"You found her already?"
"Okay, I'm coming over."
"I actually found something too. I was planning to bring it to you."
Dom's efficiency was higher than Hunter expected.
Hunter knew Dom had deep connections in the West Coast underground racing scene, so checking on a local locksmith company would be easier for him.
But this was fast.
After hanging up, Hunter rode his bike straight to the Toretto house.
He had originally planned to wait a few days before handing over the proof of Brian's FBI status.
He figured his warning alone would be enough to make Dom pause the heists for a while. Without caught-in-the-act evidence, the FBI couldn't do much.
But since Dom had delivered, Hunter would too.
Hunter arrived at the house.
He scanned the perimeter cautiously, just like last time.
Seeing no anomalies, he knocked.
Dom opened the door quickly.
Perhaps because of their previous deal, the big man's face was less hostile this time. The coldness was still there, but the animosity had faded.
"Come in."
Dom stepped aside.
With his stats nearly double that of a normal human, Hunter's senses were sharp.
Even in this creaky wooden house, he picked up a faint sound and a scent distinct from Dom's musk.
A woman was hiding somewhere in the house.
"Beer?"
This time, Hunter got the VIP treatment.
Dom opened the fridge and handed him a Budweiser.
"Thanks."
Hunter took a swig, then placed the manila envelope on the coffee table.
"Here. The proof you asked for."
Dom didn't hesitate. He tore open the envelope.
As he flipped through the photos, his stoic face darkened visibly.
When he reached a specific photo, his grip tightened so hard that veins popped on the back of his hand. The photo crinkled under the pressure.
"Thanks."
After a long silence, Dom tossed the envelope back onto the table.
He looked at Hunter and thanked him solemnly.
Dom now fully believed the warning.
The FBI was watching.
Dom knew his crew's habits. They were reckless. Gambling, drugs, illegal racing. All expensive vices.
Despite stealing millions in electronics from truckers over the years, none of them had savings. They spent it as fast as they stole it.
Even Letty, the most level-headed one, had eventually succumbed to the lifestyle because Dom was confident they wouldn't get caught.
But now, the bubble had burst.
Dom needed this evidence to convince his crew to stop. Without it, they—addicted to the easy money—might have ignored him or gone rogue, exposing everyone.
Even Dom himself had been secretly hoping Hunter was wrong so the money train could keep rolling.
Now, that hope was dead.
Hunter didn't care about Dom's internal conflict.
Since realizing this world wasn't just Fast & Furious, his interest in joining the "Family" had evaporated. He was only helping Dom for Mia's sake.
"Dom, I've got other things to do," Hunter said, breaking the silence.
"Can I get Stella Bridger's info?"
Dom looked at him for a moment, then pulled a slip of paper from his pocket.
Hunter unfolded it.
Just a single address.
He looked up, but Dom offered no further explanation.
Hunter nodded, finished his beer in one gulp, and stood up to leave.
As he walked out the door, he felt eyes on him.
From the second floor.
He glanced up and saw a figure vanish from the window.
"Mia?"
He couldn't be sure. He paused for a moment, then shook his head and left.
Inside, Letty walked into the living room after the front door closed.
Seeing Dom sitting on the sofa in silence, staring at a beer, she asked, "Dom? Is it confirmed?"
Dom didn't speak. He just pointed at the manila envelope.
Letty picked it up. A few photos in, her face went pale.
Brian lurking near the cafe. Brian entering the FBI building.
It was undeniable. He was a fed.
Hunter's warning was real.
They had to face reality: The FBI was hunting them.
Now they had a choice.
Stop and lay low?
Liquidate the last shipment and flee the country?
Or pull one last, insane job before the net closed?
Silence filled the room as they weighed their fate.
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