A/N: This story is loosely based on The Fate of the Furious, a rewrite. This is just to see if you're interested in reading more.

"You're gonna betray your brothers, abandon your code and shatter your family." The blonde stranger sounded as though he had already agreed to work for her; like no matter what he said or did next, she would get exactly what she wanted. A dark aura burned around her. Her eyes were hooks that stuck into him, pulling him into that darkness, so Dom made sure to keep his distance. "See, your team is about to go up against the only thing they can't handle."

"What's that?" he asked, curious.


She handed Dom her phone and he took it without asking further questions. He didn't know what to expect. All he knew was that woman seemed to have no doubts at all that he would do everything she asked of him, so whatever she had on that phone, had to be very convincing. It made him feel uneasy, but he tried not letting it show. Pressing Play, Dom fixed his eyes on the screen. There was no sound, but the video clearly showed a boy, maybe about ten or eleven years old. He was locked up in a room, trapped behind a shiny glass window at one side and a confining steel wall at the other. The boy sat on his bed, and as the camera zoomed in, Dom saw that his eyes were puffy, like he had been crying. It broke his heart.

He glanced at the woman with dreads, his look demanding answers. Dom noticed a kind of evil grin on her face that made it even harder for him to understand what this fuss was all about. Had he somehow pissed off some girl he didn't even know? Because she did give him the impression that this was personal, and he had no idea who she was. And what kind of leverage was this boy supposed to be? That woman wanted him to do something for her, something bad obviously, but he couldn't figure out how this kid fit in. Was she trying to use that boy to blackmail him, a boy he didn't know a thing about? What made her think that would work?

"That's your son, Dom," she said, almost emotionless.

"My son? I don't have a—"

"You sure about that?" She raised an eyebrow, continuing only a few seconds later. "Poor little guy," She sounded cold and wicked like the evil queen in Snow White, "didn't even know he was adopted." Her laugh cut through his meandering thoughts like a scalpel through flesh.

'Didn't even know he was adopted,' her words lingered—and then it hit him. His breath got caught in his throat. He tried to keep a straight face, but the more time he allowed for her words to bore their way into his head, his heart, the more he seemed to lose his composure. He stared down at the phone in shock. It was him. The boy they had given life to, so many years ago. The boy they had never ever talked about again but whom they had thought of every day of their lives. Their kid.

He was his son. His and Letty's.