The chip sat heavy in Jeff's hands, its silver case reflecting the low neon glow of the warehouse. Cipher stood across from him, composed as ever, her piercing eyes dissecting him like a machine.
Jeff slid the case across the steel table. "There. Your precious Nightshade."
Cipher opened it, verified the contents, then looked up. "Efficient. Ruthless. Independent. Just like I expected."
Jeff leaned back in the chair, folding his arms. "Save the compliments. I don't work for free. If you want me again, you meet my price."
Cipher's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Oh, you'll get your price. Money, cars, toys you can't even imagine. I have endless doors to open, Jeff. And with your skills, you'll have the keys to all of them. Just remember" her voice softened, colder, "cross me, and I'll slam every one shut."
Jeff's gaze hardened, but he gave a slow nod. "As long as the deal stays clean, I don't regret doing business."
Cipher closed the case and, without another word, walked into the shadows until she vanished like smoke.
Jeff stood alone in the silence, a man who had just sold the world's future for his own.
The air was different. No one was running. No one was looking over their shoulder. The old house in Echo Park buzzed with laughter, engines cooling in the driveway. Hobbs had kept his promise no cuffs, no charges. For the first time in years, they were free.
But Dom's eyes never truly rested.
Around the grill, Roman cracked jokes, Tej tinkered with some new gadget, Brian played with little Jack as Mia watched with a warm smile.
Still, there was a shadow over them. The chip was gone. Jeff was out there. And one day soon, they knew they'd have to face him again.
The neon heart of Tokyo pulsed to the rhythm of screaming engines. Han Seoul-Oh drifted through the curves like a man born of smoke and rubber. Crowds cheered as he slid his orange RX-7 sideways, a king of the streets, untouchable.
Or so he thought.
Another car entered the race a black, sleek machine cutting through traffic with surgical precision. The driver's eyes were cold, calculating. Deckard Shaw.
The chase turned into a hunt. Han spun through an intersection, the crowd scattering and then the explosion. Fire swallowed the RX-7, metal twisting, glass shattering. The crowd screamed.
Deckard Shaw stepped from his car, phone in hand, unshaken by the chaos. He dialed.
Dom's voice answered on the other end.
"You don't know me," Shaw said, his voice like gravel. "But you're about to. That was me in Tokyo. Your brotherhood ends tonight. And I'm coming for the rest of you."
He dropped the phone, walking away as Han's car burned behind him.
Dom's phone buzzed. He answered, the crew falling silent as his face hardened.
When he hung up, his voice was low, heavy.
"Han's gone."
The family's peace shattered in an instant.
And far away, Jeff Remy looked out from the balcony of a high-rise safehouse, unaware that the storm he'd helped set in motion was about to collide with his own path.