Chapter Text
The entire crew stormed outside, waiting for whatever was about to happen. Lance never showed up just for a friendly chat. No, if he was here, he had an agenda. And Dominic didn’t like it one bit.
The afternoon sun beat down on the front yard, the remnants of their barbecue scattered across the tables. Conversations had died the moment the familiar growl of an engine echoed down the street.
Everyone gathered at the front of the house. The tension only grew when they saw who had arrived.
Lance stood in front of his car, leaning casually against the hood as if he owned the place. What unsettled Dom the most was the smile on his face -- a knowing, predatory smile that sent a chill through everyone present.
What was he up to this time?
They had an agreement. Stay out of each other's territory. Stay out of each other's business.
"You shouldn't be here, Lance. We had a deal."
Lance's smile never faltered. If anything, it widened. Pushing himself off the hood, he slowly circled the car.
"I know. I know," he said, fingers lazily drumming against the vehicle's polished frame. "I just thought you might be interested in what I have to offer."
"I'm not interested in anything you have to offer."
Dom's tone was flat and dismissive. He wasn't in the mood for whatever game Lance was playing.
"You see, that's where I disagree."
Lance walked to the rear of the car and popped the trunk open. Instantly, everyone tensed.
Two of his men stepped forward. Instead of reaching for guns, they dragged out a man.
Dom's gaze hardened. He didn't like where this was going.
The man’s hands were bound behind his back, and a black hood covered his head. His oversized shirt was stained with dark blood.
"What's the meaning of this, Lance?" Vince demanded.
"This was my new hire." Lance pointed toward the captive. "Harry personally recommended him. I thought highly of him."
He laughed and shook his head.
"Now imagine my surprise when I caught him snooping around my garage. Somewhere he had absolutely no business being."
Lance strolled back toward the prisoner and rested a hand on his shoulder.
The man's muscles immediately locked up.
Dom felt his stomach tighten. Then he noticed the knife in Lance's hand.
"Now, don't be shy."
Lance's grip tightened as he slid the blade beneath the collar of the man's shirt. With one swift motion, he sliced the fabric open.
"I was ready to kill him right then and there," Lance continued, giving the captive a rough shake. "But this little bitch just wouldn't stay down."
The man stumbled from the force of it but remained upright.
"Then I realized he wasn't just any bitch."
Lance moved behind him, wrapping an arm around his neck and shoulders while casually twirling the knife in his free hand.
The hood still concealed the prisoner's face.
"This..."
He exposed the black ink stretched across the man's ribs.
"...is Dominic Toretto's bitch."
Dom took a step forward before stopping himself.
Lance's arm immediately tightened around the man's shoulders.
His soulmate.
His Brian.
The elegant cursive lettering curved around the man's ribcage. Dom's name. There was no mistake.
This was his Brian.
"How dare you threaten someone else's soulmate?" Vince shouted furiously.
"I'm not threatening anybody," Lance replied casually. "The second I saw the mark, I stopped beating the hell out of him." He smirked. "Well... mostly."
Dom saw red.
"What do you want?" Dom asked through clenched teeth.
Every instinct screamed at him to lunge at Lance and beat him into the ground. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to stay where he was. He hadn't thought it possible to hate someone as much as he'd hated the man who killed his father.
Yet in that moment, he might have hated Lance even more.
Still, he held himself back.
For Brian.
Lance's smile widened, smug and self-satisfied. He knew he had the upper hand.
"Maybe we should talk somewhere a little more comfortable."
Vince immediately stepped forward. "No way."
A flicker of irritation crossed Lance's face.
"I said let's take this somewhere else," he replied coldly. "Make me feel welcome so we can discuss business and leave the girls out of it."
Dom agreed for one reason and one reason only.
Brian.
His soulmate was still tied up, bruised, bleeding, and forced to stand there with a hood over his head. Every second Lance kept his hands on him felt like a personal insult.
Dom hated everything about this situation.
Lance finally released Brian and sauntered toward him, leaving the captive in the grip of his men.
As he passed, he leaned in close enough for only Dom to hear.
"I just want you to understand something." His voice was deceptively casual. "If you try anything I don't like, your pretty little boytoy is going to pay for it."
Dom's jaw tightened.
Lance chuckled.
"I won't even let you see his face before I get rid of the body. And believe me..." His grin turned vicious. "The kid's a real looker. It'd be a shame."
For a moment, Dom's gaze drifted back to Brian.
Blood stained his shirt, that hang loosely on his thin frame and concealed the seriousness of his injuries. His hands were bound behind his back. The hood still hid his face. He willed Brian to hold on.
Then Dom turned away and led Lance toward the backyard, where only minutes earlier his family had been enjoying a barbecue beneath the warm afternoon sun.
Brian hated this.
His head was pounding. His shoulder throbbed with every movement, his ribs weren't feeling much better, and he still had that disgusting hood pulled over his face. It smelled like sweat, gasoline and several poor life choices.
This was not how the day was supposed to go.
All he'd wanted was a quick look around Lance's garage. Maybe he'd find something useful. Maybe something incriminating.
Instead, he'd found trouble.
At least Lance no longer thought he was a cop.
Apparently getting beaten half to death and accidentally revealing a soulmate mark was enough to clear up that misunderstanding.
Unfortunately, solving one problem had only created another. A much bigger one.
Brian didn't want to meet his soulmate yet. Not now. Definitely not like this.
He had a job to do. A very important job. Then, after everything was finished, maybe he could track down Dominic Toretto and have the incredibly awkward, "Hi, I'm your soulmate" conversation.
There were supposed to be steps.
Preparation.
Mental readiness.
Not kidnapping.
Not public humiliation.
And certainly not meeting the guy while bleeding through his shirt.
Brian remained still as Lance pawed at him like an overgrown cat with severe anger issues.
He managed to keep his composure right up until he heard a voice.
Deep. Rough. And commanding.
Even through the hood and the pounding in his skull, Brian knew immediately who it belonged to. Toretto.
Well. Shit.
Eventually Lance released him and wandered off with some of his crew to discuss whatever business proposition he had brought with him, leaving Brian alone with the two idiots assigned to guard him.
Brian had never really connected with anyone in Lance's crew. Not that he'd spent much time around them. Most of his days were spent working at Harry's garage. He rarely ventured anywhere near Lance's operation unless absolutely necessary.
Honestly, he hadn't even realized Lance considered him part of the crew.
That was awkward.
At some point Brian would probably have to explain that he wasn't interested in joining a group led by a homicidal lunatic who thought assault was a reasonable onboarding process.
He'd have to let him down gently.
Brian shifted slightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure in his shoulder.
One of the goons immediately tightened his grip.
"What is it, princess?" the man sneered. "Need to sit down? Can't handle a little roughhousing between friends?"
Before Brian could answer, the guy drove a fist into his stomach. Pain exploded through his ribs. His knees buckled, and he dropped heavily to the ground.
Yeah. His ribs were definitely not okay. Brian sucked in a slow breath.
Think. The two goons had at least one gun between them. Maybe two. Neither seemed particularly competent. And Brian had spent years learning how to fight while injured, exhausted, outnumbered, or all three at once.
He could take them. He just had to do it fast. Before somebody from the house came outside.
Remaining on the ground, Brian forced himself to breathe heavily, selling the injury a little more than necessary.
The goons relaxed.
Good.
Meanwhile, he subtly worked his bound hands against the restraints.
He'd been in worse situations. Probably. Maybe.
"See, now why would you do something like that?" Brian asked between breaths. "I thought we were all friends here."
The goons laughed.
In one swift movement, Brian pulled his bound hands beneath his legs and brought them in front of him.
Before either man could react, he ripped the hood off his head.
Fresh air. Finally.
He immediately lashed out with a kick.
His boot connected squarely with one guard's knee. A loud crack echoed through the yard. The man screamed and collapsed.
The second guard froze for half a second. Half a second was all Brian needed.
As the man reached for the gun tucked beneath his belt, Brian surged forward. The weapon changed hands almost instantly.
Training beat panic every time.
Without really thinking about it, Brian fired. The shot rang out across the neighborhood. The goon dropped, clutching his leg and howling.
Brian stared at him for a fraction of a second.
Damn. That was definitely going to get everyone's attention. No time to worry about it now.
Brian spun around and sprinted toward Lance's car. Every movement sent fresh pain through his ribs, but adrenaline carried him forward.
He yanked open the driver's door, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine. The roar of the motor felt like victory.
Shouting erupted from the backyard. People were already coming.
Brian threw the car into reverse. Gravel sprayed underneath the wheels.
A second later he was flying down the street, leaving Lance, the goons, and the entire disaster behind him.
The gunshot shattered the tense afternoon air. For a single, horrifying moment, Dom's blood ran cold.
Brian.
His mind immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.
He was already moving before he realized it, shoving his chair aside and rounding the corner of the house at a run. His heart hammered against his ribs.
If Lance had gotten him hurt --
No.
If Lance had gotten him killed --
The deal they had been discussing wouldn't matter anymore. Nothing would.
Dom would make sure Lance paid for it.
But when he reached the front yard, the scene before him wasn't what he'd expected.
Lance's car was pulling away from the curb. Fast.
The two men who had been guarding Brian were sprawled on the ground, clutching their legs and cursing loudly.
For a second, Dom simply stared.
Then his eyes landed on the discarded black hood lying in the dirt.
Brian. Gone.
A strange mix of relief and panic crashed through him all at once. Relief that Brian wasn't lying dead on the ground. Panic because he was now hurt, alone, and speeding away from people who wanted him dead.
Dom looked up again, trying to catch a glimpse of the driver. But the car was already disappearing down the street.
"Dom." A hand squeezed his shoulder. It was Vince. The touch snapped him back to reality.
The fear was still there, gnawing at his chest, but it had been replaced by something stronger.
Determination.
He had finally found his soulmate. He wasn't about to lose him now.
All thoughts about Lance were forgotten in an instant.
Without another word, Dom turned and headed for his Charger. Vince followed immediately.
Across the yard, Letty and Leon were already moving toward their own cars, understanding the situation without needing an explanation.
Engines roared to life one after another.
Moments later, they were tearing out of the neighborhood in pursuit of the man who had unknowingly turned all of their lives upside down.
Dom gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Just hold on.
I'm coming.