𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩
⋅˚₊‧ † ‧₊˚ ⋅ ❥‧₊˚
"What the fuck?" Izzy groaned as she came to. The back of her head was throbbing and she vaguely remembered getting hit by something on the plane. She picked up her head and blinked a few times to clear her blurry vision. With a small shake of her head, she took a look around her and frowned at the unfamiliar warehouse. She felt a strand of her hair tickle her top lip and she reached a hand up to brush it aside, or she tried to at least. "What the fuck!" She exclaimed, yanking on the handcuffs that kept her anchored to the table. "Shit." She sighed when the chain wouldn't budge.
"Look who's finally awake." She strained to turn her head around at his annoying voice and she scoffed at the sight of him. "Thought you'd be a little more relieved to see me."
"Doubtful." She smiled sarcastically. He rounded the table and stood in front of her on the other side, his arms crossed over his chest. "Here to pass me off to someone else?"
"Ah so that's what your attitude's about." He made a smacking noise with his mouth as he sat in the lone chair in front of him. "Didn't appreciate the family reunion I arranged for you?"
"Oh no, I love being alone with the man who turned my life into a shitshow." Deckard's lips twitched before he composed himself. "Did you want me to thank you for that? Because I hate to burst your pretty little bubble, I won't."
"Guess my assumptions were wrong about you." He conceded.
"That's the thing about assumptions; They make you look like an ass." She grinned cheekily. She watched his face stay blank, his composure staying bored. "Where the fuck are we?"
"Do you have to be so crude?" He chuckled under his breath. In any other circumstances, he had no doubt he and the girl could be friends, but he was technically holding her hostage, he wasn't about to trigger her Stockholm syndrome.
"Yes." She answered simply.
"We're in Abu Dhabi." Her mouth gaped open and her eyes widened. "You were asleep for a long time." The man smirked at her.
"No shit?" She muttered. She ignored him as she took a look around the warehouse he had her in. There were pallets lined around them and she took a peek at the door behind him, an escape plan forming in her head. "Wait- back up." Her brain finally comprehended what he just said. "We're in the Middle East?"
"Never been?" He smirked. She was growing really tired of his signature facial expression.
"Why are we here?" She quirked an eyebrow at him as she leaned forward. "Is there where you murder me and hide the body?"
"If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead." He answered simply.
"I'm still not convinced." She retorted. "You didn't answer my first question."
"We're here because Toretto's here." He stood to his feet and fiddled with his cuffs. "Don't go anywhere." He picked up his bag from the floor and dropped it on the table. Izzy watched him quietly. His expression was impassive, his jaw clenched as he focused on what he was doing. She'd spent months tracking the man and trying - and failing - to locate his mother. It was still weird to her that instead of staring at his face on her computer screens, he was close enough for her to distinguish that his eyes had more green than the blue he claimed to be born with.
"What're you going to do with that?" She paled at the sight of the roll of duct tape. She'd seen enough movies to know a piece would be slapped over her mouth but she was hoping if she acted dumb, he wouldn't.
"Stop talking." Acting wasn't her forte apparently. She blanched as he stretched the tape and tore a piece off with his teeth. He walked to her and her wide eyes met his teasing ones as he slapped the tape over her mouth. Izzy didn't see the point in struggling. She was already handcuffed, she had no escape plan, and she didn't see the point in wasting her energy over a strip of tape. "I'll be back for you."
He left her with those words. The warehouse was quiet, no noises echoing around her. He had left her alone knowing she wouldn't escape, or even be able to free herself. She huffed through her nose and slumped in her seat. Well now what, she thought.
⋅˚₊‧ † ‧₊˚ ⋅ ❥‧₊˚
The sun had gone down and Deckard still hadn't returned. A single light illuminated the table and faint red lights shone sporadically throughout the building behind her. A shiver went down her spine and she sensed someone approaching behind her. Their footsteps were silent but there was a slight shuffle of them jostling something. She wanted to assume it was Deckard but after everything she experienced, it wasn't a safe assumption. They came to a stop and Izzy held her breath as she waited for their next move.
"I could've killed you." It was Deckard, she rolled her eyes at the sound of his voice. He stayed behind her for another minute before he rounded the table. He placed a bag of food down and set his black duffle bag on the floor. "Cat got your tongue?" He joked, his infamous smirk stretching across his face. Izzy rolled her eyes again and glanced away from him. She heard him open the bag and the sound of her stomach growling had her curiously watching him. "Figured you might be a little hungry. Consider this our last meal together." He extended his arm across the table and she cried out as he ripped the strip of tape off her lips. She licked her lips and took a deep breath in before exhaling loudly.
"I hate you." She uttered. He pushed the white paper bag to her and her eyes narrowed in confusion. Her gaze flickered from the bag and then to him and her glare stayed steadily on him as he went about unpacking his own food.
"What?" He stopped assembling his plate and eyed her curiously. "Don't you like burgers?"
"I do. Don't get me wrong I'm incredibly thankful for the food, it's just kind of hard to eat," she began sweetly before her expression turned sour. "When your hands are handcuffed to a freaking table!" She exclaimed and dramatically gave a tug on the chain.
"You complain a lot." He glared.
"You would too if you were-"
"A hostage. I know, I know." He scoffed. "It doesn't matter anyway, our time together is almost up."
"What do you mean?" She questioned him. "Plan on switching me off to another babysitter?"
"I think you'll like this one." He made a face and Izzy couldn't figure out what it meant. "Speaking of..." he trailed off. The girl's eyes widened as he bent over and produced the roll of duct tape from earlier.
"Oh not this again!" Izzy whined. She begged and pleaded until her words were muffled by a sticky strip. Her glare was murderous as he resumed eating and ignored her. She was beginning to understand why the man had so many enemies. A soft thud startled her and she whipped her head around as much as she could to see where the noise was coming from. She turned back to Deckard and the man sent her a quick wink as he cut his steak. With another roll of her eyes, she jumped slightly as a louder thud echoed around them.
"Eyes on me or its back to your uncle you go." His threat seemed silly but they both knew it was the girl's worst fear. The sound of a gun cocking had her tensing as Deckard shook his head and motioned for her not to react.
⋅˚₊‧ † ‧₊˚ ⋅ ❥‧₊˚
"Are you ready for this?" Brian asked Dom as they watched Nobody's men enter the warehouse. The two watched Franco and his team enter first, followed by Shepperd's Bravo team. Mr. Nobody gave them a grin before following his men inside.
"Yeah." Dom was confident. They had the men and all Deckard had was himself - and hopefully Izzy.
She saw them before she heard them. Or she saw the ten red dots centered on Deckard's chest rather than the men themselves. Her eyes stayed focused on Deckard as he ate and didn't acknowledge the threat.
Dom saw the girl the same time the rest of them did. Her back was to them as the British man ate. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as she didn't turn around and he had a few guesses as to why.
"I hope you're enjoying your last meal," Brian called out. Deckard's attention was finally on them as he met Dom's heated glare. Deckard let his fork and knife clank on the table as he scoffed at the sight of the soldiers around them.
"This is it?" He made a face. "This is all I'm worth? A dozen men?"
"I think you'll find it's more than enough," Shepperd called out.
"Not all of us are here for you." Izzy felt relief wash over her as she heard his voice. Deckard noticed the slight change in the girl's posture as the man spoke. His eyes flickered over to the blond man beside Dom and he could see the rage on his face. The girl was important to him, a detail he kept in mind. Deckard picked up his napkin and used it to wipe the sides of his mouth and with his teeth, he pulled the pin out of the grenade that was hiding within the bundled fabric. He smirked at the frightened girl before him and set the grenade down on the table for everyone to see. Izzy tried to scoot away but the chair slid away from her and she was left standing. The men behind her finally saw the handcuffs around her wrists and the chain attached to them that kept her from retreating.
"I'm ready to meet my maker, are you?" Dom moved closer to them and his eyes stayed on the british man. Out of his peripheral, he could see the girl beside him frantically looking at him.
"What were you expecting Toretto? To catch me off guard? Standing here waving a white flag?" Deckard smirked. "You ever heard the saying the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Izzy tensed up and immediately picked up on his hidden meaning. It was either Mose or Jakob that he had coming as his backup. She really didn't know which one would be worse.
"I don't have friends," Dom spoke with his usual confidence, not phased by the man's threatening glare. "I got family."
"Well I got a lot of friends," Deckard promised. His eyes drifted to the wide-eyed girl who hadn't stopped tugging on the chain as her eyes stayed trained on the grenade. "And your family." Confusion clouded Dom's eyes before he mentally pushed it aside and glared at Deckard. "You mess with my family, I mess with yours."
Then the room went black.
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