I felt someone lift me and carry me into a car. Voices drifted in and out, muffled and distant. My body was too heavy to move.

Then—darkness.

I woke to the smell of coffee. My head throbbed slightly, but I felt warm, wrapped in unfamiliar clothes. As I blinked the sleep away, a voice reached me.

"Good, you're up."

I turned my head and saw him—the man who had saved me. He leaned casually against the doorway, watching me with a smirk.

"Yeah," I muttered, shifting to sit up.

He stepped closer. "How's your head?"

"It's fine. By the way, thanks for saving me. And... who exactly are you?"

The man chuckled, his smirk turning into a grin. "You're welcome. Name's Deckard Shaw. The other guy with me—that was my brother, Owen."

I nodded, taking in the name. "Well, nice to meet you, Deckard. I'm Isabella Toretto."

Deckard extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Isabella."

I shook it. His grip was firm, warm. For some reason, I didn't want to let go.

We talked for hours. About everything and nothing. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't bored or itching to leave. It felt... natural. Comfortable. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Eventually, Deckard leaned back and asked, "Hungry?"

My stomach answered for me with a quiet growl. "Yeah, I could eat."

He smirked. "Good. I'll cook."

Deckard disappeared into the kitchen, and I took the chance to change. I found a white shirt, black pants, a leather jacket, and some sneakers. I had no idea why Deckard had women's clothes lying around, but I wasn't about to ask.

When I walked back out, he was at the stove, effortlessly moving between pans. The smell of something incredible filled the air.

"Didn't take you for a chef," I teased, leaning against the counter.

He glanced at me, his smirk returning. "I have many talents, love."

I wasn't going to argue with that. He was smart, sharp, and—damn it—way too attractive.

Before I could say anything else, the front door opened.

A man stepped inside, and I knew instantly who he was.

"Owen Shaw," he introduced himself with a nod. "Deckard's younger brother."

I smiled. "Nice to meet you, Owen."

"Likewise." He glanced at Deckard. "Bro, I've got a job to handle. See you later. Nice meeting you, Isabella."

"Be safe," Deckard said.

I watched as Owen left, hearing the car door shut before he drove off. Now it was just Deckard and me again.

Suddenly, unease settled in my chest. I had been so caught up in the moment, I hadn't stopped to think.

Who exactly was Deckard Shaw?

And more importantly—who the hell was trying to kill me?

Deckard must have noticed my change in expression because he set his drink down and leaned against the counter.

"I can see you have questions. Go ahead."

I met his gaze. "Alright. Who are you? And who was trying to kill me and steal my code?"

Deckard smirked, arms crossing over his chest. "First off, like I said, my name is Deckard Shaw. The guy earlier was my younger brother, Owen. Second, the men who attacked you were Cipher's henchmen—Connor and Blake Rhodes. Cipher is a cyber-terrorist. If she sent them after you, she wants something bad."

My stomach twisted. I looked down, my hands clenching into fists. "Oh my God..."

Memories flooded back—the programs I had built, the ones I had spent years perfecting. "I make codes that can blackout a base—or worse, the entire world. But I stored those on this."

I pulled out the flash drive.

Then it hit me.

I gasped. "There was one more on my work laptop. A code that can make a plane invisible. That must be what they were after!"

Deckard's smirk disappeared. His expression turned serious. "Then we need to get it back. Or destroy it."

I met his eyes. "Destroy it. That way, no one can use it."

Deckard gave a slow nod. "Isa, you're a smart woman. Not many people would make that call. I'll help you."

Something about the way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine.

He stood up straighter. "First, we go to my mum for help. Is there anything you need to bring with you?"

I nodded. "Let's go."