The photo on the hood caught the strip-light glare: Letty locked in a tight embrace with Dominic Toretto.
Everyone besides Cole had only known her as Owen's driver—quiet, lethal, closed book. Even Owen Shaw, who'd pulled her in himself, hadn't seen that image before.
"I don't know why there's a picture of me in it," Letty said. "I have no impression of this man."
Her face shifted—quick, then still. Cole noticed.
If she hasn't recovered, that wouldn't have landed. So either fragments are coming back… or she's already playing both sides.
"Alright, enough," Owen said, skipping the subject. "We deal with them."
"Leave them to me," Cole said. He picked up the dossier. "I've found their base location. I'll solve it."
He glanced to Owen.
"Okay," Owen said. "We'll leave that to Cole. Next, we focus on the second chip component."
He didn't ask how Cole knew. He trusted him.
Soon, they split.
Alone, Owen received Cole's message: Watch Letty. Suspect partial memory return; she may be preparing to spy.
⸻⸻
Later, by the exit ramp, Letty stood alone with her Charger, fingers resting on the roofline.
"When I dragged you out," Owen said as he came up behind her, voice low, "there's one thing you should've learned quick." He hovered close, not touching now. "I don't tolerate lies."
Letty's shoulders tightened. "I'm not lying."
"Good." He stepped away. "Keep it that way."
⸻⸻
On the road out of London, Cole drove, Ghost in the passenger seat, Christmas in back. The Humvee's rebuilt systems hummed; armour plates still scarred from the night run.
[COMMS] Ghost: "Arthur, you think there's something off with Letty?"
[COMMS] Arthur: "Yeah. I'm testing her."
If she's been whole, she's already tipped them. If they're gone when we hit, she called it. If not, we proceed.
[COMMS] Arthur: "If she recovered a while ago, she's warned them. If not, we run the plan."
He wasn't sure how much the plotline had drifted because of him. He wasn't leaving gaps. A mole at their elbow was a bad idea.
Christmas checked the dash. "We're an hour out. If nobody warned them, they won't clear that fast."
"I've asked Ross and the others to go ahead," Arthur said.
⸻⸻
HOBBS' SAFEHOUSE – THAMES EDGE
At Hobbs' base, the mood was heavy. Tonight they'd been beaten. Agent Hicks was dead. The air went flat.
"Luke, did you find out who they are?" Brian asked.
Hobbs nodded. "Interpol data matches. The Hummer's the primary rig from the Moroccan highway chase. According to the reports, it belongs to a merc outfit called the Round Table."
After Hicks's death, he'd had people pull every thread. But the mercenary dark web never opened to them. So they worked the edges.
"Mercenaries?" Brian said. "Hired by Owen's people?"
Tej shook his head. "Unlikely. Mercer crews don't usually hire other crews. Only thing that makes sense is an existing tie between Round Table and Owen."
Dominic walked over, put a photo on the table. "It's Cole Shaw."
It was the same shot Hobbs had seen a month ago—Letty with Cole.
Hobbs's eyes narrowed. "How sure?"
Dom lifted his phone—one text on screen, two words only: Cole Shaw.
"Who sent that, and when?" Roman asked.
Everyone looked at Dom, waiting.
"When I entered the tunnel chasing Owen," Dom said. "Didn't have time to read it then. Saw it when we got back."
He'd seen Letty in the chase. She hadn't seemed to know him. It didn't matter. The text hit minutes later. She was under, buried deep.
"Letty's in danger," Han said. "If we can find Owen's data, Owen can find ours. Your connection with Letty gets exposed."
"Letty can handle it," Dom said. If she could sit inside Owen's crew, she had cover.
"Now that we know Cole Shaw is tied to the Round Table, tonight makes sense," Hobbs said. "Owen's his brother. Of course he shows."
"The key is how many we're facing," Hobbs added. "I'll pull help from the Agency and Interpol partners."
A message tone cut through.
Dom checked his phone. A text from Letty:
Cole has your base. Leave now.
Roman pushed back from the table. "Okay, that's our cue, right? Bags, keys, goodbye?"
No one moved.
Tej looked around at the stillness, then at Hobbs. "They're almost on top of us—are we leaving or what?" …