Late at night.
The house had gone quiet. Music off. Friends gone.
Brian Marcos was still sitting in front of the now-black TV screen, the glow long gone. He leaned back against the couch, legs stretched out, an open soda can at his side.
Behind him on the couch sat Jack O'Conner, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling light slowly swaying.
Jack broke the silence with a calm, low voice.
"Bri…"
Brian looked over his shoulder slightly.
Jack continued,
"I've been wondering… when did you start calling Aunt Letty 'Mom'?"
Brian didn't answer right away. The question hung in the air.
Jack leaned forward a little.
"I mean… your real mom—Elena—she was something else. Even my dad said she was one of the few people who could make Dom actually listen."
Brian's eyes dropped to the floor. There was something deep in them. A weight. A scar that never quite healed.
"When my mom… when Elena died," he said quietly, "I was still young. But not too young to forget. I remember the news. I remember my dad's voice. I remember him saying, 'I'm sorry, son.'"
Jack didn't interrupt.
Brian continued,
"At first… I couldn't accept Letty. She wasn't my mom. She didn't try to replace her, but... she was just there. Always. She held me when I had fevers. She fixed my bike. She scolded me when I skipped school."
He smiled faintly, but his voice cracked with emotion.
"One day… I crashed my mini-bike in the driveway. She ran out, hugged me, and said, 'My baby, are you okay?'."
Brian took a slow breath.
"I don't know why, but I answered without thinking, 'I'm fine, Mom.' Since then… I never called her anything else."
Jack stared at him quietly, something shifting behind his calm eyes.
Brian stood and gently patted Jack on the shoulder.
"She's not my birth mom… but she's my mom. And I'm lucky to have her."
Jack nodded slowly.
"She's all of our mom now. Even to a hardhead like me."
Brian smiled, stretching his arms.
"Maybe that's why… our dads never really left. They're still here… through us."
Jack leaned back, speaking softly.
"Family… never leaves."
The living room lights were dim.
It was deep into the night, the wind lightly brushing through a cracked window.
Brian Marcos was about to head upstairs when the sudden sound of a ringing phone broke the silence.
Jack O'Conner pulled his phone from his hoodie pocket—"Mom - Mia" lit up the screen.
Jack answered as he sat back down on the couch.
"Hey, Mom."
Mia Toretto's warm but firm voice came through, full of motherly instinct.
"Jack... everything okay over there? You and Brian ate, right? And I mean it—don't go wandering around at night. Just because we're on vacation doesn't mean you two get a free pass."
Jack smirked faintly.
"We're good, Mom. We ate. All calm here. Brian's still with me."
Mia sighed with relief.
"Good. Watch over your brother, okay? You two still have school tomorrow. No staying up all night."
"You got it, Mom. Good night."
"Good night, sweetheart."
Jack ended the call and placed the phone on the table. He leaned back into the sofa.
Silence.
Too much silence.
Suddenly… Jack's head snapped toward the window.
Footsteps. Very soft. But heavy enough to notice.
Something—or someone—was moving in the side yard.
Jack instantly tensed.
He reached out and stopped Brian, who was just stepping onto the stairs.
"Bri," he whispered quickly.
"Did you hear that?"
Brian furrowed his brow.
"Hear what?"
Jack crept toward the window, gently pulling the curtain back just enough to peek through.
A shadow flickered, fast. Maybe just a reflection... or maybe not.
Jack turned back to Brian, his face now locked in seriousness.
"We need to go."
Brian looked confused.
"Right now? It's almost midnight."
Jack stepped closer, his tone lower, sharper.
"Something's off. I don't think that was just the wind. We're going to Uncle Tej's. Now."
Brian hesitated, then nodded.
He knew when Jack got like this, it wasn't paranoia—it was instinct. Street instinct.
They moved fast.
Jack grabbed his jacket and wallet. Brian slung on a hoodie and backpack. Without another word, they slipped out through the back door—quiet, clean, untraceable.
Meanwhile, behind the bushes in the yard…
A shadowy figure crouched low, holding something small and blinking—a signal scanner.
The figure lifted their head, scanning the house.
But by then, the two legacy kids were already gone.
A few minutes after Jack and Brian had left…
The back door creaked open.
No noise. No forced entry.
Four figures dressed in black tactical gear moved in one by one, their faces covered by sleek masks. Their steps were silent but sharp—trained. Two split off into the kitchen and living room, another moved upstairs, while one stayed by the door holding a signal tracker.
One of them spoke quietly into a comm:
"Team is inside. No signs of occupants."
The one who had gone upstairs came back down, irritated.
"Empty. Every room's clear. They're gone."
Another cursed under his breath.
"Damn it! We're too late!"
The leader, a taller figure carrying a small holographic tablet, stared at the flickering screen.
The digital trace of the house's earlier signal… now cold.
He muttered with a cold tone:
"Either they knew we were coming… or someone tipped them off."
One of the others growled, bitterly,
"I told you—don't underestimate these kids. They've got racing fuel in their blood."
The leader didn't flinch.
"Doesn't matter. We're not here to take them out… we're here to send a message."
He opened a pouch and pulled out a custom metal coin, engraved with a lion emblem slashed across.
He placed it on the coffee table—right in the center.
"So Dom… and Brian… know their past isn't finished yet."
The team exited quickly, melting into the night like ghosts.
No noise. No fingerprints. Just a warning.
A few seconds later…
The leader's tablet blinked.
A voice came through his earpiece:
"Next target: T-Garage. Tej's place."
The leader replied calmly, eyes cold:
"Let's go. Time to remind the old crew… their era is over."
⚠️ The house was empty… but not untouched.
These weren't thieves. Not cops.
Not even street racers.
This was a message from the shadows—
And it had just begun.