Hearing the sound of an engine fading into the distance, Hunter, who had been feigning sleep, finally opened his eyes.
"Gone already?"
"And without even saying goodbye."
He got up and walked to the window, watching his Ford Mustang disappear down the road.
Hunter knew that Stella—who had been incredibly proactive and ultimately joined him in the "great harmony of life" last night—had driven off.
She probably woke up, couldn't handle the reality of how forward and wild she had been, and decided to flee.
"Like you can run from this."
Hunter looked down at the scratch marks left by long fingernails on his chest.
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile.
He had racked his brains, but never expected the outcome of last night.
After returning with the news of Steve's demise, Hunter had showered and prepared to sleep.
But Stella, who had finished washing up half an hour earlier, had knocked on his bedroom door late at night.
Hunter knew this farm was her inheritance from John Bridger, her second home.
But when Stella stood there in a sheer lace nightgown, asking to come in and "sit for a while"...
Her silhouette was backlit by the hallway light, the thin fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin. The lace teased glimpses of her sun-kissed body beneath, her full breasts rising and falling with each nervous breath. Her eyes, usually sharp and guarded, now held a mix of vulnerability and desire that made Hunter's pulse quicken.
He stepped aside, letting her in, the door clicking shut behind her. The air in the room thickened instantly, charged with unspoken tension. Stella moved closer, her perfume—a subtle blend of vanilla and spice—wrapping around him like an invitation.
"I... I don't want to leave things like this," she whispered, her voice husky, her hand reaching out to trace the line of his jaw. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt straight through him.
Hunter caught her hand, pulling her gently but firmly against him. Their bodies pressed together, her softness molding to his hard frame. He could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the rapid beat of her heart mirroring his own. "Then don't," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, eliciting a soft gasp from her.
Their eyes locked, the chemistry igniting like a spark to dry tinder. Stella rose on her toes, closing the distance, her lips crashing into his with a hunger that surprised them both. The kiss was fierce, tongues dancing in a rhythm of pent-up longing, her hands roaming over his back, nails digging in just enough to sting pleasurably.
Hunter's hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips and lifting her effortlessly onto the bed. The nightgown rode up, exposing more of her toned thighs, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him down with her. He trailed kisses along her neck, savoring the salt of her skin, the way she arched beneath him, whispering his name like a plea.
Clothes were shed in a frenzy—his shirt tossed aside, her nightgown slipping off her shoulders to pool at her waist. Her body was a masterpiece of curves and strength, her breasts heaving as he explored them with his mouth, teasing her nipples until she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair. The sensation of her writhing against him, the intensity of her responses, drove him wild.
She flipped him over with surprising force, straddling him, her eyes dark with passion. "You've protected me," she breathed, grinding against him slowly, teasingly, building the fire between them. "Now let me show you my gratitude."
The night blurred into a whirlwind of sensations—her lips on his chest, his hands gripping her thighs as she rode him, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Sweat slicked their skin, breaths mingling in gasps and groans, the bed creaking under the force of their connection. Every thrust, every touch, was fueled by raw chemistry, the intensity peaking in waves until they both shattered, collapsing in a tangle of limbs, hearts pounding as one.
It was a night of passion and intensity, leaving them both spent and satisfied, the air heavy with the scent of their shared release.
Recalling the action that lasted well into the early morning, Hunter marveled at how easy it had been.
He thought seducing the beautiful safecracker would be difficult.
Turns out, the difficulty level was way lower than expected.
He had spent far less effort on her than he had on Mia.
This confirmed Stella's deep love for her father.
"So, killing Steve and helping her get revenge..."
"Is really the key to unlocking this blonde beauty's heart."
Hunter thought back to the plot of The Italian Job. In the original timeline, Charlie was the one who dragged John out of retirement, leading to his death.
Stella clearly resented Charlie at the start.
But in the end, after Charlie helped her avenge her father and sent Steve to his doom at the hands of the Ukrainian mob...
Even without witnessing Steve's death personally, Stella ended up with Charlie.
This woman clearly placed a high value on vengeance.
"But taking my Mustang..."
"What does that mean?"
"Is she forcing me to come pick it up later?"
Hunter couldn't figure out exactly what was going through her mind. But it didn't disrupt his plans.
He wouldn't be seeing Stella for a few days anyway.
He needed to move Dom's shipment.
If he delayed any longer, he worried Dom's crew would be in serious trouble.
He showered, changed into clean clothes, and enjoyed a hearty breakfast alone at the farm.
Then, he locked up, pulled his frequently repainted vintage motorcycle from his Inventory, and rode away.
Two hours later, Hunter arrived at the Port of Los Angeles.
Following Dom's instructions, he searched the container yard until he found the specific unit hiding millions of dollars in stolen electronics.
After checking for surveillance and witnesses, Hunter approached the container.
He produced his lockpicks. A few moments of manipulation later, the heavy lock clicked open.
Hunter slipped inside and checked the contents.
He opened a few boxes, confirming they contained high-end consumer electronics—the latest models on the market.
This was definitely Dom's haul.
Hunter relocked the container and then, with a thought, stored the entire massive steel box into his Personal Inventory.
During his ten days at the farm, Hunter had spent most of his time leveling [Lockpicking].
But he had used other skills too.
Thanks to the passive proficiency gains, several skills had leveled up, expanding his inventory capacity significantly.
With the Mustang gone (courtesy of Stella), he had more than enough room to store the shipping container.
With the cargo secured, Hunter left the port quickly.
He drove around the city for a while to burn any tails, then headed to LAX.
He bought a ticket to Boston.
Dom's delivery point was in Boston.
diverse hours later, Hunter passed through security and boarded the plane without incident.
Only when the plane was about to take off, and he was sure he wasn't being followed, did Hunter pull out his phone.
He sent an email to the secure address Dom had given him.
"En route to destination. Everything is secure."
"Will contact upon delivery and signature."
After confirming the email was sent, Hunter stowed the phone in his Inventory and closed his eyes to rest.
Meanwhile, in a house in Los Angeles.
Dom sat expressionless in front of the TV, flipping through channels with one hand.
Anyone could see his mind wasn't on the screen.
It made sense. Dom and his crew had recently been arrested by the LAPD and FBI.
Although they were quickly released on bail, Dom soon discovered his house was bugged.
He found multiple listening devices. He suspected there were hidden cameras too.
Moreover, the surveillance around him had tightened.
At first, it was subtle.
But in the last four or five days, the eyes on the Toretto house and Mia's cafe had multiplied.
Even Old Parker's garage had been raided by the FBI. Vince's car, along with others stored there, had been impounded under the pretext of "illegal modifications."
Dom wasn't sure if the FBI had new evidence.
But he was certain of one thing: their time was running out.
"Did one of the boys slip up?"
Dom didn't want to believe anyone in his family would rat him out. But the pressure was mounting.
He knew he had to run.
But over the years, Dom had spent most of his earnings on cars and living the high life.
He had some savings, but not much—maybe a few hundred thousand dollars.
Normally, that would be plenty.
But trying to flee the country with the FBI breathing down his neck?
Fake passports and clean travel arrangements for the whole crew wouldn't raise suspicion.
"Why don't we just eat out?" Letty played along.
"Cars are impounded. Can't race. Don't feel like moving."
"Fine. Let me change."
While changing, Letty retrieved the hidden bank card Dom used for laundering money.
She tucked it away in a secure spot and then left the house with Mia, acting casual.
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