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."