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It took Isabella little more than a minute to hack into the measly system that was supposed to protect the Shaw hideout. Theoretically, it was owned by Deckard, but all four of the clan deemed it theirs to use at their will, often without him knowing. 


She couldn't help but feel ashamed that the entry was so easy, because as Isabella wandered through the vast space whilst gliding her hand across the spotless cars, she realised how quickly they could be stolen. The whole collection was Deckard's pride and joy, not to mention they were most likely worth millions if their values were combined. 


Nonetheless, Isabella decided not to dwell on the cars, and instead began her search for some sort of first aid kit. It used to be kept behind the miniature bar that they had set up years ago, but since people were injured on a regular basis, the chances of it still being in its rightful place were very slim. 


As her bruised fingers brushed across the gleaming bar, Isabella grabbed the glass of whiskey, taking a large gulp as she slumped back onto the black, leather sofa that she couldn't have been more grateful for in that moment. The golden liquid burned her tender throat slightly, but as it settled in her stomach, an overwhelming feeling of warmth swamped her sore body. 


Leaning her head back against the wall was surprisingly soothing; the coolness of the brick softened the pounding headache that echoed around her mind. 


They were often the after effects of using grenades, especially at such short range. It was extremely dangerous to set one off in her enclosed kitchen, but it was a life or death situation and couldn't have been avoided. 


After hearing a few soft clicking sounds from down the length of the corridor, Isabella sat up anxiously. She hoped it would be Owen who opened the door, but one could never be too careful. 


Clutching the gun that had saved her life less than an hour before, the injured woman placed herself behind one of the thick columns, out of view from the entrance. It wasn't much of a hiding spot but it was the best she could do. 


Gradually, the door creaked open, revealing a tall man dressed head to toe in black; that was Owen for sure. "Forty three seconds," He announced, checking his expensive watch that sat comfortably on his tanned arm. "New record." Owen smirked to himself, looking up curiously when he heard a soft tapping of feet against the floor. 


"That's because I disabled the other seven defences already." Isabella smiled as she strolled out from behind the post. His brown eyes filled with concern as he took in the state of the woman, "I just left you one for fun." She teased, wincing slightly as her arm rubbed against the bar. 


"Who do I need to kill?" Owen asked, dropping his thick, black duffle bag onto the floor, making his way over to Isabella who rolled her eyes at his dramatics, "Already taken care of." She reassured, patting his arm before attempting to return to the sofa. 


Instead, Owen kept held of her hand, pulling her face towards his, tenderly tracing the purple bruises that were littered across her cheek bone, "Any bullet wounds?"


"Just a scratch." Isabella gestured to her upper arm, grimacing before Owen could even touch the material around it. He sent her a sorrowful glance, thoroughly understanding the pain she was feeling. Owen couldn't count the amount of times he'd been shot at. 


"Sit there," Owen ordered softly, leading her back to the sofa once more, "That needs sorting, and then you tell me everything." 


As the dark haired man went about his business on the search for the first aid kit, which was hidden in some sort of grate that Isabella had never noticed before, she couldn't help but close her eyes in exhaustion. She knew from the moment she woke up that morning that something unusual was going to occur, but she never imagined a full blown attack. 


"Hey, did you see the news?" Isabella questioned anxiously, watching Owen squirt some sort of antibacterial spray onto a bandage. He turned around to face her slowly, a solemn look etched on his face as he concentrated, "Yes, and he's a complete idiot. Getting back in with that Hobbs again, he should have known it wouldn't end well." 


As Owen grumbled moodily, Isabella sighed, crossing her aching legs underneath her a little too speedily, causing her to let out a quiet squeak of pain, which of course the Shaw brother heard. Nothing went unnoticed when the Shaw family was around. 


"Stop moving around Izzy." He glanced at Isabella as she finally settled down, growing more nervous by the second as Owen made his way over with the emergency supplies. She turned the other way as he began to fiddle with the makeshift bandage she had tied in a rush to escape her shattered house. 


"Maybe it wasn't his fault. What if he needs help?" Isabella attempted to distract herself by talking about the other serious situation at hand. As a sharp sting rushed down her arm, Isabella did everything in her power to remain still, sending Owen an agitated glance for not warning her that he was about to disinfect her arm. 


"Well he isn't getting any from me, or you in this state." Owen complained, carefully wiping the hardening blood from the wound, "He's got himself into this mess..."


"He's your brother." Isabella responded forcefully, growing more and more annoyed at the way Owen was badmouthing Deckard. He wouldn't dare do it to his face, he'd be guaranteed a punch to the nose. "Think of all the times he's saved your sorry ass." 


Owen raised an eyebrow, surprised at her defensive nature, holding up the sterilised needle and thread in one finger, "Do you want me to help you or not?" 


Isabella deflated defeatedly, wincing as she felt the cold needle against her arm. It hurt for a while, but then the pain began to drift away. She could feel herself becoming drowsy, her eyelids feeling heavier than they did a few minutes ago. All Isabella wanted was to drop off into a deep, dark slumber...


"Isabella!" Owen shook her pale shoulders apprehensively, fearing that if the girl fell out of consciousness, she mightn't wake up for a long time. Isabella mumbled tiredly, annoyed at the disruption. She'd lost all effort to argue with him, all she wanted was a nap. 


Nonetheless, when the pair heard an almost inaudible rattling from outside the locked door, they shot up in an instant. 


"Hide." Owen demanded, enclosing a small handgun into Isabella's grip as she nodded like a deer in the headlights. Although she had dealt with the threat from the early morning attack exceptionally well, the reality of it was now beginning to dawn on Isabella, as well as an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. 


In spite of her aching bones, Isabella sprinted behind one of the furthest pillars, pulling herself up of the ground and out of view. She was aware of these little crevices as herself and Hattie always used to hide in them when they were little kids. They were far from innocent back then, but they were still children, and all children liked to play games. 


As she waited with her ears on high alert, Isabella checked her arm, which Owen had managed to stitch up perfectly. At least he'd learned something from his mother, even if it wasn't not jumping off a plane without a parachute on or not manipulating people with memory loss. She'd heard all about Owen's less than honourable adventures from Deckard, and it was safe to say Isabella wasn't impressed at his antics. 


Secretively, Isabella silently prayed that Owen had hidden himself too, but his pride probably forced him to stand in plain sight and hold up a gun like he was invincible. The Shaw brothers believed themselves to be immortal, and with some of the shit they'd put themselves through, Isabella wouldn't be surprised if they were. Either that, or they were extremely, ridiculously lucky. 


Instinctively, Isabella clenched her eyes shut as she heard the steel door open with a loud creaking sound, focussing all her senses on trying to detect any particular noise that could give away the intruder. "Assess, think, attack." Isabella chanted repetitively in her head, hearing another one of Magdalene's famous lines sink in to her thoughts. 


She could hardly assess from her position, and attacking in Isabella's state would be futile. All that left was thinking. "Think, think, think." She muttered calmly, yet it seemed she panicked too soon.


"I'm getting a drink." A familiar feminine voice spoke out, clearly in a frustrated tone and Isabella couldn't help but beam in delight. Carefully, she swung herself down from her hiding place, dropping the weapon to her side as she stepped out into view. Who needs to assess a situation when you can walk blindly into it?


"Hattie?" Isabella announced excitedly, causing three paranoid figures to twist round instantly, pointing guns at her left, right and centre with shock in their eyes. As soon as the Shaw sister acknowledged the presence of her best friend, she gasped, hardly believing she was there at all. 


"Bella!" Hattie laughed in relief, strolling over to her quickly as they embraced each other in a tight hug, "I'm so glad you're okay." Isabella spluttered out, examining her friend to see only a few cuts and bruises. 


"What the hell happened to you?" Hattie's forehead scrunched up in confusion, staring at the bandage that hinted a crimson red colour if you looked close enough, not to mention all of the lilac bruises that painted Isabella's usually flawless skin. 


A loud cough came from behind the duo and Isabella twisted her head to see the man of the hour, Deckard Shaw. As a large smile began to form on his face, Isabella couldn't help but giggle, still shaking her head as she wandered towards him. 


"You are in some deep shit." Isabella warned, pointing her finger sternly at Dec, who just ignored the comment and wrapped his arms around her tightly, "Nice to see you too, Iz." 


As the pair hugged for a few seconds, Isabella took in the distinctive scent that she grew up with, the one that made her feel the most comfortable and safe, before pulling back to fake a glare at him. Whilst she acted away, his piercing blue eyes ran over her body, taking in every single cut and scratch that harmed it. 


Deckard stared sadly at her from under his eyebrows, the look soon evolving to one of fury as he lifted up her chin whilst she attempted to escape his gaze awkwardly, "Who do I need to kill?" 


"It seems I have an echo." Owen called out, carrying some kind of drink that Isabella couldn't remember seeing him pour. Deckard sighed in exasperation, hardly believing that his day could have got any worse. The entrance of his brother almost pushed him over the edge. 


"You've got to be shitting me." The extremely tall man that Isabella knew to be Luke Hobbs from the news exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips like a teenager with an attitude problem. Deckard had told Isabella about him before, and she was astonished that they were even in a two mile radius of each other, never mind in the same room. 


Their history wasn't exactly friendly. 


"Hey sis." Owen smiled, embracing Hattie who seemed to be the only one of the three who was genuinely pleased to see him. They too wrapped their arms around each other, causing Isabella to smile in delight. It had been a long time since the family had been all together, and even longer since they had shown such fondness towards one another. 


"Just what we need right now." Deckard groaned, receiving a silencing nudge from Isabella who wanted the siblings to have at least a few seconds to reunite before all the problems were addressed. Dec quickly shut up, watching the joy on Isabella's face was enough to bring a small smile to his lips, which he hid the second Owen looked at him. 


"Well, how the tables have turned." Owen teased, taking a sip of his whiskey as he stood beside Hattie. He raised the glass to his brother, sending him a smug nod, before offering the same welcome to Hobbs who struggled to contain his keen words. 


"Don't make me hit you." Deckard reminded him warningly, before strolling towards his large desk of computers. He had taught Isabella the basics about hacking and coding, but as she carried on, her expertise far surpassed Deckard's. 


Isabella suddenly felt a wave of excitement rush over her as she followed him, glancing over his shoulder as he typed away rapidly, "What are you trying to do?" She enquired after watching the tense man narrow his eyes with anger at the screen. 


"We need fake identities to get to Russia. If we don't she's going to die." Hobbs interrupted rudely, gesturing to Hattie as Isabella's eyes widened in horror. "You're going to die?" 


Hattie shrugged, about to open her mouth when Deckard stepped in, "No, she's not. And that's why we all need to stay calm and think before we speak." He spat towards Hobbs who rolled his eyes in response, turning his back on the group to perch on a stone table top. Being in the presence of one Shaw brother was enough for him, never mind two and a sister. 


"Well, I for one am a big fan of Russia. What time is the flight?" Owen asked, purposely antagonising as Deckard froze, turning away from his typing. Isabella saw this as an opportunity to break through the code that the Shaw had been struggling on, then she proceeded to create the new back stories for the five of them with a content look on her face. Deckard had already began to form the identity for Hobbs, so she ignored the previous code and continued blindly. 


"No, no that's not happening. You are not coming to Russia." Deckard confirmed, glaring at his younger brother as Hattie perched beside Hobbs with a smirk, "I bet you a tenner he'll tell the burger king story."


Luke turned to her with a sneer of confusion on his face, before he shrugged his wide shoulders and sealed the bet with a shake of their hands. Although he had no clue what the woman was talking about, he didn't have anything better to do. 


"This is just as much my business as it is yours. If Hattie needs help, I'm coming." Owen retaliated, placing his empty glass down on the bar a little too harshly. 


Isabella glanced up at the noise, shaking her head at the pair of bickering brothers, turning back to the screens as though it was nothing. She was used to it growing up, and had witnessed more fights between the pair than she cared to admit.


"Firstly, we don't need your help. Secondly, if you come with us, we are more likely to be recognised, and three, I will one hundred percent punch you in the face before we get within a thousand miles of Moscow." Deckard listed in an irritated tone, as Hobbs shouted, "Let him come then." In response to the threat of violence. 


"Believe it or not brother, it's not your call to make. Besides, you owe me remember. I recall that time I saved you that time when we were nine after stealing from Burger King, you assured that you would return a favour. This is it." Deckard huffed at Owen's plead, as Hattie held out her hand towards Hobbs with a cheeky smile. Every time he wanted anything, he'd pull out that card, even though his favour had most definitely been returned, ten times over. 


Rolling his eyes, Hobbs pulled a ten pound note from his pocket, handing it over as Hattie jumped up, standing beside her two brothers, "Come on boys. A nice family bonding trip for the three of us, and Isabella is coming too. And the big guy over there." She explained, patting both their shoulders tenderly as the brothers glared daggers at one another. 


"Bella, you're up for coming to Russia, right?" Hattie asked, as the blonde finished typing on the screen, grabbing five cards that the printer released slowly. "Of course, it'll be fun." She smiled, passing the cards to Deckard who flicked through them with a impressed look. He stifled a laugh when he got to Hobbs's new identity, receiving a wink from Isabella who tried to not seem suspicious. 


"Fine. But the second you annoy me, you're out." Deckard pointed at Owen who sipped his whiskey carelessly, "We'll explain everything on the way." He began throwing bags of clothes out to everyone, passing a set carefully to Isabella in an effort not to catch the injury on her arm. "And you," He pointed at her directly, "You better tell us what happened too." 


Isabella nodded, sending him a soft smile as Hattie led her away to get changed somewhere more private, "Oh Hobbs." They heard Dec shout, "I apologise in advance if those trousers are a bit loose around the balls." 


The girls sniggered, sharing an amused look, overly grateful to be spending time together again. Even if it was a mission to save the world.

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