Owen's POV

I looked at Deck when he asked me to protect Isa and the baby. I nodded and pulled him into a hug. Our family was never big on hugs, but right then, it felt right. I could see it so clearly—how much Isabella had changed my brother. Deck had shut himself off from love for so long, built walls around himself, but now? Now he was completely in love. And it made me happy.

I walked over to where Hattie was standing.
"Hats," I said, "I'm glad I get to see you again. I know you're not exactly thrilled with the way the family turned out, but... You should know Mum was always proud of you. She kept every bit of news about you and pinned it to her wall."

I paused, running a hand over the back of my neck.
"I've done some bad things. I'm not gonna lie about that. But I'm still the same Owen who used to steal Dad's money to buy you candy."

Hattie stood there for a moment, then said softly, "I was wrong, Owen. Wrong about Deck, wrong about you and Mum. I followed what happened... I know what you did. But no matter what, I always thought about you. About our family." She glanced away. "I think I was jealous of Isabella. She loves Deck for who he is. I judged her too quickly, without giving her a chance."

I took a step closer to her. "Yeah, that wasn't your best moment," I said honestly. "Listen, Hat—Eteon came after Isabella. And she gave them the same answer  Deck gave them. She got shot. Badly. I haven't seen Deck that protective since we were kids. You should know, Isa sided with me and Deck after her brother threw me out of a plane. I've made my peace with the Toretto family. I might not like them, but I respect them. Because of their love for each other? It's not so different from ours."

Hattie wrapped her arms around me and whispered, "I love you, Owen."
"I love you, too," I said, hugging her back.

When we pulled apart, I grinned. "Stay alive, okay? I need to be the fun uncle."

Hats smiled. "Will do. But I'm the fun aunt. You'll be the one teaching the kid to shoot."

"You are not teaching my child to shoot," came Deck's voice behind us.

I turned to see him walking over.

"I'm going to get ready," I told them, starting to walk away. But before I left, I turned back to Hats with a smirk.
"Yes, I am."

She laughed, and I saw her smile as she turned to Deck.

I always knew Hattie and Deck were closer than me and Hattie. Still, I love my sister. I understood why she disowned us—because of the work we did. I just hoped it wasn't too late to be a family again.

Our childhood wasn't easy. We had a terrible father who used a belt on me and Deck more times than I could count. Not Hattie, though. Mum eventually kicked the bastard out—and not long after, he got himself killed. None of us cried over it.

And honestly? I don't think any of us ever missed him. He deserved the grave he got.

I got ready for battle and climbed up to a tower where I had a good vantage point. From there, I watched as Brixton and his men arrived. I saw Hobbs and his brother fighting off the Eteon soldiers, while Deckard created a ring of fire around Brixton and his men. I took out anyone who got too close to the main house. I caught glimpses of Deckard and Hattie fighting side by side, and Hobbs and his brothers working together, but I couldn't afford to focus on them for too long. 

I shot down every bastard that came too close, one after the other. They kept coming, wave after wave, and I didn't stop until I ran out of arrows. Typical. No time to swear about it. I climbed down, swiped a gun off a dead Eteon grunt—gloves still on—and kept firing.

I held the line like I said I would. Promised Deckard I'd cover the main house. And as much as I hate how bossy he gets—always barking orders like he's bloody MI6—I kept my word.

I saw a building come crashing down in the distance. My stomach twisted. I knew my brother and Hattie were in there. But I didn't move. Couldn't. Not while the fight was still at my feet.

Deck's a pain, always has been. Annoying, controlling, drives me mad—but I love the idiot. Not that I'd ever say it. His ego's already oversized; no need to fuel it further. And Hattie was my sister, and I love her, and I always protect her, and I knew she could handle herself and Isabella. She's not just my sister-in-law—she's my second sister. You don't let people like that down. Not ever.

So I stayed. Kept shooting. Kept fighting. And if they wanted that house, they'd have to go through me first. 

I spotted Brixton dragging Hattie away, and my gut twisted. I went to move, but before I could take a single bloody step, someone slammed into me from the side and knocked me straight to the ground.

Everything spun.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Deckard get in the car along with Hobbs, driving off to save Hattie and stop Brixton. I smiled and, as the man was punching me, spoke with blood in my teeth, "Your boss is going to die". He laughed, said " he won't die, but your slibing will find you lifeless on the ground. One of Hobbs's brothers yanked the bastard off me. I didn't hesitate—I grabbed my gun, aimed, and fired point-blank into his skull.

"Let's see you come back to life again, mate."

No time to celebrate. The fight kept going.

My mind flipped into survival mode—no pain, no thought, just pure motion. I took hits, hard ones. Knocked down more times than I could count. Probably cracked a rib or two, blood running into my eye, bruises blooming like war paint. But I got back up. Every damn time.

Because no one—and I mean no one—messes with the Shaw family.

I fought until the sky started to shift, until the night bled into dawn. And then, like someone flipped a switch, Eteon's weapons powered down. Gone. Silent.

That's when I knew—we'd done it. Brixton was finished. Dead for good this time. Their whole tech empire only shut off like that if he was offline permanently.

Hobbs's brothers and I got to work fast. Tied up what was left of Eteon's foot soldiers—used reinforced cuffs so strong not even a tank could snap 'em. We made damn sure they weren't going anywhere. Anyone who so much as twitched got a swift reminder of what a pissed-off Shaw can do.

Then, like something out of a dream, the women came out. Isabella. Hobbs's mum. The rest of the family. Bloodied, tired, but alive.

Isabella walked toward me and embraced me in a hug. 

I didn't say a word. Just pulled her into a hug. Gentle, careful—didn't want to hurt the kid. But I held her tight enough so she'd know she was safe.

Her bump looked bigger than before, but I didn't ask. Not the time. Not the place. All that mattered was that she was okay. The baby was okay.

And for once, we'd made it out the other side.

Still breathing. Still standing.

Still Shaw.

Isabella's POV

I sat with Sefina, eyes locked on the horizon, heart pounding in my chest. We all waited—me, Sefina, the rest of the family—watching for any sign of Deckard, Hattie, and Hobbs returning.

And then I saw them.

Relief crashed over me like a wave. As they drew closer, I didn't wait—I ran straight for Deckard. His arms wrapped tightly around me, and his lips came crashing down on mine. I clung to him, but when I pulled back, I saw blood trailing down his temple.

"Deck—" I started, but he cut me off with a faint smirk.

"I'm okay," he said, voice low but steady. "Might be a little injury for a while, but I'm alright."

"You promise?" I asked, searching his eyes.

He nodded. "I promise."

Behind him, Hattie walked up. We didn't need words. We just nodded at each other—an unspoken truce, a shared understanding.

Then Owen showed up, limping but grinning. "Wow, Deck, you look like shit."

Deckard raised an eyebrow. "So do you."

Deck turned to his siblings with that familiar spark in his eyes and said, "Oh, Hattie—we're breaking Mum out of jail. You in?"

Hattie just smirked and nodded. "Always."

"I'm in," Owen added, as casual as ever.

Deckard rolled his eyes, but during the exchange, Hobbs stepped in with a straight face. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

I laughed. "Thanks, Hobbs. And thank you for bringing him back to me." Hobbs nodded and said, "Of course, he is my sidekick, plus you are my favourite out of them other than Hattie." 

Deckard spoke, "You are more my sidekick, and Owen added in "Don't flirt with our sister". 

Deckard pulled Owen into a hug, clapping his back, and then Owen moved on to hug Hattie. Hobbs walked over to his mother, giving her a rare, quiet hug of his own. And then we got to work—cleaning up the mess Eteon left behind, checking weapons, securing tech, rebuilding what we could of the farm.

Later, as the sun dipped lower, Deckard leaned over to me and said, "We should probably head home."

Sefina stepped in. "You can stay the night and catch a flight tomorrow. There are more flights than—and besides, there's a storm coming."

I nodded and went inside to finish what I had started. I was at the computer, working fast. Clearing our names. I had already wiped our data from Eteon's systems, but this was bigger.

I tapped into MI6, the FBI, and Interpol. Sent them everything—proof of what we'd done, the files they needed, even the evidence Eteon had tried to bury.

Not long after, the news played on the screen.

"MI6 and the FBI officially clear Luke Hobbs, Deckard Shaw, and Hattie Shaw of all charges."

Owen blinked and turned to me. "How the hell did you pull that off?"

I looked up at him, then around at the others. "I hacked MI6, the FBI, and every news station pushing Eteon's lies. Cleared everything. Deleted their smear campaigns. Now all of us can go home."

Deckard walked over to me and kissed me, long, hard, full of passion. The baby kicked at that exact moment, and he laughed quietly against my lips. He rested a hand on my stomach.

"We'll stay," he told Sefina with a smile. "Especially with that storm".

The rest of the day passed in a blur of work. All of us pitched in, collecting every last piece of Eteon tech. We boxed it, tagged it, and shipped it off to MI6 and the FBI. No loose ends.

Later, Deckard called out from the back of the house, "Hey, darling—come here!"

I wandered out, wiping my hands, and froze.

There it was.

The bike. My bike. The one I'd fallen in love with during all of this madness.

Deckard was grinning like a smug devil. "We found it. Jonah used his skills to strip out the Eteon tech—every dangerous piece—and rebuilt it from the ground up. It's yours now."

I walked over slowly, eyes wide, then smiled as I ran a hand over the seat.

"Thank you," I said softly, looking up at him. "My sexy husband."

He smirked. "Anytime, Mrs. Shaw."

Deckard and I managed to go to the beach and just swim and make out the whole time, and one thing nobody knows about Deck is really good and taking pictures, and so we got a lot and walked back arm in arm. Had dinner and went to sleep. 

The Next Morning

We thanked Sefina for everything—her help, her home, her strength—and then we loaded up the car and headed to the airport. The flight back to London was quiet, the kind of quiet that follows chaos. Peaceful... but temporary. We knew what came next.

When we got home, Owen, Hattie, and Deckard all came inside like they owned the place, which, to be fair, Deck kind of does. We all went our separate ways for a while to shower off the dirt, sweat, and blood. I slipped into clean clothes—finally feeling human again—and made my way into the kitchen.

While the others geared up for the job ahead, I got to work on the most important part of our little prison visit: the cake.

A soft, airy sponge. Vanilla, just like Magdalene liked. Sweet, simple... and with a nail file tucked neatly inside. I wrapped it in cling film, slid it between the layers, and frosted over it like a proper housewife.

Only in this family, a cake wasn't just dessert—it was a jailbreak tool.

Once it was boxed and ready, we drove out to the prison like nothing was out of the ordinary. Signed in, smiled politely. Just a friendly family visit—with a secret weapon wrapped in buttercream.

Magdalene walked into the visitation room a minute later, her expression softening when she saw all of us together. For once, we weren't at each other's throats. We were a unit.

She picked up the phone and looked right at Hattie. "I'm so happy you're back, love."

Deckard slid the cake across the counter. "Brought that cake you wanted. I wouldn't eat it if I were you."

Magdalene's smirk returned full force. "Let's get out of here, then."

We all chuckled. No one in this room had any intention of following the rules.

Deck turned to his mum. "Let Isa go out first. Less suspicious."

Magdalene gave me a quick nod. "Off you go, sweetheart."

I stood up, adjusted my coat, and walked out with steady steps. No nerves, no rush. Just another woman visiting her mother-in-law in prison.

As I passed through the exit, I heard Hattie start chatting up a guard behind me. "How long have you been working here?" she asked, casually.

The perfect distraction.

One by one, the rest of the crew followed. No alarms. No raised voices. No panic.

We just walked out.

Like we always do.

Deckard slid into the driver's seat, Owen jumped in like it was a race, and Hattie settled beside me. Magdalene stepped in last, already adjusting her sunglasses like she was heading to brunch.

And just like that, we were gone.

Because when the Shaws show up?

We don't ask for permission.

We take the whole damn room.

Later That Night – Shaw Family Living Room

For the first time in what felt like forever, things were calm.

No explosions. No gunfire. No enemies tracking us. Just the five of us—Deckard, Hattie, Owen, Magdalene, and me—spread out across the living room with full stomachs and a little wine.

Deckard sat beside me on the couch, one arm lazily draped over my shoulders, the other holding a glass of whisky he barely sipped. I leaned into him, warm and finally at peace. The baby kicked every so often, reminding me this was our new normal. The quiet after the storm.

Magdalene had claimed the armchair like royalty, her legs tucked beneath her, sipping tea like she hadn't just broken out of prison this morning.

"I've missed this," she said, glancing around at all of us. "My children in one room, not trying to kill each other or blow something up."

Owen snorted from the floor, where he was stretched out with a beer in hand. "Give it twenty-four hours."

Hattie rolled her eyes. "More like twelve."

Deckard smirked. "Please. I give it 'til morning."

I grinned. "I'll put money on Owen being the first to start something."

"Oi!" Owen sat up with mock offence. "Why's it always me?"

Hattie didn't even blink. "Because it is always you."

"You threw a grenade at me once!"

"It was training!"

"It was a live grenade!"

I chuckled as their voices climbed. Deckard didn't even look fazed. "There it is," he murmured in my ear.

Magdalene sighed happily. "Music to my ears."

We eventually ended up watching some old movie on the telly—something we half paid attention to while the conversations wandered in every direction. Hattie told us about her last solo mission. Owen kept exaggerating the time he "saved Deckard's ass," which Deckard countered with dry sarcasm. Magdalene offered cutting commentary like she was narrating a documentary.

And me? I just sat there, soaking it in.

The chaos, the comfort, the love buried under all the bickering and bad decisions.

This was family.

At some point, I must've drifted off because I woke up with a blanket over me, my head on Deckard's chest, his fingers gently brushing through my hair.

The lights were low. The others had gone quiet. Hattie had taken over the armchair, fast asleep with a book on her chest. Owen was passed out halfway on the floor, halfway on the ottoman. Magdalene was curled on the other couch, her tea long gone cold beside her.

Deckard looked down at me with that rare softness he never showed anyone but me.

"You good, love?" he whispered.

I nodded sleepily. "Yeah. I am."

"Good," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Because this... this is the part we fight for."

Later That Night – Just the Two of Us

The house had gone still.

Everyone else had drifted off to sleep. Hattie shared one of the guest rooms with Magdalene, and Owen snored in the other room. The soft sound of rain tapped against the windows, and the flicker of the fireplace was the only light left in the room.

Deckard and I moved quietly into the kitchen, careful not to wake anyone. He poured two cups of tea and a smoothie because I was craving it and handed me mine without a word. We leaned against the counter, shoulder to shoulder, the silence between us easy.

After a moment, he spoke.

"You know," he said, voice low, "I didn't think I'd make it this far."

I looked up at him. "You mean the fight?"

He shook his head. "No, love. Life. This. You. The kid. Family in one piece."

His words settled deep. I'd seen him bruised, broken, bloodied—but never like this. Vulnerable. Open.

I reached for his hand. "You're not the only one who thought that."

He let out a soft breath, like the weight on his chest had loosened just a little. "I've lived most of my life with a gun in one hand and regret in the other. Thought that was it for me. But then you showed up—brilliant, stubborn, dangerous—and suddenly I'm thinking about nurseries and making sure we've got milk in the fridge."

I laughed softly, resting my head against his shoulder.

Deckard turned slightly so we were facing each other fully. His hand came to rest over my stomach, gentle, steady.

"I want this life with you," he said. "Not just the missions and the madness—we'll always have that. But the quiet stuff too. Breakfasts that aren't interrupted by explosions. School runs. You're yelling at me to stop parking like a lunatic. Family dinners where Owen doesn't set something on fire."

I smiled, tears stinging my eyes.

"I want a home. Not just somewhere to sleep, but a home. For you. For the baby. For us."

I swallowed hard. "You think we can have that? After everything?"

He nodded, without hesitation. "We've survived too much not to deserve peace. And I swear to you, Isa... I'm going to build that life for us. I may not be perfect, but I'll protect it with everything I've got."

I leaned in and kissed him—slow, deep, full of everything we never said out loud.

When we pulled apart, I whispered, "Then I'll build it with you."

Deckard wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. The fire crackled quietly in the next room, the rain still dancing against the windows.

And for the first time in a long time... I believed him.

We weren't just surviving anymore.

We were starting something real.

And soon we will be. 

Autour note - Ready for the Shaw babies to arrive! 👶🔥

What are your thoughts on Isabella being in Fast 9?

Fun fact: Deckard's love of taking photos? That actually comes from Jason Statham himself. If you follow him on social media, you'll see—he takes a lot of pictures. Looks like some habits made it from real life into the character. 📸