elizabeth glanced toward a couch shoved against the nearby wall, about to take a step away from him when he grasped her hand. Not possessive or violent or forceful, just...holding, like she was a buoy keeping him from drowning. "—seat."

"Elle."

She looked up at him, and Luke found himself gazing into a human-shaped abyss. There was no emotion in her eyes, no expression on her face. No one to perform or pretend for, to lie to or manipulate, so the mask came off. The weight on her shoulders fell away and all of the world's expectations were discarded, allowing her to finally breathe.

"I need my partner with me," he said.

"You mean your emotional support bitch."

Luke laughed. Quietly, of course, but he still laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world, and slowly but surely the smile on his face came to be reflected on hers. Like light escaping a black hole, her eyes wrinkled as Elizabeth allowed herself to experience a shred of emotion. She chuckled and tucked her other hand into her pocket, taking a deep breath before Luke stepped forward.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her glance down at their hands, fingers interlocked, but Elizabeth didn't pull free. She shifted her attention to the room where Sam was and matched his pace instead, refusing to be dragged as if there really was a collar and leash on her. When they neared the edge of one partition wall and the entryway of the makeshift office, Luke released her hand and walked in, going straight to the couch Sam sat on.

"Hey," he said, crouching down to her level while Elizabeth remained outside, clearly refusing to intrude. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. You know that. If talking feels like too much, we can leave."

"I know." Sam leaned forward and hugged him around the neck. "It's like you say, if you bottle it up, it hurts more."

Once she let go, he sat down next to her, getting comfortable. Sam stayed in the corner, legs tucked under herself, and picked up a sketchbook she'd clearly been drawing in. The pictures were nothing dramatic, thankfully. Just a bed, a room, and...

"You can sit with Dad if you want."

Holly, sitting on a single chair opposite them, jerked her head up in surprise. Elizabeth stood near the entryway, silent, facing the way they'd came. The sidearm strapped to her right thigh was inches from her arm, hanging loosely by her side, and she was calm, relaxed, yet completely aware of everything going on around her in a way that no soldier, cop, or Fed could ever replicate.

Deckard and he could scan a room and spot trouble from a mile away, but everyone would spot them too. Their training showed in their stance, their combined 450lbs plus of muscles, and the way they soaked up their surroundings like a sponge. Eyes always shifting from one point to another, never lingering too long lest they miss something.

"I don't think I'll fit on the couch."

But Elizabeth didn't have the luxury of time. Working for the mob meant she had to walk into a room and take a single mental photo, analyzing it in seconds. Learn everything she needed to know about the men surrounding her, all while trying to keep her head above water so the sadistic pieces of shit wouldn't kill her and use her corpse for decoration.

"I can—"

She had to learn how many people were in the room, who sat where, and who was talking to who. If the men were single or married, foreigner or Russian, powerful or weak. Know which rich asshole wearing a million-dollar watch and Armani had come into his inheritance. Better yet, who the oligarch was. The 'so rich he was in a category of his own' asshole in a bespoke suit with custom-sized pockets for his cigars, because why would someone with that much money ever stoop so low as to buy pre-made?

"No. You stay there," Elizabeth said, stepping into the room. She walked straight toward him and sat on the floor, leaning back against his right leg. Her hands stayed free, left knee bent but with her foot flat on the ground in case she needed to get up again. "I'm fine here."

Holly looked at them for a few seconds, as if she noticed how he'd relaxed that little bit more now there was a second gun within reach—now his partner was within reach—then turned her attention back to Sam. "So, the dark scares you again like it did when you were little?"

"Yeah. I don't like closing the door anymore."

"Because you can't see who's on the other side when you do?"

Sam nodded, and Luke felt his heart crack. They talked like that for a while. Holly prompting Sam gently, letting her open up when she wanted to, never forcing the issue. His knee pressed into Elizabeth, like the pressure of her body against his was grounding him. Stopping him from falling to fucking pieces as his daughter talked about being scared of footsteps and shadows.

"I didn't know what they were going to do to me, or if...if I'd see Dad again. If they'd let me talk to him again. One of them said they should've gotten rid of me."

It felt like someone was prying him apart. Tearing his heart into a thousand fucking pieces. Every word out of Sam's mouth was a knife in his back, cutting through his defenses, flaying him alive, and he fucking hated it. He hated every second, every minute sitting there listening to Sam talk about men barging into Lisa's apartment. The thud of his sister's body hitting the ground. Sam not knowing if she was alive or dead.

Men grabbing her and dragging her out.

Screaming and kicking.

A needle to the neck before Sam fell unconscious.

Blaming herself for not fighting back harder. For not trying harder.

"I couldn't stop them."

As if a nine-year-old girl was capable of overpowering four grown men.

"If Dad didn't work for the DSS..."

Blaming him.

Sam was so tired. So hurt. So angry. And he couldn't blame her for hating him. She'd yelled at him so many times, begged him to quit his job. The same things Sasha had said before they divorced started coming from his daughter's mouth instead. Not knowing where he was, if he would come home in one piece, or if she was going to lose him altogether.

And God, it was so fucking easy to shoulder the blame.

If he'd quit when his ex-wife asked him to, none of this would've happened.

If he hadn't gone after Owen Shaw when that fucking file crossed his desk, Luke wouldn't be sitting here right now.

If he didn't weigh so much, it would've been him on Cipher's plane that day, and Luke would've put a bullet in the bitch's head without blinking for laying a hand on Elena.

Like he should've done on her plane, each and every time he had a chance to.

But Sam's life was on the line, and it was a no-win situation.

By the end of the session, Luke wasn't sure which way was up. His head spun, shoulders sagged, as Sam buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. He carried her back to the car, climbing in the back seat with her while Elizabeth took the wheel, hands shaking as she gripped it tight. She used the built-in GPS to figure out where they were going because Luke could barely string two sentences together. Emotionally, psychologically, even physically, he felt exhausted.

They'd gone overtime by an hour, but once Sam really started talking, everything came pouring out.

Good thing they had the rest of the day to recuperate.

"Alright," he said, climbing out of the cramped SUV and finally stretching his legs for the first time in ninety minutes. There was a small lake outside Ruckersville with a picnic table on the grass beside it. One look at the GPS and Elizabeth had found the road leading to it, parking and killing the engine to signal their journey was finally over. "Do you want to sit at the table, baby, or on the grass?"

"The table. What's for lunch?"

And just like that, everything was back to normal...or as close to normal as it'd get today.

"You'll find out soon enough."

The smell of barbeque had permeated the car, but Sam hadn't seen it. She'd fallen asleep on the way there, missing the pick-up of sixteen delicious ounces of mac 'n' cheese, three pounds of brisket, grilled chicken wings, five full racks of pork ribs, collard greens, and bacon cheese fries.

"Fine." Sam sat with the wind blowing her curls into her face no matter which way she turned, and soon gave up trying to flip them back out of her eyes. "Did we get dessert?"

"Trust me, baby," Luke said, grabbing the bags from the trunk and hauling them to the picnic table, "you won't need dessert after this."

When he looked over his shoulder, Elizabeth still sat in the front, seatbelt on, but she'd shut the door and now faced the other way. Part of him wanted to walk over there, yank the door open, and haul her ass out. Tell her to get some fresh air and enjoy the peace while it lasted. The rest knew she needed space, so he sat on the old wooden seat and prayed it wouldn't collapse beneath them.

"Barbeque?!"

"Yep, but you can't eat yet."

"Why not?"

"We gotta wait for your uncles."

Right on time, a small Nissan pulled up and his brothers climbed out. Mateo and Jonah went straight into family mode, almost squeezing the fucking life out of Sam when they hugged her. Mateo bragged about how he was going to eat everything, and Sam wouldn't get a single bite. Then his brothers took one look at him and hugged him too, saying nothing aloud because every word they could've said was written in their eyes.

"How about we cook you breakfast, eh?" said Jonah as he sat next to Mateo, and Luke prayed yet again the table wouldn't collapse beneath them. "Tomorrow, you come over to our place and we'll take care of everything."

"Can we, Dad?"

"Sure," he said, and looked back over his shoulder as the car door finally opened yet again. Elizabeth walked over, sat down next to Mateo, and crossed herself. Three fingers pressed together and touched to the center of her forehead, to her abdomen below the ribcage, to her right shoulder, left, then right and left again two more times. Her lips barely moved, but Luke knew what she would be saying: God bless and protect. "Now we're all here, Jonah, you want first bite?"

"I think Sam has that covered," Mateo chuckled.

Miss Mac 'n' Cheese-face looked up at him, innocent, with a fork still hanging out of her mouth. Luke shook his head and took the container of macaroni before it all mysteriously disappeared. "Alright, who wants wings?"

Sam was out like a light by eight thirty. Her door sat open and a small TV in her room played with the volume set to low, illuminating everything. There were no monsters, no one to take her away or hurt her because she was home now.

Safe.

And he'd be damned if Luke allowed anyone to ever lay a hand on Sam again.

Yet for him, there was no safety. No security. The property was accessible from almost all directions, and it would only take a couple assault teams to tear the place to shreds.

Or one well-placed bomb.

Luke turned his head, staring at the empty space beside him. Elizabeth was somewhere on the property, he hoped. The second they'd arrived back from lunch, she'd tossed him the keys and walked off without a single word of goodbye.

It wouldn't be her who brought the Devil here, though. It couldn't be her. Shaw had said she wouldn't betray him, that she wasn't going anywhere until Cipher was dead...yet the complete and utter lack of trust between them meant every shred of paranoia within Luke now lived permanently in the back of his mind.

So where the hell was she?

"Marco?"

Five long, drawn-out minutes of silence followed his hesitant call. There was no answer. No footsteps of a woman who might be slipping into his room with a bottle of bourbon. No hint anyone but himself and Sam were in the house. He sighed and rolled over, facing the door, and shut his eyes. Sooner or later, Elizabeth would show up. When that was, Luke didn't know, but it had to happen. There was no one else's bed to crawl into. Nowhere else for Shaw to go except back to her.

...She wouldn't go back, would she?

Elizabeth had sworn black and blue she was his partner. Given him her word. Something that meant enough to her that she was willing to cut ties with her own family just to keep it. Surely whatever vague morals and ethics Shaw clung to, whatever code she lived by that stopped her from becoming a mirror image of Cipher, would also stop her from leaving in the middle of the night.

Otherwise, what the hell was the point in staying here?

Everyone knew the place was a trap. A baited lure to draw Cipher in before the cage dropped and she was caught. Except everyone also knew it'd never work out that way. Their enemy wasn't stupid. She'd never waltz in and allow herself to be caught unless it got Cipher something she couldn't get any other way.

Like her fucking pet monster.

Or Toretto's head.

Shit. He was doing it again, wasn't he? 

Bracing himself for what he thought was the inevitable. Preparing for the worst-case scenario.

Luke groaned and rolled the other way, facing where his partner should've been laying. In an ideal world, Elizabeth would've already walked into the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel, changed into his clothes, and curled up beside him. She'd have used him for comfort, or sex, and made some snarky comment about how old he was or some bullshit like that before one of them told the other to shut up.

Then Shaw would interlock her fingers with his, tug him closer, and all but invite him to spoon.

"What part of leave didn't you understand?"

Shaw? Wait, what the hell was he doing out there so late? Let alone down this way? Who was he even—

"Deckard."

Beth. She was still here. Still with him. Good. It sure beat the alternative.

"You said it yourself: we're done. You wanted out of the family? You got it. So whatever this is, I don't want anything to—"

"Decks."

It was the crack in her voice that made him kick the sheets off and sit up. Luke tensed, waiting for more. A sign he needed to step in or step up. An indication there was going to be trouble, as if the two siblings being together wasn't already one.

"This isn't happening, Anna. You and I are over. You don't go near Owen, understand? You stay the fuck away from Toretto and the rest of them. And if I find out you've been within ten feet of Hattie, I'll put you back in that concrete box where I should've left you."

Deckard's footsteps remained all but silent as he left. Luke couldn't hear him, couldn't see him, but he knew the eldest Shaw sibling had gone. Elizabeth's nonreaction, her silence, filled in the blanks like nothing else could. She'd burned those bridges, turned her back on her family, and now it was biting her in the ass, wasn't it? Yet for whatever reason, she'd tried to reach out tonight only for it to blow up in Shaw's face.

Why?

Why had she extended the olive branch?

Why—

"...Gdye ti?" Where are you?

I'm right here, he wanted to say, but a sinking feeling in Luke's gut suddenly formed at the sound of Elizabeth's voice. She wasn't talking to him. No, she was making a fucking phone call.

"Seryozna?" Seriously? 

Luke stood, grabbed his sidearm off the bedside drawer, and wedged it in the back of his pants. He'd been right, hadn't he? Tonight was the night she betrayed them. Tonight, Elizabeth was going to shove that knife in his back and make sure it stuck.

"Da ladna." Fine.

He moved quietly toward the rear door, footsteps slow and cautious. Whatever Shaw had in mind, it wasn't going to happen the way she wanted it to. Not if Luke had anything to say about it.

"...Pyat minut." Five minutes.

Elizabeth tried to keep her steps quiet, but there was no question in his mind she was jogging. Her pace sounded quick enough to get her wherever she was going, but not so fast that he'd be unable to keep up with her. Luke slipped out of the house, clocked the dark figure moving toward the distant treeline, and followed.

A quick text to Jonah asked him to keep an eye on Sam. Despite the late hour, there was a reply in seconds saying his brother would do as much. No questions asked, no arguments, just loyalty. That was real family. The kind his daughter deserved to have, not the dysfunctional mess that the Shaws somehow lived with.

As he neared the trees, Luke ducked his head, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a branch. It wasn't going to be easy getting himself through there without Elizabeth hearing him, but who knew, maybe he'd get lucky. Her footsteps echoed in the uneasy silence, just loud enough that they'd likely mask his own. Luke took a couple steps, aiming for roots and tree trunks he could land on without breaking twigs or crunching leaves...and it worked.

The sound of his feet landing was quieter than Shaw's jogging through the woods, and once he fell into a rhythm, it was more than easy enough to keep up until they hit the highway. Elizabeth never once looked over her shoulder the whole time, even when she reached the road. Instead of checking her surroundings, she walked straight to an idling car and climbed in the back. The headlights were off, with the interior illuminated by a single glowstick on the dash like a beacon calling to Elizabeth, and sitting behind the wheel—

Luke drew his sidearm, aimed, and fired without hesitation. The glass cracked, turning into a network of spiderwebs as he emptied his clip. Elizabeth ducked and pressed herself into the seat as bullet after bullet struck the car, all to no avail, and the whole time the driver didn't flinch.

Anyone else would have driven off, tried to escape the hail of lead, but not her. Cipher remained upright as if waiting for more, and when it didn't come, she turned her head to look in his direction and smiled like she'd just fucking won.

Chapter Text

The windows were lowered once they were two miles away, allowing the cool breeze to whip through their hair while the radio and lights stayed off.

Without the glow stick, now covered and tossed in the glove compartment, the car's interior had been plunged into near-total darkness. Cipher drove like that for a while, neither of them saying a word until...

"I thought he would've had you housetrained and toeing the company line by now. Guess I was wrong."

"I needed out." Elizabeth sank back into the cushioned seat, the tension finally starting to leave her body, and stared out at the forest that surrounded them. "I couldn't breathe there. It's—"

"Suffocating? That's what happens when you give someone your leash. They choke you with it."

The pitch-black woods gradually gave way to flickering streetlights, and those led to an old brick building that'd clearly seen better days illuminated by the faint glow of a near-dead neon sign that read The Pit. Cipher parked parallel to the front and stepped out, giving a security camera mounted above the front door a single glance before she pushed the door open and walked inside.

Elizabeth found herself following in silence, glancing around at the scarred furniture and dim lights. The place had clearly seen better days, but there was a coziness to it. Scorch marks marred the aging bar counter amidst stains from liquor spills or blood, and a corner of the room had been cleared of all furniture. Over fifteen square feet of space sat empty, with two simple rules carved into a sign on an adjacent wall.

Fists only. No weapons.

"You thought Hobbs would save you."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to." Cipher fetched a bourbon bottle from behind the bar and poured two drinks, sliding one across the counter. "It's in the way you let him touch you. The way you act around him."

She took her glass and turned away, yet Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to deny it. Not even as Cipher leaned forward, her own glass cupped between her hands, like the hacker was the devil on her shoulder.

"Hobbs doesn't realize that you're better off broken."

"You like me unhinged."

"No," said Cipher, helping herself to a seat between sips of liquor. "I like you honest."

Elizabeth downed her bourbon in two seconds flat before she slid off the bar stool, making her way toward one of the few cushioned booths in the place. Given her empty stomach, the buzz of alcohol would soon kick in, then reality would slowly become nothing but background noise.

"You think he'll let you stay free after this because you slept in his bed, Anna? Played nice with his kid?"

Getting drunk was like getting high, only not quite so blissful. Least of all because there was nothing on the planet that could replicate the chemical high, the utter peace, the feeling of invincibility, that came with meth. Well, it wasn't technically meth, was it? But it was the only comparison she could make because krokodil, the so-called meth of Russia, was far worse than what Hobbs had ever seen on his side of the Atlantic...and yet so much better.

"Sooner or later, he's going to realize you're not built for peace. You're not meant for breakfast in bed, cotton sheets, and sleepy Sunday mornings"

I know, she wanted to say. Instead, Beth bit her tongue and stretched out on the soft leather cushion, letting herself sink into it. Even as she did, a question lingered in her mind. If not breakfast, cotton, and Sundays, then what?

Lunch at Grand Cru, silk, and Friday nights?

Maybe Cipher hadn't noticed but her career as an escort, prostitute, upper class whore—whatever someone wanted to call it—was over. She didn't need to dangle herself off the arm of a man and perform like her life depended on it anymore...

"One day, Hobbs is going to see you. The real you. And he's going to hate it."

"Already has," The tension slid from Elizabeth's shoulders, seeped out of her spine, as she closed her eyes. "He fucked me anyway."

"Exactly." Cipher's footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, eerily loud amidst the silence. "You've let him make you soft. Weak. You're not the woman I knew anymore. You're just a painted doll he can pull out of his drawer when he needs to jerk off."

"I don't know what I am."

The cushion sank slightly, then a glass was pressed into her grasp. A single shot of rum, she found, as Elizabeth swallowed it down. She welcomed the lingering burn, even if the taste still didn't quite agree with her.

"You're one of us, Beth. Always will be."

"...Because it's easier with you."

"Well, I don't ask you to be good."

No, Cipher didn't, did she? She didn't take a monster and ask it to wear a fucking halo. To play pretend, as if she'd sprout a pair of angel wings just because there was a drop of morality in her blood.

But neither did Luke, if she was being honest with herself.

Not in that way.

Maybe it was because Cipher took his daughter or perhaps Elizabeth herself had rubbed off on him somehow, but something had changed in Hobbs. All his holier than thou bullshit seemed like it'd been thrown out the window, if only temporarily.

He was less abrasive now, and things were far less his way or the highway. The Fed had finally begun to see cooperation as a two-way street, not an all-but-guaranteed one-way trip to prison with threats attached.

"You don't ask me to be anything."

"I don't need to. I already know what you are."

A scared child in a woman's body? Or the monster under the bed? The thing fueled by rage and hatred that she'd carved herself into so when the door closed, Beth didn't need to fear the dark anymore. No, the dark needed to fear her.

"But Hobbs?" Cipher snorted in derision. "He'll never understand you. He might tolerate you while you're useful to him, but as soon as it's over, you'll be tossed aside. Discarded like yesterday's trash."

Fuck, she needed another drink. If only because it would make listening to this one-sided conversation a little less tiresome. Elizabeth sat upright, grabbing the couch to steady herself as she stood and reached her feet. It'd only been weeks since she last had a glass of decent alcohol, yet it felt like an eternity. Drinking that swill Hobbs called beer certainly helped take the edge off her cravings, but it couldn't match the taste of wine.

Or the pleasure of sculling a $10,000 bottle of glorified grape juice knowing that somewhere in the world some pretentious asshole had missed out on adding it to his collection. After all, what was wine for if not drinking?

"And after he throws you away—and Hobbs will—I'll still be here when you come crawling back."

Of course.

Like the fucking borderline addict she was, Elizabeth could walk away a million times and still find herself darkening Cipher's door when things spiraled out of control. When the misery and darkness was too much to bear, and she needed someone to rip the crap out of her brain. Why else had she made the phone call?

"Tell me something I don't know," Elizabeth said, decanting a bottle with Henri Jayer printed on the label. "Like why you're even wasting your time on these idiots."

"It's the principle of the matter."

"Is it? You could've blown them sky high by now. That's not principle, it's..." She sniffed the glass then gulped down almost half of it, slowly walking back to the booth and helping herself to a seat. Why any person would pay ten thousand for alcohol was beyond her, but at least it tasted good. "Why didn't you just take them out the other day? The convoy was exposed. You could've killed Toretto at any time."

"Elizabeth."

"It's been weeks, but not one of them is dead. What are you waiting for? A gilded invitation? How much time are you going to spend ripping wings off flies before you finally do something?"

"You chose the girl," said Cipher, snatching the bottle from her grasp. "You're not privy to that information anymore."

"Last time I chose you, all I got was sent to prison. Forgive me if I don't put my faith in someone who has all but proven she's incapable of getting the job done."

"Incapable?"

"I didn't stutter."

"You called me, and I came with open arms to welcome the prodigal daughter home." Cipher turned to face her, cupping her left cheek with one hand. "I could've hurt you, rejected you, or tied you up and tortured you for what you did, but no, I didn't. I embraced you. I let you come in from the cold because this is where you belong, and now you want to whine about me taking too long to kill the thorn in our side?"

Our side. Our, not hers. God, why did Cipher have to fucking say it like they were allies? Like the two of them were still together in this fight rather than on opposite sides. Like the longer they sat there and drank, the number Elizabeth would become, until eventually she forgot what had happened.

"I got to Yuri Makarov in three years," Elizabeth said, jabbing herself in the chest. "Alone."

"You fucked your way to the top." For a second, it sounded like there was a hint of admiration in Cipher's voice, buried somewhere beneath the reality check. A small fragment of respect, perhaps, for doing something that the Agency couldn't. Who was she kidding, though? It was probably nothing more than an irregularity caused by the alcohol. "That is not the same thing as assembling a mercenary army. You didn't have to manage logistics or finances while actively hunting someone across the globe."

"And one day I'll fuck you as well."