Cairo had gone wrong.
Cypher escaped. The AI module was in Devon's possession, but the sting of the loss and Harry's death still burned. For Deckard Shaw, it was more than a setback it was a declaration of war. And someone had to pay.
"Toretto," Deckard growled, staring at the image of Dom on his cracked phone screen. "You handed my brother over... and then you left him to die."
Devon looked up from calibrating a drone. "We have bigger fish, Deck. Cypher's still in play."
"Let me handle mine," Deckard snapped. "This one's personal."
Devon paused, then nodded. "Just don't get yourself killed."
Deckard didn't respond. He was already gone.
Deckard touched down in Los Angeles under the radar. He used old aliases and burner phones, digging into surveillance feeds, traffic cams, and financial records. In less than a day, he'd tracked every member of Toretto's crew. He knew where they lived, when they met, and where they felt safest.
Home.
Toretto's old house had been rebuilt since their pardon. It wasn't as wild as it used to be, but it still held the scent of family. That made it the perfect target.
Deckard watched from the shadows, observing them. Dom hosting a barbecue. Roman complaining about the heat. Letty leaning against the porch rail. Tej and Brian sharing a laugh. Laughter, peace, healing.
They didn't deserve it.
Two nights later, the trap was sprung. A package arrived on the doorstep. Dom opened it, expecting maybe a delivery from a supplier.
It ticked.
The explosion ripped through the house like a shotgun blast to the chest. Fire consumed the newly rebuilt walls. The crew scrambled for safety Roman pulling Letty out, Tej dragging Brian to cover, Dom shielding Mia and Jack.
The neighbourhood was thrown into chaos. Police. Fire trucks. Helicopters.
In a nearby alley, Deckard leaned against a wall, eyes cold as steel. He dialed a number and dropped the phone in a trash can.
"That's for Owen," he whispered.