An Eye For An Eye (Fast & Furious | Hobbs/OFC)

Chapter 36

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?"