The engines were already growling when Shepherd slid behind the wheel.
Neon lights buzzed overhead, casting a jungle of color across chrome and carbon fiber. Rio's underground racing scene had teeth—and tonight, it bit back.
Across the line, Dominic Toretto revved his Charger, giving a small nod toward the newcomer everyone was whispering about. Shepherd Fox. Quiet. Fast. Controlled. Dangerous in the way a loaded pistol left on a table was dangerous.
No one had expected him to beat Brian O'Conner the week before. But he had. Clean. Fast. Unshakable.
Now, Dom wanted to know who the hell this guy was.
The countdown hit zero.
Go.
The world narrowed.
Shepherd's car snarled and launched, tires clawing at the pavement. The GT-R danced through gears like a predator, smooth and relentless. Dom's Charger roared beside him, heavier, louder—but driven with fury carved from years of war on the streets.
For most of the run, they were neck and neck.
But on the last curve—a razor-sharp corner that required both instinct and history—Dom made the call. Drifted late. Accelerated early.
Shepherd misjudged. Just by a breath.
It was enough.
The Charger tore past him at the final second, hammering over the finish line first.
Crowds erupted. Money changed hands. Engines cooled.
Shepherd killed his motor and stepped out. Dom was already walking toward him.
"You drive like someone who doesn't remember how to lose," Dom said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "But tonight, you did."
Shepherd smirked. "Guess I needed the reminder."
Dom studied him. Closer this time. As if searching for something in his face.
"You look like someone I used to know. My mother's sister."
Shepherd's smile faltered. "Her name was Rosa."
Dom's eyes narrowed. "You knew her?"
"I knew she wrote letters to your mom. Long time ago. I was a kid when they stopped." He exhaled, the weight of it creeping in. "She died a few years back. Came to Rio looking for work. Never came back."
Dom looked away for a moment, jaw tight.
"She was family," he said.
"She was all I had."
The silence between them was thick, but not cold. It carried something older. Blood. Memory. Grief that wore different clothes.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Dom asked.
"I didn't even remember, not until recently." Shepherd tapped his temple. "It's like… something inside me's waking up. Her voice. Her face. Things I didn't know I'd forgotten."
Dom nodded slowly. "Then maybe you were meant to come here. And maybe you're not alone anymore."
Shepherd looked up. "You sure?"
Dom gave a crooked grin. "I don't care if you came from L.A. or the moon. You're family. That makes you one of us."
With that, Dom turned and walked back toward his Charger, the crowd parting like a tide.
Shepherd stood there long after everyone else had left.
Later That Night – The Garage
The city had gone quiet, its noise drowned under the hum of his own thoughts.
Shepherd sat beneath hanging lights in the garage he'd claimed as his own. The GT-R rested on the lift, scarred from the race. Tools lay scattered, but his hands were still.
Because something else had begun to stir.
A pulse.
Not from the street.
From within.
His chest burned—not painfully, but with heat. The kind that came from pressure building. Change arriving.
The Rift Core flickered beneath his skin like a heartbeat made of light.
Then came the voice.
"Shepherd."
He blinked.
"Shepherd Fox. Identification recognized. AI synchronization complete."
He stood up fast, knocking over a wrench. "Alix?"
The voice was smooth, female, clinical but familiar. The lab AI he'd designed back home. The one that had guided his Rift Engine experiments. It had followed him. Or… no. It had become the Core.
"This instance of ALIX has been migrated and embedded within the Rift Core. Welcome to system recovery."
He stared at the faint, flickering diagnostic window that now overlaid his vision—his neural interface rebooting like a forgotten ghost.
"What's happening to me?" he asked.
"Dimensional coordinates stabilized. Rift Core functionality at 12%. Energy input required to resume full operation."
"Energy? What kind?"
"Kinetic. Thermal. Electric .Emotional. You must feed the Core. Accelerated vehicles. Conflict. High-intensity fields."
He looked at the GT-R, then back at the pulsing light beneath his skin.
"So racing powers it?"
"Among other things. Rift resonance accelerates during heightened emotional and kinetic states."
Of course it did.
The adrenaline. The speed. The stakes.
He wasn't just here by accident.
The Core had brought him to a world where energy like that was constant.
And now it wanted him to use it.
He looked up at the stars beyond the roof vent, his jaw clenched.
This world was just the beginning.
And somewhere out there—other doors were waiting to open.